She will play my “second surrogate mother…” at the age that she’s at, receiving a BRUNETTE, you see, where’s SHE’s at. “40…” and with EYES, this woman, “YEAH,” the scary age. Totally annoyed. Maybe I can write a movie for Julianne Moore — who comes and gets me. “Psychedelics?” Just her saying that. So… annoyed.
“I’m sorry? Did you say FUTURE POINT? Download the information from a future point?”
Imagine Julianne Moore dealing with these outbursts.
“Jesus, I cannot even WRITE!” Her face, what? “Without CHANNELING…” my face of horror. “Channeling?” She might come to the couch, genuinely interested.
I’m telling you, it makes me want to throw the computer out the window, I didn’t need help…from the future, I can’t stand this sometimes, I mean truly. Like I’m downloading information from the POINT, that I have a job. It ruined my life.
Maybe she suggests seeing a Buddhist? Hilariously. A meditator, to clear my mind? With a hand, “ho,” I say, palm lifted. “No.” I’ll start writing scenes soon. That’s where I feel I can play out these internal dramas I’m having.
I do not KNOW who that was, and my second surrogate mother—COUSIN— putting a PIN in it — wouldn’t KNOW either. If my friends described who I was, she would be confused. If she saw the outfits I was wearing, she would be confused. Nothing but confusion.
My mother was severely mentally ill, you know. I don’t know what to say, about the rest, but my parents were ill, so I didn’t need the cultish LA shit. I could have, at least, but didn’t happen — because I wasn’t in the driver’s seat — simply grabbed hold of the wheel as I was fine, and GONE in the direction I am going in NOW.
Again, the JOB IS: you gotta figure out what WORKS for YOU. Julianne Moore is making a RIGHT — about to attack this guru. We’ll see. I don’t know… “is that him?” We’re in Beverly Hills in a super nice car, to blend in. She’s wearing sunglasses. I have to figure out the build. What happens.
Anyway, that’s one idea I had this morning.
Could be good.
I am a respectful person — Julianne Moore’s character saying okay? I do not want anything from you. I don’t have to be the richest person. I can’t stand agendas. I just felt a bit eaten alive. I don’t want anything from anyone, looking around, and she doesn’t know WHO… Some dramatic scene here. I’ll think. She’d say how much I hurt her. Since this would based on my relationship with MY COUSIN, “JESUS.”
“Sorry,” on that point, Julianne Moore would be able to make us laugh.
It’s more the BLANK stares — the inability to even CAPTURE, “THEY WERE SICK.”
“What does that have to do with you?”
“I was a kid…” at the time. “I have literature…” like I had to come with supporting evidence. She’s not going to read that.
But maybe there’s a good story. I’ll think on it. I’m still learning scripts.
It always makes me feel better thinking in terms of DRAMA.
Julianne Moore looking at this picture of my “adopted family…”
“You got another family?”
“Yes, it happened AGAIN…”
“Unconscious gears…” she would see.
“And now,” wide eyed at her, “um?”
An old fart, cousin, drinking coffee. “Wow.”
“Right?” Jersey. New Jersey. That’s where my family is from. “But I was magical…” and I would say it in a way that would make their heads fly back. Her daughter LAUGHING. I wonder if I like that idea. Anyway, I’ll get there soon. You know, I wasn’t really married to the story, but I thought I could probably distribute it…
I don’t care… taking a deep breath. I wasn’t THAT — PEERING THROUGH THIS — SAD? Confused. I wasn’t that DESPERATE to tell this story, I just thought, wow, people really really responded to it, so it’s gotta hold some larger meaning. People RESPONDED, I mean. The guru pointed at me as if I were in a SCI FI.
I had ONE convo with him. And I do not SEE that I am not COMFORTABLE with him, you see. I do not know what’s going on. YEAH, imagine Julianne Moore? “You’re supposed to listen to that…” confused by my basic problem? And I’m on her page, it’s MY PAGE now. This wasn’t my mother, but someone who considered me “her LIKE kid,” which got weird. “Like,” looking at HER, “WHY ARE YOU BUYING MY DORM ROOM? Think about it.”
Julianne Moore, a mother, woman, person, yes, I’m aware. “WHY ARE YOU buying me PRESENTS and making sure I don’t feel like I’m different from your own daughter?” You feel me????? What’s happening???? That’s what I mean.
I was STUCK.
And then, I became someone… I never thought I’d ever become. Like, my ex, he believes he channels, as well. “I got involved,” gasp, Julianne Moore. “No.” On that one. “Channelers.” Nodding, in New Jersey. “SHUT UP.” She used to do that. “SHUT UP…” she’d say. “Yup.” “Channelers? Really?” So, she would say “shut up,” then, she would mouth it, and then, she’d swing her ponytail as if she were a girl… I studied these people. Their every move. I was like a recorder. She would mouth it, stomp her foot, then say it, then swing her ponytail.
Connecticut, homemaker, that was me. She’s affective because she doesn’t show her feelings, but she can’t help it, through her eyes. She guards those. But they shine from her. She was caring, of course, she was, but THIS got me into trouble. As if, not to get GENDER about it, MEN didn’t typically… picturing her husband, get emotionally involved. They couldn’t, because it would look weird. But, yikes, watching the GAME, a football player getting CRUSHED.
Just a mess. One HE CAN’T TOTALLY comment on. Listening to our conversation. He might crack. “LOOK.” I was LOST in a sea of women… CARING… oh my GOD. The latest mother isn’t like that… but she’s geared, to mother. She has been mothering since seven, so I got caught up in that. Caught up in ANYONE showing ANY consistent, normal care like calling me, and I can’t call her, and it’s like, HM, she was just a woman from your neighborhood…
I couldn’t quite function…
NO, be real. She was a woman who drove you to high school. She knew your parents in church. But that was brief. And, here we go, again. THE DIRECTION WAS — YOUR OWN LIFE. Forget these families. Cousin. Christmas. Phone calls. Sure. Except they never called me. I’d call them from time to time, but it didn’t matter. So months would go by… that ended up being confusing.
It just felt a bit delusional.
But had it been CONSCIOUS, that would have been a different story. If she TOOK my DREAM SERIOUSLY of being an ACTOR, for real, THIS WOMAN. She would have said— GO BE AN ACTOR, do not go to 40k a year school… but the DREAM was NYU. NO, it wasn’t. So, I’m like, uh huh, okay. I’m here now. I do not CARE if I am not the YOUNG INGENUE.
I don’t even know if I WAS that person.
Scripts are scripts, like drama gives a SHIT what I look like, actually. So we’ll see, I’m figuring it out. Just because I might have a home there, like I have somewhere to put it that makes sense. So we’ll see.
It was a young mechanism…like maybe I didn’t have to judge them, only admire them. I loved characters, I did. So maybe there’s something I could do. At least, in a sense, actors are always looking for good scripts, so. It’s very positive, it’s not FAME, as I can get queasy… like entangled, lol, picturing performing the entanglement for Julianne MOORE, going, “YEAH you see?” They thought I was entertaining. “Does,” looking at her, “that make me an ACTOR?” Hm? Looking at HER? If I am an entertaining person?
Looking at that footplay player getting CRUSHED because someone said, “you run good.” I have to laugh.
So we’ll see. It’ll take a minute. I see different people in this role… who cares? That’s not my problem. I’m just looking at good actors these days. Thinking of going in THAT direction. And what the hell do these people care? They know they EXIST and people WRITE scripts for them. This isn’t NEWS. So we’ll see. I keep thinking about it. Always makes me feel better. I just don’t know anything about dramatic structure yet, but I’ll get there — if I do. Anyway, here I am…
I would play this song in Jersey… this was the VIBE apparently I gave off— a sex scandal, FAMILY. Dancing with this Brazilian woman… in the dark… and in a rush, I could do ANYTHING, be a star… I saw my mother everywhere. I WAS SKINNY AND PRETTY. Able to communicate with Tom Cruise. Psychic. RUDY— making the GOAL. YES, Tom Hanks, in other words, eating chocolates.
“You never know what you’re going to get…”
My child psychologist? The one who wanted to take me out of my house? She contacted me like THIRTY YEARS later? “You were always a charming girl…” I have NO IDEA who I became. Truly. She saw nothing wrong with me, you see, like I was fine. Even the idea that I came from a rich family? She would… cock her head at that. “Are you joking?” Looking at my cousins. Right?
And like, luckily, I don’t want to kill myself, like I would never do that. But this relationship with the guru — if I wasn’t as resilient as I am, I could imagine how he might tip someone else over the EDGE. That relationship HURT ME. He was like a boy truly. I want to — sometimes — throw shit at him because his future shit. He was part of a mechanism of ACTION set to destroy me though he wanted to HELP ME — you see.
He wants me, to this song, SLAP a CHECK on this table as Jim Carrey did. So I will. I’ll start low. “A MILL…for a script.” That’s what I want.