LOOK man, this chick at work, she’s in her twenties, and she has health problems for real. She’s always sick, for real. She has back problems, for real, you can see it. She’s in urgent care right now. Always health problems. This was NOT my issue. Luckily. No one would give a SHIT about her. Concentrate on what you have. Not what you don’t.
So, when it comes to my so-called family, looking at my AUNT wanting to claim me as her daughter, over here, with her daughter in law over here, now with Julianne Moore in the backseat, like wtf is happening? I couldn’t function… and these people think, after TEN YEARS of spending my time with a SICK person, that I was going to be able to react well? Like I was doing something maliciously, or what? I couldn’t FACE IT?
Here’s DRAMA — here’s some BLOND BITCH driving through the BLIZZARD, okay? To pick me up from fucking NYU. My professor handed me a jam jar with wine in it… and I was stuck somewhere around TISCH. The THEATER BUILDING. “Get in the car…” it was THAT desperate. Yes. I couldn’t function. It was malicious. My father STOOD at a wide open door for years and watched his daughter PUT ON HAPPY CRAZY SPECTACLES of JOY to ignore him…
Because, apparently, according to him, “you hated me and I didn’t know why,” emphasis on why. My mother BOUNCED. These people were INCAPABLE. NOW, sure, I am able to — do what I need to, I wouldn’t BE here. THEN, his family shoves papers in my face as to what they did for their own family member’s funeral… THEN, she comes into the church as if “all is forgiven…” and I’m…just trying to TAKE THIS IN. THEN, in the end, what began our rupture, or at least took it to new heights, she gives me the exact amount of money I originally took out that bothered her. I did not understand. THEN, my friend and I are emptying my father’s room, and I get invited for Christmas… and I can’t quite take this in because my father just died.
Picturing Reese Witherspoon PISSED — where is she??????? Through the snow. Only because she’s blond. So again, it’s more fun thinking about what to do with it. Just, my mother and her escort, this despicable man. They left me for dead. Why my mother was so cruel to me, I do not know, but that was a delusion — of an unparalleled degree. Like, they came, randomly, and saw me in a show… I watched her from the wings… just staring off into space with tears rolling down her cheeks. A twisted, delusional entreprise. THEN, suddenly, they want to PAY for my loans. Fuck you. And NOW, THIS WOMAN, my cousin’s wife, resents me, it’s obvious — in the SCENE. She FORGOT. CRAZY people.
And then, DEE DEE DEE, my fucking cousins in ITALY want to play PARENTS. Telling me left and right it’s not true. WHY would I want to SPEAK TO YOU?
I look back, I must admit, totally amazed. I couldn’t HANDLE any of it. THEY, those people, were my family, you see. So now, I’m like, “whoosh,” what a mess that was. So yes, I will play this piano teacher, and I will do it — to the best of my ability. And then I will put it in a REEL, and I hope to be able to DO something… I dream of the day where I’m able to — tell them to fuck off. That’s a final note from ANGELA, a true friend. “You gotta learn how to tell people to VAI FANCULO.”
Imperative.
And I go, was that TRUE DR. J???? Because I don’t GET THE HATRED. My mother was a disgrace.