Wrapped up in a down comforter, needing comfort

Okay, I worked for no reason this evening, and Diane Keaton died, which somehow brought my own mortality to startling light. Not that I’m close to her age, but she’s someone I grew up with, so I took a deep breath, for whatever reason, feeling both futile and free. Who cares what happens? Do whatever you want. You have one life. Forget the past lives, parallel lives, all this crap I absorbed.

Some of us will be remembered. Time has its way. We’re here for a moment. Get out as much as you can out of it. Go after what you truly desire. Never, do as I did, and listen to some stupid professor — anyone — it’s not their life. Their opinion doesn’t matter. In fact, if you take a good look at your close relationships, because holy moly, I did in retrospect, think about it: is this a good idea?

I’m feeling the consequences of my choices this evening. Speaking to no one. Wanting to throw something at this guru I met — this Hollywood guru, a Hollywood screenwriter who acted like a total idiot. That relationship, that whole decade, destroyed me. That guy had some nerve. Getting involved in MY personal life. Did not know the guy,

So I’m applying for jobs, with my hands up, in a state of unknown, because what was the trajectory of my career? I hated that I listened to these men —because WHERE do you want to end up? Fuck some guy who wants to jack off on me. That was a pointless decade. And now, I have no idea what’s next. Where do I want to go? I didn’t really want to be a writer. Not as a job-job. I didn’t have any direction. No, I was just writing a book about my childhood, I wasn’t seeking to get wrapped with some arrogant Hollywood screenwriter…who got unnecessarily involved. It was not necessary. It wasn’t sensitive or thoughtful at all. He’s New Age, out there, and I got wrapped up in someone I wish I never did. It’s like the opposite of missing someone, it’s like being haunted by someone, and wanting nothing more than them leaving your memory. I would, in all seriousness, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind this person—erase him completely. I would erase the plant people too. i would erase the whole decade. I can’t do that, so I have to, I guess, alchemize these experiences, or just move on. Now, I feel confused, because I wasn’t looking to go on and on and on with this person about all this… and I tried to talk to him about writing, because that’s all he seemed to be interested in—just being there for me as a writer, but that’s not what he did. He wanted to act like a psychologist guru?

I don’t want to write about family. That wasn’t my life idea, as he was obsessed with this idea, that your life is your idea. You are what you do, I think. In a sense. I didn’t sign up for all that. I was just a young woman at a cafe, and I think he was attracted to me and didn’t know what to do, unless he roled played my father while confessing his love to me, “YOU HAVE MY LOVE,” like, I didn’t see this person as my father. That man was sick. I was in a different… world than he thought I was? I peer back through this, and go, wow, that guy, for being a psychology expert, which he presented himself as, he was terrible. He presented himself as NATURALLY gifted at psychology, even superior, with otherwordly beliefs he would never have the guts to admit he has, such as being able to receive downloads from other times…? Just stuff I did not need. Like, it’s cool, maybe, for a fiction, or some story — but in real life, what exactly was this other than masterbatory? It was one big WANK off with this guy. And now, sure, maybe see you in a month or something? I don’t need to get that involved. Or two months. He wasn’t that pleasant to talk to. I did not have a fun time. That wasn’t that enriching, as an experience. I look back at who I became in that exchange and I cry and cry and cry — I have only one life, why did I waste my time?

There was nothing wrong with me! So WHAT? Who gives a SHIT that I was “given away by my mother,” when President Barack Obama? Sitting in front of me, just please. “What do you MEAN she LIED about him being a child molester???” Look, Obama isn’t going to disrespect me, he’s going to suggest I find the right person to work out that sentence. I HAD to insert President BARACK OBAMA into these situations to SEE them clearly, truly! And to laugh, because Obama would never suggest that I be here…at STEP ONE. AT STEP ONE, he’s telling me — turn back. I assure you. I could drive President Obama to these locations, and he’s going to use his own spidy sense, yes, and he’s going to say, “I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Forget what happened next. I wish I was never here. I’ll sort out the questions I have, and I know there’s a version of my life right now that can go really well…

Anyway, I SEEK to deliver yell at this man. It bothers me he’s driving around in her white BMW, going to BEL AIR, because he ACTED like a fucking psychologist, and I almost DIED. That relationship almost killed me. I came from a background, asshole. When you have maladapative patterning, I’m telling you, because at least, that’s something I can see. Trauma? What trauma? I can’t relate to that, was I abused? I don’t know. I’ll keep going on THIS journey, because that might be a book, too? Maybe I can sell two books, we’ll see. Buckle up. Because, that was a nightmare. I can’t even deal with myself, back then, and I’m applying for any job right now, anything that gets me out of this restaurant, and I like them, they treat me well, it’s not that, but that’s not where I want to be, and if I were to use that to make extra money (until I figure out a better way) that’s fine, as I’m probably going to have to take a couple of steps. THIS NEW AGE GURU’S VOICE IN MY HEAD PLAGUED ME LIKE WHY ARE YOU DOING THAT? Doing WHAT? Limiting the possibility that PRESIDENT OBAMA might be able to HAND DELIVER ME 500k in cash in a box? You know? Anything can fall from the sky, but what kind of way of LIVE is that? This person was an ogre.

Sipping my coffee. About to move onto my “serious work,” my essays.

Like, President Barack Obama, he’s going to hear me when I say, I was in a sex scandal. Imagine? I texted this so-called friend in the middle of the night, for me, as I went through utter agony, and he texts me? No one calls me? Barack Obama? Michele Obama? I’m pretty sure they’re getting on the phone with me. I’m almost positive they’re not going to TEXT their FRIEND over something like that. And you see, with the plant people, I got this threatening message in the middle of the night after I asked for my money back (thugs) and I can’t explain how I received this, as I was under significant psychological pressure (structural) it drives me nuts with this subject, that people don’t understand what it is, and I lost sight of it myself. I had a life where I had NO idea HOW I got here. NO idea. WHO is this? This is not me. I know people had rude awakenings. I know that. But this albeit empty threat through my website, I received this message physically in my gut. (My physician only cares about location, running tests.) And by the way they reacted, sorry, but the sexual trauma specialist thinks that they sent it to me. “What the HECK is even GOING ON?” I’m speaking to him on Friday by the way. He had to prepare for a case, interesingly enough, though that’s all I know, obviously. And my friend took a turn into the dark — so.

I did not need help. I was thirty. And interestingly enough, none of these men thought about talking to me, I mean, if they were interested in helping me, for real, about money. Like, Obama, even if he is rich, would never look at me and say, you don’t have money, he’d say, probably, you’re not looking at this correctly. No, you don’t have MONEY, in the sense, why are you acting like this? But you have money, that you want to grow. You know? So I gotta start over and impress Obama, essentially, with how I turned my life around. This is the objective —impress people. Like whoa, you really turned that around, and fast! I keep Tina Turner in mind, just because she was in a terrible relationship, one that almost killed her, and she — despite the odds, flourished later in life, her 40s. She had 30 cents. She had advantages over me, such as, she was already Beyonce’s hero, but that doesn’t mean I can’t rise through the ranks. A bat out of hell.

The Joker’s Daughter, coming with a team of seagulls playing like mad off a ferry in Istanbul. Darting in, their little wings, with the Batman soundtrack in their heads. That ride really healed me, my body was such a mess. I couldn’t believe this guy, he was the worst friend I ever came into contact with. I don’t know what to say, it’s going to take me some time to unpack that, because that relationship disturbed me so deeply, and I didn’t understand that, so I kept going back, “you create your own reality,” I was a mess. I cannot even believe he said to me what he did. He should look at himself in the mirror. I was not a video game. I just can’t. I can’t quite deal with these all being men, either, who were deranged geniuses, even, as my mother was, I don’t know what to say about my father… and wow, my friends, they really don’t get it. Do I want to catch up? Hm, let me dial in Michelle Obama: not really. I do not know if I was abused by this person, which is terrible enough. I do not want to play SOCIAL GAMES. Not right now. Not unless I’m dating someone, but that’s separate. OKAY? Sorry. THAT sucked for me. Really. Imagine? “Do you want to catch up?” With some casual high pitched tone? NOPE. I suppose I’m almost at the point where I can, because you have to get over it, regardless, but I’m starting over from scratch, after coming back to the USA, sorry, and getting DIRECTLY sucked back down this WEIRD help track that did not exist in other countries.

But, my cousins in Italy, they show what a headfuck this story was, and all I had to do was say “no, fuck you,” actually. I had to get angry, get normal, in that, people defend themselves, people protect themselves, people aren’t concerned about not hurting someone, I can’t explain this complex. AND? I overreact? So what? I mean, normal shit. This guru was in outer space — shoving THEY FEED YOU down my throat, imagine? THEY FEED YOU THEY FEED YOU THEY FEED YOU. This guy was — a total lunatic. In Bel Air. Glad you, uh, made a couple of movies, asshole. Yikes. It was, he was so unreal, you know? Lifting his arm like a guru…? In Beverly Hills? Pointing at me… like, why are you doing that? WHAT makes you so wise? Don’t you think the Dalai Lama would agree? Right? It sounds like a joke, which sucks. “You do not have to manage the shift in reality.” It was my FAMILY you insensitive twat. He’s someone I want to curse at, I mean, I want to rip him to shreds. Turning to me in Beverly Hills, and telling me Dr. J was SMART. Whoopee cushion, right there, it’s necessary right there. No no no. Mr. Ghomi, her stupid savior, business manager, no. He did not save her because she was smart. He had matters he needed her to take care of, obviously. Tax-related. And nothing about that woman, I think, was smart. Wrapping your daughter in a sex scandal, sorry, cancels out the whole equation. Simple math. Ridiculous.

And now, I feel real, in that, yeah I was in a sex scandal when I was four… which was the glaringly obvious point that no one got.

Just, why this guy got a hard on, over that story, I don’t know. My friend who introduced me to these crazy people, who cares if they are rich, she gets invited out to Bel Air once a year by his sister, chill. She takes her around, buys her clothes, and shows her a nice time, I guess, as she’s a family friend of hers, but not me, no, I got this cheap mother fucker with haughty taughty secretive MANIFESTATION power, or knowledge, just a waste of my time. He’s not doing that to my friend, an ARTIST? He’s not talking exclusively about MANIFESTING. ABOUT CREATING YOUR OWN REALITY. I was VULNERABLE, he was right. What he did was — not okay.

So anyway that’s my outpour this morning, and I keep coming back to wanting to fulfill my greatest potential as I don’t quite know how to turn the wheel right now. I keep feeling better, basically, sort of contending with my childhood, not understanding why this guru was so obsessed with it, so obsessed with me becoming famous because of a sex scandal? And if it was ME, then why did he seek to change me? Meaning, if I was admirable, WHY did he GET INVOLVED? You see what I mean? He was a real idiot, for being a genius supposedly, honestly, because it was a sex scandal, you idiot. Humility 101, you should take the course. So, okay? I’m on social media… as he suggested after I got out of a hospital, and he’s number one on my shit list, and I’m putting that story out there… I’m putting myself out there. I thought comedy might be an avenue for me, I don’t know, that story, sort of wishing that I wasn’t here. I wasn’t THAT obsessed with it. No offense, but these trauma avenues, um, looking at the guru, like you got problems dude, that was a weird fetish, that I SYNCED up with, but I do not identify with, meaning you misread me. I was a vulnerable person. You got TOO involved. You were wrong, basically.

But, okay, I’m Lady Gaga, he believes I could be Madonna, basically. Okay, well she’s a performer, entertainer. He believes I could be the Madonna of writers? Okay, let me call the New Yorker and have them crack up at. that statement. “What does that mean?” Let me ask Joyce Carol Oates, “what does that mean to you?” I feel like I’m sorting through the mess in my head, thinking about death, like, making videos on social media, doing anything, really, there’s nothing wrong with it, if this is a passage, or if it leads to something… it’s fine to experiment a moment, and everyone shares their story on social channels, but probably people with heavy duty backgrounds will understand (NOT THE GURU TELLING ME I WAS DIVINELY INSPIRED BECAUSE I CAME FROM PARENTS WHO WERE NOT THERE) how triggering that suggestion would be.

But, I was thinking, I wanted to perform, see if there was a way… I needed to settle a score with myself, since I came to the other side of this afraid that I was going to regret my life. That’s your legacy, looking at a NICE guy, just a NICE guy, I’m currently dating. He said, briefly, respectfully, he noticed what I was doing, shrugging, it might be heavy, but whatever….? Ground floor. Good. Progress. I don’t need someone getting WRAPPED UP, not SEEING THEMSELVES. YOUR FEELINGS. NOT MINE. So I’m going to keep going, I’m going to move into the next phase, which is, rehearsal time, absorbing Brazilian women time, bringing Angelica Leibowitz to life. I need to work on comedy material now, move that forward, that angle… so I know exactly what it is I’m doing. Alright. And that’s it.

In the meantime, I keep trying to figure out the basics, but in a way that’s, yes, clever, yes, fulfilling, it’s just, writing, at least up to this point, hasn’t exactly worked, because I wasn’t thinking. I was thinking I might start a beauty channel, because I like trying out products, affliliate marketing. Something. My Big Sister of America gave me that “homework.” I don’t know if I needed to write about family, though I’m thinking about writing about psychology? I don’t know how to tackle that, a personal essay, yeah, something. I’m working on three things right now, so I’ll keep trying. A scene with Barbara Harris will be published soon in a journal. That’s all well and fine, but it’s not necessarily helping me, getting published in major outlets might. Not to say an agent can’t stumble upon it, I don’t know, but I have to figure that out, or grow — it’s just, typically sex scandals don’t inspire people to want to come closer… so I have to…

I just, no offense, didn’t want to be in this position. Where this is all I got, which it’s not, but — I’m going to have to keep moving through this. Keep figuring out… avenues that will treat my experience with respect. Where I can give back, too, and I can “be amazing,” as this guru knew I COULD be, if I CHOSE to be, which was — as Professor X’s protegee, as he believes I am as well, I’m sending this guy lasers shooting out of my fingers. Like run. Mark Wahlberg is my spiritual advisor, you see, on my entourage, lol. A dream of mine. He’s telling these Hollywood execs, Ari, “she’s going to call…” watch. He’s wearing prayer beads. I need a spiritual advisor, who is going to bring Hollywood to a better place, spiritually, yes. I’m not that person anymore if that makes sense, meaning, misinterpreted. I needed a second to figure out how I felt about something, it wasn’t that complicated, though maybe, ooooo, wow, at times, I could say, “is someone upset in this room?” And someone is. I feel ANGER. SO MUCH ANGER. Jesus. And I don’t think, Wahlberg shifting in his chair, as he is present at all functions I am at, encouraging me to develop, speak my feelings, for us all to accept this part of my “gift,” and use it for “growth,” deeper “connection,” lol. I’m laughing. “OKAY,” I’m having a hard time with it. But again, my look has changed, I’m older, I don’t know if I give off the same vibes… but, that was the idea… I don’t know why.

But, I’ll keep going. I don’t know what else to do if that makes sense. I wasn’t expecting to bring up…. what I did… but I hope there’s a bright pot of gold, greener pastures, real success in it, so I can look back at people and say, man, I really didn’t think I was going to be able to BUY A HOUSE, like that. I was going to be able to succeed. I didn’t think I had a problem with it, but my problems were obvious, that story being one of them. Like go away. Looking at Barbara Harris, Mark Wahlberg is able to sense her presence, lol, “yes,” maybe Matt Damon as well, only because MEN saw the truth, you see, when it came to my psychicness, my shaman-ness. Peopl believe I am a shaman, of some kind. A spiritual leader, medicine man. And I have Barbara Harris with me, as I needed an actress to help me through the last leg, the worst of it, and it worked, that’s basically it. Time for lunch.

So, off I go, I have to find a better job, now that I’m thinking SKILL, okay? the two fingers at my temple might be a compelling move as Professor X’s protegee, brought to vivid feeling because of the real headfuck I have been through, as a “psychic” who can read MINDS, sure, but more like time travel, the details would need to be worked out, but in real life, SKILLS. What are my skills? Attracting weird dudes, GARY IS blurting it out FIRST while passing me CHEAP BEER at a goddamn Yankees game. “You definitely have a talent.” I laughed, I had to. “Weird men,” his steel blue eyes. “WEIRD MEN.” That’s my friend. A guy friend. Simple. He has a FEMALE boxer, you see, a FEMALE boxer. That’s basically it right there. So I’m trying to get a job as an assistant, as I like taking care of people, I think I’d be good at that, a second, something that requires that I be in a physical location. I will apply for reporting positions, I guess? In terms of writing jobs, I don’t know what to do… what I want to do. I’ll see if I can break any ground with my personal life…

My friend is a successful writer — he heads a department at a mag, he writes books, you know, it’s not to say I couldn’t find a niche for myself that factors into a WHOLE, I just don’t know what that is. But I’m going to try and get craft, as my Big Sister of America would say, a Jennifer Aniston-type, or she would be played by her, as she wondered who she’d cast as her, and I said that, finally, because Aniston would capture her humor well, and Linda Barnes, her name, is sort of perfect. But she just told me to try and figure out if I can make money online, since people do… it’s taken a second, as it does, as I’ve been researching… I don’t know how to capitalize on my experience? So I’ll see if I can do something there. I want to develop a character, in aviators, it’s sort of gold, as a color scheme, of me being a call-in psychic. Phone, 1800-Im-psychic, you see? And I do my work, my real work, wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, and I’m USING the space, space speaks, as “things come up,” I will be guided BY my superiors, spiritual superiors, to the RIGHT FRAME that will speak to you. So, if I’m at the Farmer’s Market, we’re in chaotic territory… but the apples right now are REALLY POPPING OUT.

And why?

Are you in fairytale land? With this guy? Are you getting back to basics? Do you need to bake a pie? Which one is it? And then, yes, we had a breakthrough because of the apples. I knew, I know, sitting down, so we can UNPACK what just happened. “It’s important to understand that your mother is not really a witch, okay? She’s someone who looks like one, maybe, she can act like one, but in the end, this rivalry between you is just cartoon, you know, it’s no really real. See if you can break new ground with her, by changing YOUR alignment, YOUR POSITION, try a 45 degree angle, for real, approach her AT A NEW ANGLE, THINK ABOUT IT.” That’s a goal of mine, okay? NOW, look, I’m in PARAGON sports, next call, ugh, here we go, this person. “Uh huh?”

“You haven’t stopped talking for 23 minutes.”

“Okay,” picking up the phone, I’m on a date. “You have RESPECT ISSUES, NO NO NO NO NO. I’m SICK and TIRED of YOUR PROBLEMS. The problem IS NOT OTHER PEOPLE, I ASSURE YOU. IT’S YOU.” Standing at a glass facade, somewhere expensive. “What I’d like you to REFLECT on,” literally, is your own image ON A CITYSCAPE, literally, meaning, YOU’RE A PERSON IN A SEA OF PEOPLE. THINK. THINK about THE CHOICES you’re making. I’m not even going to bill you for this shit.” So that’s me, very successful call-in psychic business. I’m Dakota Fanning’s funny friend. We’re actually on a friend date. “Absurd, ANYWAY.”

So we’ll see, Barbara Harris is assisting me with all this. I feel good about that one, I’m just going to have to get someone to film me, and it’s not that hard. From afar. Up close. That’s it. From down low. “HEY…” and I’m coming out of the gate thsi time, “PUNCHY YEAH, because why the HELL are you STILL THERE????” She doesn’t know, “RIGHT!!!” And “what’s your name again, excuse me, because I’m in the moment, I get downloads, this quickly, yes. I’m frustrated already with you. You wanna know what’s wrong? The entire idea…” and where would I be? Bank of America? the ATM? I’m just getting calls — I’m just living my life, and you call me. Staring at ESPRIT on Broadway, over it. “It’s time to get concrete here.” then I’m going to locations to meet up with friends… “someone’s about to call me,” I say, “I feel it.” Here they are… I just pick up… so they can meditate on the sounds of a bustling restaurant. “Hello?” I’m not responding.

Hm, hm, for your own good.

Later we can unpack that, “what happened… when you heard the noise? What was your thought process?”

“Abandoned? Confused?”

“Okay,” later, by candlelight, in my apartment, “yes, did this help you to face the demon so YOU. can make NEW choices?”

Anyway, stuff like this makes me happy. “Look,” in an office, “you’re getting married, we’re talking about something basic, here, relax, everyone gets divorced, hunny, just go through with it, and see what happens…” rolling my eyes at this person. “Will it work out? That’s what YOU’RE CALLING ME for? Do I see a future? Well, you’re going to have to SEE it, you see, so what do you see?” All I see are WAYS child, WAYS, many streets, many directions. So why don’t you pick one?”

“Okay, we got through it.”

“Now go get married and be happy for once in your life.”

Hanging up. “Jesus.”

And there, the psychic looks out the glass… full of feeling, she doesn’t know how she got here (Barbara Harris laughing) at this serious moment of inward reflection. She shakes her head at her, that, lol, her dead companion. Distracted, “yeah?” You need that, obviously. That moment, when the reality of this person lands, no? I love my psychic, my call-in psychic. I’ll work on that.

“Hello WHO? ME? PSYCHIC? WHO TOLD YOU? HOW DID YOU GET MY NUMBER???” AGGRESSIVE. “You need to grow a pair of BALLS. First point, OF COURSE I AM CORRECT.” Grabbing broccoli. “It’s a root problem,” smiling, because it’s SO on the nose. A supermarket. I’ll work on that one. My head in my hands, spotting a Van Leewuen, “it’s just… it’s NOT ice cream, not the vegan kind, meaning, you’re not aware that this person is NOT who they say they are… they appear one way, and maybe they have some other hunnys on the side, yes, I think so, I’m getting that clearly… next time he says he’s going out with his friends, call me, we’ll follow him…”

And he’s going to be cheating on her!!!!!!

“FUCK TARD.”

“Caught you, asshole.”

“How confusing was that? I was looking at Van leeuwen, not knowing how it’s spelled even, and that’s what it was, this mother fucker is CHEATING ON YOU!!! He’s somewhere NICE, real NICE, HEAR ME, I can SEE THE GODDAMN LIGHTING. SOMEWHERE YOU KNOW, too. This asshole. I can’t SEE the location… but it might be near Union Square. EW! He’s THERE??????” I’m on the phone with her, supporting her through this. “YES, you’re going in. You’re going in…fuck that, I’m in a CAB… I’M ALMOST THERE, YES.”

AND TOGETHER WE’RE GOING TO — BLAST THIS “EX,” I’m signing it, I’m underlining it, AWAY. “Look man, I need a drink, that was one of the MOST confusing psychic experiences I have ever gone through, like WOW, that GUY was — a PROBLEM. HOLY SHIT. He’s going to call you, I assure you. Yup. NOPE. No. The answer is NO.” And maybe she’ll prove me wrong or something, as there needs to be other notes in this, I have to learn something, go on some journey. Anyway, that’s different. That’s not a bit.

“How do you do this?”

Stupid shrug, “DUNNO.”

“is it hard?”

“Oh very,” sort of tongue and cheek about it. “I cannot,” hands, “move through life normally, of course…”

“I can see into people’s souls, yes,” seriously, as the shaman told me I could. “I am a portal, channel, and antenna traveling on multiple planes of existence…” and yes, “i can speak to animals, but it’s residue from the 15th century, specifically…” UH OH, stopping short. “I’m getting a bleedthrough from…” squinting, “325 BCE.”

“So sorry…just so sorry about that…no I can’t, I can’t speak about it, it was a bad day…not an easy ERA.”

Suddenly British. “Ghastly.”

Anyway, I’m off today.

A little romance in the air, which is fun

Throw a ball against the fabric of reality

Did you see National Geographic’s issue dedicated to magic?

Game of thrones: a French woman is indeed présente. She's been there the whole time. She's just, hanging out in a wing...you didn't think was there... doing her thing, easily.

I just hung out with my friend who lives beneath the Empire State Building. More or less, she’s the right hand man of the president of google or something. And it all started with a letter, she said.

“I had no idea what I was doing, in film school, not going to go in that direction. I contacted the French embassy — and that kicked it all off.”

Now, she makes a super good living, very. Like, every three years, she makes over a million. That’s a smart person. In her thirties. For someone who isn’t in entertainment or an industry where you could make — multi millions, I don’t know how to compare, but she’s extremely comfortable and doing very well in her life. She could start her own business, I don’t know, decide to do something else, but she’s only going up from here.

I get that…I could have a lamborghini, in some capacity, I got that note… I don’t know what to say… picturing Charlotte in this situation, she’d never be in.

I just happened to meet at this crucial juncture in my life — men I didn’t need to meet. And there was a lesson in all this for me, that my life, my friends, the people I had, they were my greatest untapped resource. I didn’t need to have this bright bulb attitude… I didn’t need these men enabling my shadows… I needed to turn inward, sure, but into my life, the people in it, and dig in there. My head was a mess.

It’s been such a gift to be with her on her rooftop overlooking the city in surround sound, floating in vertical landscape of angular glass towers, H & M along the top of one, the empire state building lighting up at an intense angle, as if it were shooting out of our heads. A New York dream.

We have the best most elaborate apéro ever where we’re snacking like royalty nonstop—it’s so French, so wine flows. We carry our bags of food from her one bedroom surrounded by windows, the current changement politique on TV, to the very top. I love that about the French, there’s always a discussion with snacks, good wine, you’re basically feasting, apero.

She’s handing me a super nice bottle of wine because her boss gave it to her and she doesn’t drink wine. She drinks Corona. I don’t. She gave me two bags of groceries because she’s leaving in two days and she’s so abundant and generous and I’m so proud of her and enamored with her because she’s done really well in her career. And she’s so grounded around money — she has retained a realistic perspective as to what a lot of money is, she’s not wasting her money even if she clearly dresses well, she clearly is doing well in her life. She’s always talking, especially when it comes to food, what’s correct, and what’s not.

If I were making what she makes a year, I would have basically replaced what I lost.

That’s what I mean about how some people treated me when I inherited some money. I get I knew where to buy clothes but — I guess I was a character out of a movie to people, hilariously, looking at Dave Chappelle, because they mistook me for a rich person. That guy isn’t making that mistake. Some people thought 500k made me a Kardasian destined to be Meghan Markel. That’s a no. I was not an heiress, be real. Because I had nice clothes? And I found good apartments? Or was it my personality? I don’t think that a rich person is...reading me like that. Meaning, I might not have appeared like I was totally aware… and unfortunately, strangely, even, I seemed to inspire thoughts from people I didn’t even understand or relate to, I just didn’t say anything. Like, for the most part, people’s impressions of me — didn’t resonate. And I also went along with everything, in a sense, because WHO CARES?

And the Zen Master Sybil, who will go down as my biggest regret, as she really was the best psychologist I met. I just couldn’t grasp what she was saying. “CARE, this is the problem with you.” Who cares? She’d slap me proverbially across the face with RAGE. She tried, she really did. I didn’t have an opinion, I’d say in college, because everyone has one — so who cares? You think you’re opinion is special? The fact that you have one? Get over yourself. Now, I have a opinion. Now I am over whatever this problem was. I wish I stuck with her, but it took a painful road, as I reconnected with her at the end of my TWENTIES, and if I had stayed at 26, as she BEGGED ME TO, I would have avoided these men. “Who the FUCK are they?” That’s the first question she’s asking, as she just tried to get ENRAGED at me.

“YEAH,” I can picture her face — in my FACE — “WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE? WHAT DO THEY WANT FROM YOU, MARIA? IT’S TIME TO THINK. WAKE UP.” Doing drugs at the Carlyle? This woman? She would have taken a cab from Queens, lol, “psychedelics?!” She would have shown up, enraged — “where the fuck is she?” And she would have dragged my ass out. “You’re NOT the person to give drugs to…” Unreal! I really ended up… skidding off… you see. It was family problems, for sure, that I wasn’t aware of, not to say that I was going to become my mother, I’d rather die, quite frankly, but still, I had to deal with inheritances I didn’t understand. Not the person to get involved with, like the GURU was an idiot, and she would have been the person to — fire breathing dragon: AWAY. GET AWAY.

I think, to her, my rage problem, which she saw as a CARE issue, fundamentally, ended up bringing these men into my life, in the end, like I had lost all sense of — maybe not all — danger, even. Some dude from Beverly Hills, wanting to act like he’s a psychologist? And with all people! ME — someone who wasn’t a level ONE. Unreal! And I ended up leaving her, because we disagreed about “expectations.” Imagine? She was right. She’s NOT saying “don’t have vision,” she’s saying “NO EXPECTATIONS.” So, what can I say? I fell for shiny pictures.

Charlotte, my friend last night, was like, here’s the thing, I’m going to tell you, I would chose ONE thing, if I were you. UH HUH, look, I’ve been here before. I’m glad I did that, because I used to really absorb what people thought, and I would put their opinions above my own. I said, that’s not where I’m at hunny. I’m in transition. I can’t CHOOSE acting yet. I can go on auditions, I can get that going, but CHOOSING one thing, that’s technically writing. I just need to rethink how I approached that because the last decade was even stupid, so I ended up in some random corner.

I wanted to be a writer at the top of my thirties — and I met, no one I needed to.

This guru goes, “your life idea is family.” Why is this man HELPING me for one? Because I am unfortunate? Because I am SPECIAL? At writing? WHY? I was just trying to LEAVE FAMILY! It’s called a maladapative pattern. And this guy, another one, a slytherin goes, “go into psychedelics….” and these two men, unrelated, they’re going, “you gotta practice writing,” when that’s so vague. Charlotte asked me, “where do you want to END UP?” A book? Okay, then Charlotte is going to go, “how can you get there?” But in terms of “being a writer,” meaning working as one, working for publications, that’s what I’m thinking now. Do I want to end up at Vanity Fair? New Yorker? Think, Maria. What do you want to write about? I started as an interviewer, right? Because I liked people. But it wasn’t my dream, you know? I had past to work out, so I wouldn’t be here to begin with I don’t think… I ended up here, and I’m… starting over.

I wanted to be an actor when I was nine… and I came to wonder if that was truly my dream… that me, no way, that I didn’t listen to…

But all the same, I acquired a skill. I hope at least. I am where I’m at.

I told her, crunching radishes, she got me a fat stack of mortedella, cold cuts, just a lovely generous person, that I had to start over, you know? And she doesn’t judge me for where I’m at, and God knows I don’t care where she’s at, so we can meet, but I’m trying to think more strategically, think about what I’d like to do with writing, as I, for better and for worse, have been doing it for years now, and it hasn’t really gone anywhere, so what do I want to do? Is there a way that this could help me to thrive? What do I want to write about?

So admittedly, I didn’t know how to answer that question yet, I’m thinking about it, now. Like, do I want to cover scandals? She was saying, is there something I could do to help me…like getting a psychology degree? Anything that will help my “expertise” in the area I’d like to be in.

That’s what she does: strategy.

She said she’d look over my CV, and she’d help me strategize a plan of attack. She said, how many CVs did you send out today? I said two. She said, what about 200? Okay, I laughed. I’m looking forward to getting her perspective on how I’m presenting myself, because she said, she helped her friend, and he got two job offers, etc., and I’ll continue to think about — where I’d like to end up.

She said, that if she were me, she’d be following the NY Mayor elections. She’d be interviewing people… and I nodded, because it’s creative thinking, but that’s not my way.

When it comes to writing, I don’t know — I told her I was working on essays, that I’m targeting EPIC, because they are a magazine that has connections in film. I think entertainment is where I’d like to go, I want to get a book deal, but I think Miracle Mile would make a strong motion picture. I’m working on an essay about Barbara Harris, so I’m going to target more reputable outlets with that, but when it comes to writing jobs or publication jobs, I don’t know what to say. Do I want to be a staff writer? It’s a basic question.

It’s like, what am I going to say about FAMILY, no offense, or am I supposed to talk about trauma or overcoming maladaptative patterns? Where? Besides an essay, what exactly is going to open up a door? In that case, I should get some kind of back up… which is what she suggested, thinking about it that way. I was also thinking about the think pieces that the NYTimes does, about “self development being America’s true passtime,” so I feel like I’m beginning to approach this from a better angle.

If I don’t want to write like that, what am I going to do? I just got back, after wandering the Earth, and no offense, the Zen Master Sybil would be like, Jesus Christ, “this delusional travel spell…” AN UTTER NIGHTMARE. That was an utter nightmare! I don’t give a shit about travel. These Beverly Hills gurus, they need to wake up—if someone was IN the hospital, you don’t encourage them to travel without money — with this — anything is possible attitude. They have a problem.

Nothing but enablers, I’m telling you.

I just got back to New York and am looking for more work, and if I could figure out how to approach writing more productively, maybe I could just support myself better, but I don’t quite know what to do. So that’s what I’m thinking about right now… how I can use what I got, right now, to elevate my life a bit.

I’m going to see what she says about my CV, and I’m going to continue thinking about how I can write in a way that will work for me. Or, in what direction it could support me because I’m in an active position — looking back, I don’t think I needed to BE A WRITER in this way, you know what I mean? But I’m moving into a new phase of my life, and I can only move forward based on where I’m at.

I’m working on my book, all that, but JOB WISE, in the present moment, what DO I DO? There was no trajectory there. No career. If I had published a book already, that’d be one thing, but I’m still working behind the scenes. Charlotte suggested giving French people tours of New York, so she gave me creative ideas, which I’ll keep in mind. I rather just stick to my own circle. I most certainly didn’t NEED HELP, you see, that was ridiculous. LOOK AT ME. DO I LOOK LIKE I NEED HELP? Insane, insane! I can picture the Zen Master Sybil, nodding enraged at me: “MARIA you’re a WOMAN?????” And once upon a time, “huh?” “MARIA????”

“Get with it.”

What a shadow that was, truly, the help shadow — almost killed me. I got out though. I exited, those gears turn without me, I’m not inside these mechanisms anymore. Stupid, it was so stupid, it really was. Even living for free — right? WHY????????? Zen Master Sybil. “Why??????? Are you in DREAMLAND? YEAH,” she would have turned her cheek ENRAGED. Looking back on her rage, it was full of wisdom, and funny enough, it was the spiritual perspective.

If I were working a couple of nights a week in a restaurant to make extra money, that would be fine, at the next step, right? As I need to recover. But I’m looking for direction and fulfillment. I crashed landed in NYC, I had to start over—okay. I shrug. So we build over time, sure, some CRAZY INSANE IMPOSSIBLE OPPORTUNITY COULD FALL FROM THE SKY, the guru would bark, or something, and let it fall, please, I’m begging that it does, but I can’t operate like that — I have to pursue. I do not want to get stuck in purgatory. And if something comes from that, that I didn’t expect, that’s luck. Let me be lucky, sure. But I’m in a seat of action now, which is a better position to be in. I’m opening my mind, admitting to myself: look, I worked out my life recently. I understand WHY I’m here, and I understand that I want a HOUSE, forget home. I’m talking the literal location. Too much sentiment back there. And no offense, I look at Barbara Harris, because I was a vulnerable person, and I’m giving you two fuck you fingers, okay? YOU go be VULNERABLE, it sucks ASS.

I told my friend this evening it’s my metaphor right now. I felt, I said, that I’m finally living my life, or I’ve grabbed “the bull by the horns.” I can’t quite get comfortable, I’m on a ride, and there’s fear in it. I thrust myself foward, shit, audition friday, and shit there’s an audition yesterday? What? How? That was fast. I’m sending a video anyway, I don’t care. I have no money right now, I don’t care. There’s moments where I cry. I don’t know what to do, how I got here, why I was thinking — build over time, not to say I couldn’t have met a COUNT, as this professor of mine, he believed I could become a member of the royal family, British. That’s funny, it’s a good movie idea. I’m in Love Actually, and Benedict Cumbertach is a politician, and we have a hilarious romance or relationship of some kind — full of humor and heart. He’s going to be at his wit’s end — I’m going to be making him laugh… He can’t deal with the pressure of the situation he’s in, and I came from a sex scandal, man. Hold it together. In the parliament kitchen. I’m kicking my feet, getting Neapolitan in sunglasses. It’s a good idea…but in REALITY, I probably would have positioned myself better by shining in the world — if I wanted to meet a DUKE, which makes me laugh. Again, I made my choices.

But I look back like, “huh.” That was silly. I was not a play thing.

I chose to not be ambitious, not pursue what I deemed to be worldly pursuits. I was not someone who was seeking to succeed in the world, I decided not to. Okay, I shrug at myself now because all that — vanished. It was a flimsy entreprise. I have a very different sense of self now that I worked out a psychological problem.

I have no idea what’s going to happen — but I do have the feeling, though I experience lots of ups and dips, that I’m more aligned with what I want my life to be. It might not be the lofitest goals, but for someone who was told by all these random people that I was Professor X’s protegee, seriously, that I was the most psychic human being, able to channel other times, and I could be a movie star, though I had never been in a movie, nor did this person see me act, or write! It was purely based on what I looked like, which is rather basic, or my personality….I lost sentence structure. I could make it, in some capacity. That was the point…that I wasn’t getting… I was “an elite” person, who just needed this guy’s help… getting to older men? I was confused.

They weren’t getting me. It was not the other way around.

That’s what the emotional retour was, about me. OKAY. I could be a Duchess. I could be “the girl with a plane.” ME. I could find a super super rich man with a plane, or a Saudi Prince. No problem. HOW I became this person — I have no idea. It was comical, for sure. Not that I couldn’t meet a Saudi Prince and enchant him. I just don’t understand how this became my potential “gift” or life path. It was the strongest play I could make, in other words. (Some people don’t feel that way, they’d say, I could inspire these kinds of thoughts…) It’s still funny.

I’m a smart person.

I think I had a look, no offense, not to get basic about it. I think people were affected by how I looked and how I acted and they made up a story I could inhabit — in their mind. That’s fascinating to me, like I could have — cue, “and I said how about, breakfast at tiffanys…” walked down the block with conviction and eccentricity towards Tiffany’s on Fifth Ave. I could have been the modern version of a person who eats a croissant in the mornings with an allure, looking into Tiffany windows, in good sunglasses. I’m 100% confused. You know? I had range, this was the other point, why didn’t you see that? Was I really Breakfast at Tiffanys? Thinking about how I look on camera. Not like I couldn’t be that person, but I’m not sure. Me saying DIAMONDS in pearls… getting into a cab in a black gown… I was inspirited? Enchanted? Yet real? I don’t even know who I was to people. I looked like I had money… but I really lived in…a regular apartment. Nothing special. It was all an act, even if she was one of a kind. It’s Audrey Hepburn. I exuded a quality, or I developed in a directon, but I’m looking back, and thinking — I have no idea who that is, someone I’m still making sense of.

Hannah Arendt is seeing me lug racks of clothes across airports…? To this song.

I don’t feel a strong sense of continuity. I feel as though, I am closer to the child that I was, and there’s a middle period that I’m lost, basically, that’s it. I don’t totally understand it, myself, and I’m still piecing together what happened. In the end, I met people who said, you could make it in some capacity, and how this differed from anyone else, I do not know, it was a touch ridiculous. I’d like a house. I’d like a partner. Family, sure, but I don’t know what that means, I’m almost 40, not to say I couldn’t have a child, but life is in these details, I think.

I’m trying to connect to what my real dream is, and thinking about where I’m at currently, and even think larger for myself, trying to hone in on the skills I have, or what I’ve been doing, and figuring out how to make that work better for me. So — what do I want to write about? What do I excel at? So I’m figuring that out, because I don’t want to work in a restaurant, I’d like to turn my wheel in some capacity, as a writer, because I’m there, I can pitch articles, easily, it’s more about direction… so that will clarify itself. For the moment, I’m going to finish these pieces I’m working on, and I hope that they will land… I like EPIC, just because, XMAS in NAPLES is EPIC, too, it could be. Barbara Harris could be, too, I’m just trying to go into entertainment, I think. But that doesn’t mean I can’t cover scandals, do a think piece, whatever it is that I would enjoy covering, even if scandals suck.

I might be without answers, but I feel as though this is my life, that I’m beginning to go after it. “And I said, what about Breakfast at Tiffany’s…” with the ghost of Barbara Harris laughing. It’s funny, because, the slytherin said I reminded him of her, which is funny, because I get it, I get it concerning the person I was back then, it’s just that, that wasn’t really me, and he was talking about who she was…onstage. Not to say she wasn’t vulnerable, I don’t know how to approach that. But I’ve wrapped my hands around the horns, and I’m not letting go, and I feel my internal compass respond… but I still have all this manifestation shit I don’t need. I don’t know what to do about the pictures I see in my mind… not that fun, always.

I know you can manifest. I know you can make your dreams a reality, sure. My head was a goddamn mess. I’m telling you. I have no clue HOW I’m going to get there, only that, I have to make a reach, get a grip, and put clear instructions into the GPS, I’m aiming to go “here.” It’s basic.

My friend, she wakes up at 4 AM every day and works until 10 PM she said, sometimes, but for the money she makes, I guess she must work hard, but she’s got balance in her life, it seems, where she can go on vacation, sit for a couple of hours with me, and luckily, I’m the type of person who leaves at 9, not a quarter to 10, so I’m a thoughtful friend. People sometimes can RUN OVER in a way, I don’t understand. I’m out. She owns her apartment in Paris, and that’s where I wish I was, in some configuration. I’m not there. I can’t buy an apartment, I can’t say I have a career yet, or that I was even interested in those things… it’s just, stuff I had to work out. Which is why I reject “the other mother” thing, reject. I did NOT NEED THIS.

Fuck off.

I don’t know what to say about the heart, literally speaking, meaning people with overactive hearts, just because my HEART was a goddamn mess. That too. My mind, sure, but holy shit, this guru, my cousins, opening up like that — a disaster. My heart was a mess. The organ, yes. And was that the psychedelics, too? Just a major fuck you to those people with their heart openers. Major fuck you. Major fuck you to the slytherin who farted on me, and I don’t give a shit, because — congratulations, you’re so evolved. I came from a background, assholes, and a dead woman helped me better than any of you — Hannah Arendt. Here’s a major leaguer who just has to sit there.

Anyway, so I’m off the next couple of days, which is great, I’m listening to my body, and stating what I want, as I had a bit of a dramatic — why are things happening to me, because my employer, and I love them, that’s not the issue, put me in as much as they could, but I had a response — and I’m just listening to that. So I’m working in a restaurant for the moment, and I’m trying to… keep growing and moving… and they love me, for real, these people, they appreciate me, so they only want me to… thrive out there in the world, so THAT’s the type of energy I need. I HAVE community. I do. I just wasn’t seeing my life clearly. I mean, holy moly, what a strange decade.

But I got to the other side, successfully, and I’m trying to digest all that, for one, and think about how to package all that, and share that, because I went through a very rude awakening. “Words are not your primary form of communication,” imagine? This guru. He was a goddamn computer. Ridiculous. Anyway, it was so lovely seeing her, it was sucha God send that she was in town for a few months when I got back, so the stars aligned, she’s such a solid and loving friend, and we didn’t talk about all this, because we never had that kind of relationship, but there’s a real friendship there. She had to see me, before she left, type deal. And I always love speaking French, because I love that language. So that was my night, I’m sad she’s leaving, but I feel more aligned, better about WHO I am, WHERE I come from, and putting myself out there. I gotta get to an open mic… but more so than that, I have to get into a rehearsal room now and work stuff. I have to nail Angelica, I have to get a tennis skirt and cap — and begin ACTING as her. “HEY YOU, girl! Andrea, Jo, Michele, Louise, Nicole, MARIA! POHA! GODDAMIT!! MARIA!!!!!!” SHe knocking down children, “yes?” “NOT YOU,” she ANNOYED. This woman was amazing.

“This BEETCH told me rape,” smiling at you to rip her to shreds. I just have to master the acecnt. “Pay attention, pay attention…” I need to work her musical lessons in the car. “LISTEN, life is a moment in SPACE… PAY ATTENTION…”

“When the dream is GONE, it’s a lonelier PLACE, WHY? PAY ATTENTION…” and her chest is forward, these were utterly hysterical. “I KISS THE MORNING GOODBYE,” and she waved it goodbye for sure, “and you know we never know why,” but she did, right? She made love, baby, all morning long, BUH BYE…I’m four. Trailing behind her… she got another baby, lol, she didn’t want. Insane.

Anyway, I’m off for the day.

Hey! I got an audition but I missed it!! But I sent in a tape ANYWAY

Hey!!

Nooooooo.

I was working this weekend so I didn’t SEE the email, she gave me NO notice, that’s how it works, doesn’t it? Okay, I learned. I’m kicking myself right now.

She said, we work really fast, so I know that now, and she said the caliber of my talent was really compelling I suppose, so that’s the way it goes, we move fast. And I was like, HOLY SHIT, did she say THE CALIBER OF MY TALENT?

The ghost of Barbara Harris and I ARE FLIPPING OUT RIGHT NOW. We’re flipping out! I know no one. I haven’t acted like EVER. I always wanted to though.

Hopefully that means other people might reach out to me, I just would have loved to possibly do a short at the end of the month, who knows, maybe she’ll give me a chance, because it was EOD yesterday that I had to submit by.

But that’s great news. I have to keep believing myself, because I was super good, maybe, so anyway that really thrilled me to see, I couldn’t even believe it. I wrote her three emails—wait, what? Then, I’ll submit anyway, and oh, sorry, I hope you keep me in mind. I have to laugh. But I feel great, so I might be a little broke right now but I got good feedback.

I’m picking a scene right now for Columbia Grad auditions this Friday.

I chose Erin Brockovich — inspired by JIM CARREY BITCH — YES, I MIND. I MIND — it’s MY PAYCHECK. YES. I MIND. Fuck YOU MAKE TIME. I’m kinda going to angry, these days, I don’t know why, maybe because I feel like I have so much anger at my disposal. But it’s a working woman, so…

I have Columbia grad on Friday, so I have to prepare a scene anyway, so I thought, this is how this industry works — you gotta DRIVE to THEIR HOUSE regardless with your cousins (for personality sake) to DELIVER THE MONOLOGUE TO YOU. OKAY? And trim their roses. SURE, sure. No problem. I’ll deliver Erin Brockovich to you while you’re trimming roses. And Rosa will prepare the food.

So I sent a self-tape because the submit sheet was still open. Not my fault. May I make waves through NYU grad, please. Yes, I’m serious, and I don’t give a shit what I look like. May they laugh at my makeupless hilarious self tape as I read this scene cold, practically. So we’ll see, I did everything I could on my end.

So fingers crossed. Sometimes that works, right? That kind of BALLSY there is NO SUCH THING AS NO — even on the day. Driving to set, lol, with my cousins, my Neapolitan COUSINS (Rosa) — we’re pulling up to Paramount, we’re ACTING like we’re the florists. We made fake documents… flowers in the back. Sure, sure.

That would be so awesome, to film a short at the end of the month? Joy. It’s alright, I know these things happen, so you gotta just be super excited, let it go, as Barbara Harris taught me to do. But that’s a great sign. I left feeling “poopy” because I didn’t even know what I did. You know? I was sort of just thrilled, about the whole thing. I hope this hilarious audition tape gets passed around. I look Cubist, I believe, I look like I have a Cubist face. But I can act IN your face.

Okay, so now, I thought about that, too, I have to be super super on top of my email, I just wasn’t expecting to get something right away, so that’s fantastic. I’ll keep my phone handy, just in case, obviously. I got this audition on Friday, and I’m already off book practically. So that’s wonderful, two shots made in one.

Okay okay okay, finding balance in the public eye

I just posted a graphic on my Instagram because I just posted a section of Miracle Mile on my book blog — I’m staying extremely undescriptive about it, meaning, I’m not describing what Nicole and I did exactly, because I remember screaming and playing in the foyer, I remember climbing over her legs on the stair, but I don’t remember sordid details, if you would. We were just told to run amuck, but yes, Angelica Leibowitz very transparently put her hand to her ear, she lifted her hand to signal—time to raise the roof. Up the volume. Reach the stars. So we did. We got to dancing, lol, we got to playing, really, but we might as well at that point.

It gets easier putting that story out there, I haven’t had that much success yet in the publication arena, and it’s been, strange for me, figuring out how to tackle that. I’ve battled whether or not there’s a real point to, just because, honestly, I didn’t want to be here. Sure, I said, “she lied about him being a child molester” to many people, it’s just no one was really hearing what I was saying, so this GURU for example, is telling me to get ONLINE and BE SOMEBODY — and then, it’s about sex, or I went on a revelatory journey, you see, when I started writing — which I’ve tried to TELL PEOPLE I KNOW — to NO real recognition. That’s been maddening.

So I’m here, you know? I’m someone who is SO sensitive to triggers, and I get angry at the feeling that I should censor myself because of WHAT IT IS, simply speaking. I’ve been at a tug of war. Because, well, social channels are there, people get discovered there, so I don’t care that much, but putting something out there that’s being received by no one you can see, exactly, and something that — do you like that? What do you…do? Like it? Do you like it? Not really. Which is fine. I’ll get to the likeable stuff, eventually. But I keep taking steps in putting it out there, in this way. It’s like, it’s a public platform. It’s not a private space, but people are in their private worlds when they are on it. Social media is one of these fascinating new spaces that has changed the public realm. But publications are posting about scandals, abuse, on social channels, so I’m just inserting myself into the conversation… with a really really impactful story, no? I hope so. I mean, the love songs, unreal. The LAMBADA being the overaching theme here is so deep.

So sex is going to become good, in the end, Jose Leibowitz dancing with grandma, right? Just because, how do you tackle what’s unbelievable to people? I keep feeling better about it, just putting it out there… hoping that it will help me…get seen, and that I’ll be able to get a book deal, all that. I just wasn’t expecting to have to lead with the subject, which is — it’s so obvious, it drives me nuts, because the blindness and internal hall of mirrors of it, people don’t want it to exist, and everything looks a bit different in the public eye. A story like that, to me, I just keep reaching for it, because — it’s a space where scandals can exist, most definitely. It’s a space of debate. But no one, in looking at that story, is going to tell me that it wasn’t true. The question is — what happened next? Is it?

I usually make a super gross face. At that point. These were my parents!

By the time I get to the DROP OFFS? At my house? One, I remember, I just can’t even PLACE myself as we reached the end of it! I was looking at my parents — wanting to rip their faces OFF. WAS THIS TRUE CONFEDERACY OF DUNCES? Angelica wouldn’t EVEN be able to HANDLE IT, except, at the BH Tennis Club, she asked me, “was it true?” Once of these memories I came to realize I had. I don’t know what to say about whether or not I was repressing abuse, I don’t know what to say, because I do not know how this works at all. Did Amy Griffin go through strange gynecological events? Did she go through HIP pain? I can’t remember in the book. I went through extreme pain. I don’t even know what the body of psychosis is. But I was also interacting with a psychopath, okay? Who was “mentoring” my book draft about all this, YIKES, played by AMAZING STELLAR MUST BE SEEN IMPOSSIBLY DARK AND IMPORTANT John Malkovich WHY HE IS JOHN MALKOVICH. I’m sorry I have to laugh, because this guy literally told me that a fictional character in my draft was a psychological device. Be real.

Okay? I was going through experiences, for sure, I just don’t know what’s what, what’s possible, as that was all mixed up. I’m just taking it piece by piece. But I did go through some strange experiences, nonetheless. Once I get more settled, I’ll run tests with my physician, just to make sure I’m alright physically, and he’s right you know, if you’ve been in the hospital, you might want to see your doctor?

Talking about it helps, but mental health, again, forget it. OOMPA LOOMPA DO BA DEE DO… here is a… diagnosis for you… I just couldn’t even believe how ethereal it was. It’s just a medical emergency. I just went through a medical emergency.

The brain, even, since I don’t know how to tackle this, is connected to every part of you, so I went through a physical event, regardless. I don’t know what to say about anyone else. Maybe connections should be made? If you come up to me, and they did, and look, my day two nights in that hospital were — important. Dante, indeed, my cousins in Naples truly believe I am Dante. So they came up to me, and they asked me whether or not I was experiencing hallucinations…

“A hallucination is a strictly sensational form of consciousness,” William James. And at one point, I went through so much sensation in that area of my body that the hallucinations were severe. I was on the floor struggling with that area of my body… moving to the side… because the hallucinations were too close… I know what they are, I know they are hallucinations, stop. But why I was experiencing so much in that area of my body, I didn’t know. I mean, look, on the one hand, I can’t even state anything, but the sexual trauma specialist I’m consulting… said people can describe things in this range. Even my weird hip pain. No offense, I can’t even identify WHERE this might have happened. And neither could he. But yeah, possibly, he said. But it was, his comment, “and we must remember,” must, basically, “that there are the ages BEFORE four,” what? “The ages 0 to 4…” I’m sorry????? Are people being abused before they have an age? Can someone hear me, I wept, I really did.

Who is this person?

We only talked once, so next time I’ll ask him what… the body of this is? If he could talk to me about that… just because I have no ability to contexualize. The only thing I can say is that I got to the other side of something. I just don’t know what it is. But that was always the story. It just didn’t make sense… nothing changed about the bare bones of it, and my friend, one of them, might remember me throwing my fists — manaically — at Astor Place Starbucks — “SHUSH, we’re not going to tell him what we know….’ and you have to picture someone like John Stewart taking me in…. with big eyes. “HAHAHAHAHAHA.”

Big eyes, “I have no idea what’s going on…” and no one got it, I thought, but what exactly did I get? I had to look back on myself, like, what was I doing? The way I approached that, I am blown away by myself. So it was always the same. I really did talk to this lady at the BH Tennis Club for YEARS. Years. So that’s what that is.

Now we’re off, that took a few months. I have to keep developing my ideas. Typically, people didn’t ask me what I had to say, but I was also acting weirdly, I mean, in some adversial relationship with audience that THEY didn’t see, where, at every step, their interpreating, at every step, they’re lost, just totally lost. Who’s who? Did she, or she? Is this your mother now? LOL, truly, laugh out loud. I don’t relate to the word trauma, actually, I don’t know what to say, because I also got involved with a psychedelic group, not really reailzing — that this was not a good idea. Okay? So my physician was like, maybe you had an adverse experience later? I don’t know what to say because I had stopped. And again, I don’t know the body of ANY of it.

But like, hmmmm, I walked over the Bill of Rights at the hospital, and started reading. I even read it outloud, asked permission to, I asked the attendant beside me,
”may I?” Okay. Just to set down an anchor. I don’t know if I was handled properly. Aren’t taking showers some kind of sign? That was the first thing I did. I couldn’t stop taking showers. You know? Then, they asked me to “talk to people,” imagine? Isn’t that YOUR job? So I did, I walked into my room, and asked Lisa Rios how she got here… you see. Again, you know, that was an event, for sure, I hated mental health, hated it. But, like, the guru said, “panic attacks are par for the course…”

WHERE IS HE GETTING THIS INFO?

WHAT IS HE TALKING ABOUT?

HE BELIEVES based on literally no credentials, literally nothing, literally, that I was repressed. REPRESSING WHAT? He indirectly suggested, shoved down MY THROAT even, that I wasn’t FED or bathed or cared for properly — WHAT was this MAN DOING? Acting all like — skipping through meditation meadows, like he’s not doing anything. WAS I? Where am I? I really was blown away. This man had some nerve, and at times, I get these sensations, like… am I supposed to acknowledge the GOOD times? Look, GURU, I wouldn’t have been there at STEP ONE. Was he in love with me? Did he take advantage of me? I don’t think he did, but like, this man was so strange, so GURU ESQUE, that it’s a bit disturbing.

In any case, I’ll keep going with the story, I’m going to pause a second on my blog, because I’m working on it behind the scenes, but it’s where I sit with it, in terms of the spectacle of the whole thing. I think I chose ENYA “Only If” because of the manifestation stuff too. “Only if you want to, you can seize the day…only if you want to, you can find a way…” and I’m sitting here, like, MANIFESTATION was not MY PROBLEM — I HAD NO PROBLEM WITH IT.

I’m applying for jobs, trying to keep my cool with where I am in the moment, I had to start over, you know, completely. And yet, I’m going to have to do a goddamn survey because everything I say that, people have said “everyone feels that way.” In fact, no matter WHAT I say, “Everyone feels that way.” So who gives a shit? I cannot even tell you, how that’s NOT what I have ever said to a person. So am I experiencing what 40 is? I mean, people wake up to their life, have crises, but that’s what I woke up to. I recently sent Dr. J, another SUBJECT ONLY EMAIL. I do that from time to time now. Was that true?

I asked her if he was a threat to me, but what is she going to say? YEAH? “No,” she didn’t hestitate, Dr. J, so she knew what I was talking about, no?????? He was a gentle man. I could have reached through the phone and SLAPPED her across the face. So anyway, that’s what I got today. And I’ll keep putting the story out there. I’m almost settled into what my life is, this second. I get impatient, but I’m 39, and I don’t have anything. Sort of looking at myself like, really? Wow. A cluster of choices, and the past decade— did not help me at all.

That was a FAUX PAS on behalf of THAT psychedelic community. I came from “one of those,” hunny, and the NYTIMES would probably agree with me, “one of those…” so if someone doesn’t make sense, we might hold off. I can’t break myself down because it’s taken a few years. I started working in psychedelics, why? Dunno, I was open, you see, and I was moved to witness that they seemed to be helping people, right? I saw drug addicts who were getting clean… I heard people’s stories. In my case, generally, I became psychic.

Here we go.

I was saying I was adopted…

No one is going, “what do you mean?”

Finally, a woman said, “you won’t be in foster care families…”

I had to pause. No no no. But that’s what that means.

I was not an adopted kid. But I was told that I had “all the adopted kid stuff.”

It’s not that it wasn’t true, in a sense, that I wasn’t taken in, or that my second surrogate mother didn’t refer to me as “her like a kid,” Jesus, or that, my mother now doesn’t refer to me AS her daughter, it’s just… now, I’m not saying that. I’m not saying I was adopted. No, I got the basics worked out. My mother didn’t give me away, she paid a woman to protect me —

Look, I went through hell, for real, for years. I went through agony, dreams. I couldn’t always eat. I don’t know what to say. I just kept moving through… what I needed to privately, because…over time, I was hoping the situation would clarify itself. So I wandered the earth for a few years…and took a deep breath and just came back, I knew it was going to be a bit shaky, but I’m alright, not where I’d like to be in life, but hopefully things will turn around for me now.

But seriously, when I look back at that GURU, I am startled by his stupidity. He looks terrible. Absolutely self involved and grossly out of his element. And like GOD smiled upon me, literally speaking, when suddenly I was on my way to some TV production office in Istanbul…… where a man who worked in film randomly met me, he randomly heard my story, NOW, on the other side of my battle, and he said, simply, “I am affected, I am emotionally invested, so why not try it?” That’s it! No talk of, though everyone sort of does this to me, wisdom…

Think Heavenly Creatures.

Hopefully, that story hits on all the right notes, because it’s true, you sort of have to picture Amy Griffin in that dress, too, that’s Dr. J — the mastermind, though she was mostly in a suit, but it’s the same idea, as she was a real fashionista, opera. It was high pitched for sure. Dr. Joyce Rebhun. And I don’t know what to say about Angelica’s husband, even, as he worked so much, so I have no idea what to say… about these orchestrations. I know they happened, Nicole remembers them too. And then, Dr. J is running in like a lunatic in a white fur, fawning all over Nicole, as we were stationed in the living room…for her arias of ignoring me. She ignored me completely. “not one look,” Angelica Leibowitz said.

And I’m thinking, I believe she thought, is she rejecting her?

Does she hate her because…this is really happening?

Poor Nicole, she had to… deal with this woman.

What an utterly strange sex scandal, no? It’s a sex scandal, that’s for certain. I mean what I say. Then my mother shows up without a top on, or her blouse totally undone, no bra, nope. Angelica Leibowitz opened her DOOR, at the BH Tennis Club, to breasts. Wow. So there you go, little sneak preview.

If that turns out to be true, wow. By the end of this story, I was LOOKING at it like, was it? Or was he just mentally ill? Or did he have dementia? I don’t know. He got diagnosed when I around ten years old, he just didn’t tell anyone…….. his doctor told me ten years later.

I was so grossly disrespected. Grossly. And I say that AS my mother’s ESCORT BUSINESS MANAGER GHOMI— acting all smug about it. The man who saved her from the ashes… because she was a genius… a genius, how? Of taxes? Who is this guy? Well, according to him, he used to work for “the” government, and according to crazy bags, Dr. J, he was a secret agent. Simply. Care to explain? Secret agents exist. I know that. So does Tom Cruise. A man who PLAYS one. He gets there’s a difference. To me, it took 30 years, but he clearly had NEEDS? He clearly needed…someone with her skills? As he got her out of bankruptcy and her business back up again — whatever it was. WTF? Who is GHOMI? It was Nate’s questions, AKA Jon Stewart. He wanted to hire a PI, for real, in college. Let’s follow them. I said no, but I wish we did it, now. He’s going to tell me, “I told you.”

FAT ALAN, one of my mother’s lovers, I interviewed him, I was ten, he showed me a pyramid scheme on a napkin, so did my mother help him with this? What exactly did she do? The articles, yes, they are clear, she’s expensive, skilled, helping people out of financial ruin…? My father said the majority of her clientele were criminals, but what does that mean? Dunno. Funny when you wake up to facts such as these.

I feel realer and realer as a person, that makes me feel clearer, as — well, there was a mental health component to coming into the public domain. Bringing all that up. It sounds different, it appears different, that’s all. Fat Alan.

Anyway, my investigation continues at the Beverly Hills Tennis Club.

Were they wealthy? Not wealthy? Not the wealthiest? Was I in a ring? I do not have the answers to these questions. But a COP in NY told me outside a 7-11 years ago that I wouldn’t even believe how real child sex rings are. I’m sorry? Is that not unbelievable? WHY is this happening? But it definitely inspires lots of thoughts, questions, which isn’t that fun. Just as long as — it’s what I think it is, like, my mother paid HER, right? to protect me from him? I question it myself, and then I anchor myself back in, oh right, she came over to visit like a lunatic, a true lunatic, and my father acted………strangely……I guess she figured, I was safe, and what’s a little song and dance? A little song and dance for this son of a bitch?

There’s something satisfying about it, just getting back at this person, and Dr. J inspired the same vitriol. You wanted to hurt her. She might have wanted… it, sort of, hard to tell, as that was a seriously sick person. And you see, I am not afraid of her, her little friend, Ghomi, not at all. I’ve got Neapolitans behind me, you see, smiling. And if we must, we’ll get the bats, and we’ll destroy the property that we must. It’s true, though! Haha. No way. Not possible.

So I’m done for the day, I have to keep working.

Freaking out because my urine is red

Photo by Melissa LeGette on Unsplash

LOOK — I finally exploded at NATE — who recently lost his father, and he just holds a place for me that’s beyond some stupid concept of a relationship that I absorbed from someone we both know — an old professor with PROBLEMS.

I said I didn’t want to see him. “Why?”

I told him I have no idea what that was, I have no money, and I have to get some tests run physically because my doctor said, well, if you experienced sensations in that area of in your body, we should do an ultra sound, and no one ASKED me or HEARD that I was going through something physical. And I’m talking to a sexual trauma specialist who said, “well, could have been true about your father…” or… just true, so being shut down when I’m trying to basically communicate has been heartbreaking and terrible.

He doesn’t want to shut me down.

I’m telling you mental health is an OOMPLA LOOMPA routine. “OOMPA LOOMPA DO BEE DEE DO…” a dance I’d do, as a short person, around a very tall Barack Obama, “oompla loompa…” so I’m scared. I got shut down, ignored, and I just can’t handle it. So, we’re going to meet next week, and we’re going to talk.

Catch up. It’s not that I want to dominate the conversation, I just struggle with the the realizations I came to, the clarity I feel, and the questions I have, all the while, I don’t know, contending with a lifetime of decisions I made that were… a bit stupid.

I ate beets yesterday. I don’t think I ever experienced my urine being affected, so I’m just drinking a water bottle and anticipating that it will clear. I didn’t eat much yesterday, and I thought, yeah beets. I flipped out.

It’s more the frustration I have about how little evaluation actually happens with someone who ends up in the mental hospital. President Barack Obama would back me up. And the sheer anger I have at the idiots gurus and the people around me, due to not fault of their own, because it’s a systemic flaw, who didn’t go —

“Should you go see a doctor?” Just to make sure you’re physically okay? My physician said, “why did these people send you to a BODY WORKER?”

No one asked a question, what are you going through exactly? No? I wish I ended up in a regular hospital, next door. So you’re experiencing sensations in your guts, your… okay? Let’s run tests. OR, if there was ANY communication between the field of medicine, we might have a beter, more comprehension picture of the human body. I’m frustrated today.

“Why didn’t they do an ultrasound?” My doctor said, “I mean if you’re experiencing sensations down there?” But no one asks about the body in that hospital. Okay, sure, I came from a shitshow, but WHY people act like they KNOW what mental health is? Like then I have to deal with this GUY talking to me about what HE FEELS a psychosis is. And on that note, who CARES if I went through a psychosis? I have to read, now, that you might have swirling sensations? Why isn’t anyone asking questions in the hospital?

I don’t know what to say because my relationship with this Hollywood guru was a JOKE, telling me that a fictional character is a really good psychological device? I complained about pain, and he’s making up stories about my PAIN? PAST?

I started going through some experiences I can’t explain, so I don’t know what to say, in that area of my body. And no offense, but the CRAP I learned, as I’m a product of where I’m from, I’m not going, to the most BASIC conclusion: if things are happening physically, go to a doctor.

This guru is going to tell me — you’re doing it? You have the power to self-heal? I’m not in disagreement, per se, but his whole philosophy was toxic for someone like me. And where’s the psychedelic people? My physician was like, I mean, maybe you had an adverse experience? Though it had been years.

“I think you’re going to go through experiences,” this idiot guru said to me. Because he’s indirectly suggesting that I was repressed! This man who has literally no credentials, he’s one of these traveling magicians from the Middle Ages showing up in town with some clown, spouting wisdom and thoughts.

What a mess that was. And then, in the end, I asked these slytherins for my money back, and I got some random message through my website at 5 AM about my bank being shut down. The GURUS of Hollywood are SUGGESTING that I “called this in” to “deliver the final blow to myself,” MEANING?

Meanwhile, the psychedelic crew acts ALL WEIRD around. this message, I received that physically in my my guts, okay? With this HYPNOTHERAPIST asking me to describe it’s texture, my physician just wants to do an ultrasound. I received that message physically in my guts, I can’t explain that. Then I had this weird hip ghost pain, like, what the hell is this?

I feel so stupid, to be frank, generally, like, it’s like people in the US calling Obama Care unconstitutional — to a scholar of Constitutional LAW — because it forces them to see a doctor. “Don’t you want to?” If people went to their doctors regularly, they would be able to avoid most problems.

So now I got weird gut stuff. Sometimes.

I’m just chugging this water. I’m not in pain exactly, but I sometimes have discomfort, which I don’t know what it’s related to, and I’m not acting like I do, actually, so I’m just so angry at the lack of the human body or the talk of years of abuse of Amy Griffin including a graphic sound of this man’s BELT BUCKLE on a fucking floor — being called symbolic. SORRY.

I would rather not have anything be wrong, but everyone was a goddamn clown show. Okay? OOMPA LOOMPA DO BEE DEE DO, with friends acting like I’m brave? Because I had a medical emergency? This was the vaguest, strangest thing I have ever gone through.

“I admire your fortitude?”

How about, what the hell even happened? Do you need to see a doctor? Do you need someone to accompany you to the doctor? I mean, even in the case of mental health, in my case, you think there isn’t a body attached? Sensation? Absurd.

This stupid GURU telling me based on NOTHING, NOTHING REAL — just his superior psychic senses… that I went through a therapeutic event. I could kill this man. He was a psychopath. So please, please, just be the beets. I can’t even afford to run tests yet, not really. Not unless I take more money out of dwindling savings account, I’m telling you.

He and his brother — should be kept away.

Like I needed a guru. He was a lunatic.

Like I said, please, clear. I want to knock on wood, thank God for my health, and reach for optimal health.

NOTE: if someone gets out of ANY hospital, PLEASE, don’t act like you know.

What a headfuck that was.

And I’ll most definitely continue talking about my experiences.

I would probably be experiencing pain, I imagine, if there was… something other than the beets, but still, just in case, I’m going to run a bunch of tests with my doctor, to make sure I’m alright.

That guru was one weird guy. That was a weirdo.

Imagine, like over an I TANYA DVD, that my roommate lost — he’s wondering superiorly what the FEELING IS, as he called it a psychological set up to disappoint him, is a DVD that big of a deal???? Then I’m seeking to apologize, express my FEELINGS that I am indeed in touch with, idiot, to get some dramatic response:

“You cannot disappoint me you have my LOVE…”

Am I on Planet Earth?

THEN, I gotta PUT IT TOGETHER MYSELF WHAT THIS MAN MEANS…

That “disappointment is the base feeling with my father?” And why this conversation is even happening, I don’t know! And so he’s role playing and confessing his LOVE? What kind of FREAK was this maan? He deserves a real slap across the face, this Hollywood guru. No wonder the Obamas — aren’t fans of their daughter going into that world— WTF? And I wasn’t even really seeking to get into that WORLD!

I was writing a fucking book about my childhood — these crazy years on Miracle Mile that were — something OBAMA would shun, making speeches about the spectacle of all this, like enough. My question for my mother and her little henchman, GHOMI? A secret spy? Or, at least, a man who used to work for the government? My QUESTION is valid:

Was that true bitch?

Was I abused, lady?

Hearing some bullshit from Angelica that we “had fun.”

Yeah no.

Here I go, drinking water, not looking until tomorrow morning. Please. Only NATE thus far has acted like a real person. From Long Island, used to have a chin strap, and now has a Tony Award nom. NEXT?

I don’t want to be dramatic, I wish I didn’t eat the beets.

Then the friend who wants to assassinate a politician — right? He knew how he’d do it too — looney tunes. I bought a shirt, totally confused as to what was happening, one I knew he’d hate, and why did this man CARE that much? “What would you get rid of?” In a large closet, too. “This,” the one. And I got up out of my chair. “Well that stays.” “Is this your boundary thing?”

AND he’s playing characters in some imaginary movie before I can finish a book. I’m not SEEING A SCREENWRITER AS THE TICKET… he’s just someone who’s READING as a writer. AND he’s my decorator though he’ll shoot himself in the head — he said, if he keeps…doing it… and he’s my manager, this comment.

This decade was horrific.

I think what astounded me? I was visibly scared, like when my friend broke up with his boyfriend, as that was THE ONLY REASON he said, for real, that he wasn’t GOING THROUGH WITH HIS ASASSINATION PLOT WAS: his cushy life AKA his BOYFRIEND. DDO people speak FOR SHITS? About MURDER? DR. J — it smells of DR. J. And I’m WORRIED, talking to our mutual friend, and she’s LA LA LA making PIES on her forty birthday… he was — what? Going through a DARK TIME? YEAH, not the TIME to move in with this person…

To get CLOSER.

That’s the time to MOVE AWAY…

What the hell was I doing?

Okay?

Assasination plots.

“Yeah sure,” keep talking, right? Because if I gotta, hunny, I’m calling the FEDS. And the thing is? He was even in religious school, imagine? Spiritualist, reinvented. It was practically a profile. Luckily, yeah, the FEDS know: drugs, dark times, they don’t RESPOND to most threats. They get threats all the time.

But of course we live in the AGE of the DIGITAL CAMERA where you can erase…everything and anything you say…. isn’t that right, Dr. J? A woman with stunningly clear blue eyes like the sky, as if she came from there: JOY. “THIS IS YOURS,” she’s putting up a PALM, “THIS IS MINE. MINE MINE MINE.”

“YOURS.”

“MINE.”

“NO connection.”

WEEEE, then she’s changing her tune, “this is OURS. A mean man…” She senses a mean man… in the parages.

Nothing is real and everything is spiritual, you heard it here, from Dr. J’s daughter.

Who was SO unfortunate she went to MARYMOUNT HIGH SCHOOL in BEL AIR. I wasn’t RICH, sure, I just missed the cut off for financial aid, but JESUS, these GURUS in BEL AIR — but more so the ONE, as his brother would back me up, sorry, what the hell was this relationship?!

This guy was insane.

I’m looking across the fabric of my life — my family in particular going: WHAT IS HAPPENING? I had to rely on former President Barack Obama, spiritually! To get through this! I needed a celebrity, that I knew, but I was shooting for the real deal — the one Putin knows. Goldie Hawn.

Kidding.

But I did, I thought about what Barack Obama would say about — the entire situation. The guru, my mother, my father, what my psychological journey was. My fear about the beets, lol. I needed REASSURANCE. Someone who was going to go, yeah, “had a hard time at the mental hospital?” I mean, someone with my profile.

Someone who’s still struggling, though it gets better, because I simply don’t know what I went through in my body. And the REFORM necessary isn’t exactly revolutionary, it’s basic. It’s true, William James says, “a hallucination is a strictly sensational form of consciousness?” That’s interesting.

It’s like, repressed trauma — trauma defined as disconnection from self, whatever THAT means, versus psychosis a disconnection from REALITY, whatever that means, and Icould have connected to the UNREALITY of what actually happened? Who knows, can’t keep up.

So I propose we hold a meeting BETWEEN doctors. I feel shit in my guts right now, but the brain is connected to everything, so I don’t know, you see. Look, if someone says, “their mother gave them away to a stranger because she lied about him being a child molester, please…” don’t give that person drugs.

That is all. I’m posting on social media.

Another night of waiting for the C, gotta keep moving

I’m not sure that we can telepathically communicate. Waiting for the C, I’m alright as long as the guru doesn’t come to mind, this relationship I got into this past decade that I just did not need. I didn’t need the whole decade.

I work 5 nights a week right now, and I have to wake up at 5:30 am tomorrow to work my weekend writing job. I’m used to it, my roommate got us new nespresso packets, so I’m set. I make no money for how much I work.

There’s nothing I can do, I’m starting from scratch, so. I keep telling myself I can move fast. I can move as fast as I can. Not having money at 40 feels rough especially because I had some. But luckily the guru’s voice is gone, I’m back to where I was before I met this guy who brought me nothing but more problems.

“It doesn’t matter how much the rent is.”

I guess he came from an extremely wealthy family. But it was more so the dark side of meditation talking — like I could manifest the money into existence. That’s fine, but it was more…the idea that money wasn’t real to him, like I didn’t need to deplete my resources. Ever met all the wrong people at the same time?

Walking down the stairs of this restaurant I work at, I’m looking for other work, because I can’t even go out and meet people right now, as I work nights. But for the moment that’s alright, I’m alright. I feel better overall. I think miracle mile is going well, this piece for EPIC I’m writing. It’s just, honestly, I really don’t need the added complications of needing to spin up a future reality that I’m supposed to locate in meditations so I can download the information… necessary to make the probable reality in which I’m accepted by that publication a real reality — isn’t that amazing? That guru was really out there, he was really the last thing I needed.

I keep telling myself, look, I got here, it took my life thus far, actually, to get here basically speaking, so I have to remind myself that there’s no way I could have done what I’m doing now back then — even singing again. I don’t know what to do. I hate waiting tables. I truly do. I really like who I work for, that’s not the problem, it’s just the another job will eventually present itself, sure, though I’m mostly trying to think proactively: what can I do to make money?

I have to get out of restaurants. I needed a job, so being here a moment is alright, but I need to go out at night. I need to meet people. I wish I met that person, who told me that ten years ago: you gotta put yourself out there — not spend your time meditating. I only go down these roads when I’m tired. I have to wake up soon. I’m home now. So I have to find a day job, fast. That’s my next goal. I need my nights free. It’s fine as a short-term solution to my basic problem, but I need to move out…

Okay that’s next. If I were to work a couple of nights a week to make extra cash, that would be one thing. I told them I was looking for a day job, so they know it’s coming, at least, but now I really have to think— who can I call? What can I do?

It’s funny because this guru said family was my life idea — I didn’t want to write about family. It wasn’t my life idea, ugh, this guy, I was in a situation, it’s a whole thing, I’ve been trying to work OUT of that for my life… just the worst. He truly was the worst masquerading as — a superior being. He wasn’t always that way, I have to think about it, but mostly, yeah. He acted as if he were a guru.

So — day job. That’s my assignment. Get out of restaurants.

I had a dream

So I posted a stupid video on social media yesterday, and who cares? I’m trying to let go of my issues with it, and I was listening to Enya, which made me laugh, for Miracle Mile. And so, I thought, I was started taking videos of my walk just to amuse myself. And so I thought, let me follow through and take a photo. But my friends, or some of them in my head are terrible judgers, they’re judgmental. I created distance from them, or I don’t even talk to them anymore, but this judgmental vibe still affects me. What will people think? If I create something stupid, even, does it fucking matter? I’m trying not to overthink. I just don’t care — my world was ripped to shreds. I can’t help how old I am, even, and that I had to start over. Even as a f you to the stupid guru, with this perspective that I’m not supposed to “give a shit about” like what’s wrong with having a sense of humor? That man had none. What’s wrong with liking to laugh? Okay? So I don’t care. I just do not care anymore.

I had a dream though, and I had to have a conversation with self — “like no.” I’m not interested in these types of dreams. I don’t even care to interpret my dreams anymore, like, it’s just a dream. I’ve had different types of dreams, too, to bring up a bit of the mystery of my IMPOSSIBLE NOT TO SEE PSYCHICNESS, as I turn underneath trees to Enya. So in this dream, it was a marriage between two tribes, type deal, my wedding day, but Pedro Pescal and Leonardo di Caprio were in it, randomly, and it was turning into a war. (Over a social media post?) So there were killing and bloodshed. A bit of that vibe. I woke up like, okay, look, whatever this thought seed is, it must be gone. I do not want to have this dream. And there was another me lying beside me, and she reached for me, vouching for this dream. “Yeah no.” So that was that. The answer is no. I don’t want to be in conflict with who I am going to bed with. Meaning myself. But it doesn’t have to be complicated. Where one side is killing itself because it doesn’t want to be involved with the other. Am I at odds with myself? I don’t know why. I sort of wish I wasn’t friends with anyone.

When I started posting videos of me in Naples, I got out of the hospital, I don’t know if that was the best time, I hate the guru, thoroughly, just because, that was a toxic relationship for me, but still, some of my friends had problems with it. Like, I just felt I got bullshit on top of being in the hospital, with my friend telling me that my friends got together and talked about my social media use behind my back? Imagine? As if Brad Pitt and I are the centaurs to Enya “May it Be,” the last two people on Earth to not be on social media, and my arrival was “so strange.” Like, who cares? I sort of hate it, because the public has such a contentious relationship with it. It’s annoying as fuck, as someone who just — does not care. I don’t CARE about social media. YOU DO. You know what I mean? What the fuck do I care if you use it as a platform or not? I’m not at odds with “what’s real,” okay? I know what’s real.

I just feel like I have to expel the negativity I absorbed, because it’s a public platform. And I’m trying to figure out what to do with my content, since my life got blown to pieces, and I have no idea what’s next in my life, but I’m starting over from scratch. Hate that guru so much, like what a waste of my time with this STUPID guru randomly saying cryptically bland and useless things about “the book,” thoughts that came to him in the middle of the night. His middle of the night… he was so creepy. I’m sorry I ever got involved with that guy — because I had to trash this guy. Into the bin. That was a head-fuck, the worst version of ZELDA I have ever seen.

Anyway, I do not want to have a internal battle over a stupid video. You know what I mean? I took a walk, it made me laugh, and again, I have to expulse these couple of people I knew who were so judgmental as they come to my head… in these moments… like, no offense, but what makes you so superior? I don’t even give a shit what I look like. I’m trying to let all that go. You see, I don’t know what to say, because I went through such terrible terrible dreams over the past few years, remembering the GURU in a darkened house — go away — here’s a tip: don’t write all over someone because you believe you have superior feeling senses. Please. And if you are NOT qualified, don’t ACT like you are. I told myself, waking up from this violent dream, marriage day, “no no no.” It’s gotta stop. I don’t know how and why i got involved with people who are obsessed with being “cool,” or have any problems with me being me. I didn’t put myself out there when I had super nice clothes, or when I was “enchanted” whatever this was. But I’ll keep figuring this stupid platform out, and i hope it helps me in some capacity. I just, at times, can’t stand that this story cost me everything. Sometimes I wish I never became an artist, you see, like this brought me too many issues. People with issues. Like WOW. Wanting to be a writer brought me the strangest men, and like, now I have no idea what to do.

I wish I never went there. So I hope it will bring me something of value as I had to trash the last decade. I don’t know what else to do for the moment, as I have to settle a score with myself, whether or not I wanted to be a performer, and whether the sex scandal is worth it at all. I hate that story. It brought me nothing but problems, so hopefully I’ll be able to channel that into acompelling piece of art and reject it — for life. Everyone responds differently to whatever’s happened to them. Me? That insane scandal that turned me into a goddamn Cinderella — like I needed that shit — it’s a fuck you to Enya. As I “gather the children,” the invisible children in the foyer, “let it be,” with Jose Leibowitz sort of taking a knee, suggesting it, but he’s really just stretching… in sports gear and a gold chain. That story brought me NOTHING but problems, nothing. Weird attachments. The guru. Ugh. The end of my life. “You’re SO SPECIAL” and YET he did not LIKE ME. WHAT made me special, asshole? Look, Brad Pitt looking fine in good sunglasses behind me in Beverly Hills — so annoyed, he’s going to back ME UP in my Zoolander version of all this, fuck Billy Zane, I’m laughing, I’m telling you, that obsession with manifesting, why did I meet this — to Lord of the Rings — PERSON as if I had to go through the DARK SIDE of it to bring balance back to the realm. Brad Pitt, hilariously, a true psychic in my opinion, I’m pretty sure, that’s what my “FEELING” in the guru’s words TELL ME, he randomly appeared in my apocalypse dream in a tuxe. He kicked open a door, as I was hiding with a baby, “what are you doing here?” He got me out.

I don’t know what to say, because I can’t look back on this moment yet, if there’s something to say about — the thrill of feeling like you’re on the right track, whatever that means, or that you feel like you’re going after what you truly desire, and not knowing at all, actually, if it’s going to work out at all. But you do it anyway. I gotta get to work, 6:30 AM. I do not want to be at odds, nor do I want to care about funny little videos I post, you know what I mean? Was there something wrong with being a bit of a comedic person? I came from a farce. I don’t know if I was supposed to WALLOW dude, guru. Wanting to flick this mother fucker away like a cig he can’t stop smoking 24/7. An addict. I bet you, Brad Pitt, he knows who he is. He doesn’t NEED to consult anyone. He’s psychic and he knows… so anyway, I’ll be just fine, and I’m not really that concerned about anything right now, just putting myself out there has taken my entire life. That’s it for now. I didn’t need all these complexes, like I wish I never went to NYU. I wish I never got involved — some of my friends are fine, it’s just this inner critic I still am trying to shake of — like what’s CHIC to wear, all this shit. I don’t know why I feel like I absorbed so much, I don’t know.

“Looks like your having fun,” this ex friend of mine said, with a tone, like YEAH, I am. Got a PROBLEM? On a social media account? That has like 700 followers? I unfriended a bunch of people, basically everyone who talked about me AT ALL negatively. Stay away. Again, social media isn’t my problem, though I sort of hate it, it’s everyone’s attitude towards it, and it’s so tired and classic — it’s ridiculous. Why social media has become “the place where people emotionally put themselves out there” I do not know. I’m just trying to get over that stupid part. It’s just, there’s no one there. You’re not really talking to anyone. So it’s a bit of a head fuck.

Gotta go.

I’m trying to get over the future shit, the future-minded crap, mostly. I’m trying to visualize where I’d like to end up, but that future-obsessive thinking really, is hard to shake. I’m sorry I went anywhere near that guru that Brad Pitt knows, lol, I have to laugh. Maybe he doesn’t I don’t know. I’ll keep moving forward. I am. I just want something to work out. Jo called my ex, that’s my friend, she can’t even deal with him, or that I got involved with that psychedelic group. JUST PLEASE. I look back and I think, I’m sorry????????? Why am I doing this????? Anyhoo, good morning. Dawn. The sun rises, also.

This I appreciated

Word. I felt that on my feed today. I just like, hope this time that’s not what I’m doing, that’s not what I want to do. I didn’t need manifestation advice, exactly. So now I’m just trying to recover, and I hope that everything works out, because I have no idea. You know? Like, I hope this article does well, I hope — OR KNOW — to up my chances with mindset techniques — that I’ll sell a book. I hope that Miracle Mile becomes a sensation — because now, I have nothing, I was striped of ANY practical, logical, concrete direction. And I didn’t even ASK for help. But these men treated me like I needed help. I just didn’t understand WHY. Now I’m a bitch, it’s handled, as if — fuck off. That’s what Angela said I needed to learn how to say: VAI FANCULO. I got that I went through pretty years.

Anyway, I was listening to Enya nonstop today as I’m using her in Miracle Mile as we had to put on these forced displays of playing for my father, who she believed was a child molester, and he acted pretty bizarrely, guilty, standing at a wide open door. I don’t know what to do with that as he also had an illness that kept to himself. He would be diagnosed six years later though. But because it was already a theatrical conceit — “the house is yours,” Angelica Leibowitz instructed her youngest daughter and I to GO NUTS through the house—I have the license to invent. And so, I thought, make the spectacles bigger, better, more choreographed. In this case, from what I learned, though the whole story was scored to love songs, I should go for Enya to make a larger point beyond love, love love. And, yes, have her say, “love love love,” over this gorgeous cascading angelic number — “ah ah ah, if you really want to,” Jose Leibowitz is the mastermind of these soirees, the true star, engineer. “You can seize the day… ” Only If, that’s where I landed today. “if you really want to…you can find a way…” so that made me laugh. Just because people’s responses are so — odd, strange, and the journey I had, personally, to get here was — terrible, the past decade, especially, but it was — filled with psychics, gurus, and geniuses — if you really want to — claiming I was psychic, this was my problem. “Very very likely, Alice Munro was molested if only because it is so common…” ah ah ah, Enya: if you really want to…we can seize the day… we turn our hands as if wheels, stepping forward from the side, and we let it all go, sexy, moving back as if in a music video, as these Brazilian-Jewish children were born to DANCE. “Hey ho hey hai ehhhh….”

And Angelica Leibowitz is the most talented and sexiest of them all — and we’ll do a final battle dance — grand finale — with her getting so down and dirty, as the lambada was a dance born from oppression, it was so profound — in the living room, all of us dancing, having celebrated Jewish holidays too. So — was my story unbelievable? “ONLY IF YOU WANT TO!” We’re stomping. Hitting our thighs. Doing some tribal inspired dance, Jose Leibowitz leading the way. Impossible! And we’re cascading off to different locations against the wall of the foyer. We’re reading the walls like brail as if there were some secret language written that we could not access with our eyes. And stacking papers, Jose resumes normal life. In some senses, you’d hope that some message might impact the subject, because if it’s really that common, if child molestation is really that common, then you gotta address that in some capacity, I don’t know. I don’t know if I needed this to be my life, type deal, because writing a story about that AND getting into a psychedelic group left me totally bamboozled. The guru’s obsession with me being able to MAKE IT over that story, or me being able to MAKE it as A WRITER — only if you want to — before I even tried, meaning I didn’t have a problem with the idea— interestingly enough, or I suppose he represented the problem, so I’m trying to have to fun, despite my age. I went to meet total strangers so I purposefully made myself look as unattractive as possible. You never know. My friend was even scared. But yup, impossible, my story. If you really WANT TO… when danger lurks around every corner. So I went totally dressed down, even overboard. I’m basically a man…

In any case, that’s what I got this evening, wanting so badly to find my love of life… my sense of purpose, I mean, I wish I was surrounded by childrem, that I was in a house, which I could have had — regardless of the aspirations to BECOME A SUCCESSFUL WRITER to this guru. Terrible, all the wrong doors — just a succession of them this past decade. There might not be “right or wrong” except I really feel like I went through the wrong doors. Like, I met this high powered lawyer, who basically made a pass after having lunch with me, but I bet you anything, he’d feel so strange that no one in the psychedelic group informed him… of where I came from? Just because that was not your typical story, and I’m sure he would have never have approached me like he did, if he knew, but it goes to show — you don’t KNOW. But remember, “only if you want to,” everyone is getting molested… throwing pizza dough in the air… the Downtown Abbey washing the thick white linens — children running free… that’s my two cents this evening. “You should go on social media and diffuse your story…” the guru said… sure, about a sex scandal.

I hope it’s not the case with me, but typically, people don’t respond that well to that story, you know, but we’ll see. I’m giving it my best go, because I came this far, I don’t know if I needed to spin myself up with visions of the future, though, though I do have a clearer sense of where I’d like to go — but I’m karate hands around… men that I wouldn’t even have to deal with now, which hurts my feelings. I’m older now. I don’t give a shit about my looks. Was I supposed to? I’ll keep sprucing myself up, but I had to start over from nothing. Sure, money fall from the sky… you know? Man, that hurt, the loss when it was unnecessary. But that’s alright, I’ve surrendered to the course… and I don’t want to move abroad, I don’t want to not try and see if I can perform, something. I’m just so exhausted. That was a lot of MALE energy for no reason, I don’t know. Anyway, good night — remember you have only one life. It’s a gift. Be careful and mindful WHO you spend it with.

A couple hit on me last night, the Hollywood guru returns

And here we go again. I got off work, and I decided that I was going to stay a minute and write in that atmosphere, have a drink, when a man started talking to me, a lawyer. I thought, you know, I should probably socialize, actually, so I welcomed the invitation. He was with a woman my age, also a lawyer, and I didn’t even know that they were together until we were well into conversation. They offered to buy me another drink, we swapped travel stories, and he, the man, started feeding us both, which I thought, “okay, that’s strange, but you know…” when you go out, sometimes, you’re all friends. Except that isn’t really a friend move. I had to go home, as I didn’t really want to get roped into a night out, I worked for like hours. But still, I was trying to let go, meet people, but they were interested in making out? Wait what? They walked me out, as I wanted to leave, and I was a little drunk, so I didn’t really understand what was going on — but I saw my bosses outside, so I was walking away, where we wouldn’t be seen. So she kissed me… and then he kissed me…and I hightailed it for the Uber they called me. In the car, how did that happen?

I don’t know what to say. I’m going to pretend that didn’t happen. They texted me, but I’m just going to ignore them. If they text me, I’ll say, “look, nice to meet you, but I don’t need flirtations at my job…” I was just looking to be friendly, not to make out, but they seemed cool, actually, so I don’t have a problem, I just would prefer if it didn’t go any further. I don’t want to alert anyone at work. I’m sure it happens, but I just started, and I’m not interested in that kind of affair. I don’t even care anymore, about whether or not there was any respect in it, they’re just looking to have fun, I’m just not “their girl.” That’s not happening.

So there you go.

I tried to just sit there after work, and I get involved with an open couple looking to make out with girls… I do not know why I was that person. I wasn’t thinking, so maybe I didn’t read this situation correctly, but I need to go out, more, that I know, I’m just working nights right now, so I have no idea what to do, where to go, but I’ll see Matra again soon, and we’ll start up our going out again. I need to socialize. Who cares about meditating? In remembering the guru… suggesting throwing an invisible ball against “the fabric of reality,” which is fine, but there’s a way to get a more direct feedback loop, and it’s GOING OUT and GETTING what you want.

Why I didn’t do this in the past? Well, I suppose I had a lot to work out. That’s fair. I didn’t realize how much my past hindered my ability to do what I’m starting to do now, like, who cares? A couple wanted to make out, that’s just a funny story… that happened when you went out. This guy, too, he cracked up, “oh no, are you a lawyer?” Only because they’re always working too, and I don’t know, sometimes, I wish I never became a writer — it only brought me weird MEN. Weird older men. You’d never think, it’s practically a comedy, that BEING A WRITER would be so cryptic and serious. I am not a celebrity, it’s hard to explain. I could MAKE ITTTTT.

And, I hope I do, I just don’t know why I needed manifestation advice? Before I even started. It’s just this guru, he made me so angry, because he was such a DICK, a guy, thinking he would barge in and wave his dick around for my benefit. I just didn’t see it, which was TERRIFYING. Like, GROSS. He thought this was RESPECT? But does he respect woman? Does he have problems with women? That’s what I saw, even BEAUTIFUL WOMEN? In my life, honestly, I wish people didn’t say, “you’re beautiful,” I wish they said, “no you don’t understand, you’re going to want to be beautiful, to someone, hunny, and if you don’t think so, or if you have a problem in this regard, you might attract people who HAVE PROBLEMS with beauty.”

It was one of these, “I don’t know” problems. It was a choice, which is why I took on Barbara Harris’ profile. It’s always a choice. And, in all honesty, I didn’t want to project that story out into the world. I didn’t want to acknowledge the existence of the world, meaning, there are gender issues there, as that guy, guru, didn’t like beautiful women, he had problems. Major. I didn’t want to SEE that people could… act selfishly, I’m saying “I can’t believe he did that,” when men rape women. Do they even KNOW that they did anything wrong? Weinstein? No. My mother even — she doesn’t think she did anything wrong. My father, too.

Now, if the slytherin, even, as I got involved with a drug addict, even if he did live at the Carlyle— at this point, the SECOND someone comes up to me, I’m on guard. This is the new way of being. I was caught off guard last night, which happens when you go out, no worries, as I feel like I just got here, lol. But I think, generally, people are more on guard. I just need to go out and socialize more, so I don’t get — I had, I had a bit of a problem, or unconscious problem, where, if someone showed me attention, it could surprise me. I need to work on being at the top of the food chain.

But I still feel hurt, right? So I’ll keep moving. I’m basically doing, with myself, what I wish a psychologist did for me. “It’s time to GO into the world,” not the literal world of travel, but “go out, get hit on, and lt’s deal with it…” you know? So you’re a server right now, because you can’t quite navigate. So? It’s hard, because I can’t believe I’m here, and I try not to go on social media at all, other than posting, but soon, I’ll probably rehire a community person, as I had when I went to Naples, to comment, and friend people, and engage online. I just can’t do it. Just to help me build. It worked. It works.

I just wish I had gone to therapy, right? I mean, forget therapy. I wish I went to a psychologist, someone who agrees with me, that this is a structural exercise. Forget knocking down someone’s world, which is what the guru did as a destroyer. That man was a destroyer. WHY are you living like this? WHY are you hanging out with these people? WHO the fuck is this guy? THINK Maria. Ask him, WHY are you here? "What did he say?” Who the fuck are these men looking to help you? Jesus, this is so the opposite of help. Put on a short skirt and GO to a CLUB. Try that.

That would be ME, the psychologist. In some senses, why be a writer? You know? Because you want fame? I mean, these men, they reflected that, like, I could be famous, but as a writer? What a strange couple of people to meet. Like the slytherin said, “I supported your talent,” what talent? He read like one thing, and no offense, but I wouldn’t say, in reading what I wrote for Reality Sandwich, it’s like, looking back at this guy, too, it was ALL bullshit. All. Nothing but belittling… bullshit.

Now, I wouldn’t even be there. Be real. I’d see the slytherin from far away. Sure, I might go and hang out with him, suggest we get a tea downstairs, at the Carlyle, but I’m not getting close. “Do not call me every day…” it’s a bit too fast. Like jumping into bed with someone. He LIKED me, I just don’t know what that means in his case. Same with the guru. It wasn’t that flattering. Those were not people, men, to get involved with. Even the Korean Revolutionary, I call him, my ex, like, that wasn’t a guy to get involved with… so the whole set up… was off. It sucked for me.

So i’m giving in, I’m trying to reorganize my life so I can put myself first, but I’m going to have to rebuild step by step — meaning, I take a shower, I get ready, I get nice sweats, because that’s what I like to wear in the mornings, I do my make up… I need to prioritize my basics, but I got up this morning, with a headache, and with all these thoughts I’m processing, so I’m in bed, writing this note.

What exactly was wrong with me? Yes, I could be a movie star, essentially, I got that, as a writer. Hilarious. This couple said that they met a writer for Dexter at this bar the other week, and I said, “yeah I’m not that cool.” But, Macao is in Tribeca, so it might be a good place to go, actually, but I work there right now. Maybe that doesn’t matter, I don’t know, but I need to refresh my appearance.

I just thought, oh, they’re a very social couple, or social couple of people, who were really friendly, but I needed some recreation, socializing, and then, that went in a direction I didn’t expect. But whatever, I don’t care that much. I wanted to have better adventures, as I sort of feel like I’m seventeen again, and I’m starting over, so — that happened. A funny thing happened after work. I would say, that I’m a stud or something, but I didn’t get the vibe that they were that selective. It just made me laugh, “girls don’t count,” he said, and I’m not even gay or queer or that fluid, but I had to laugh at that. I think they do. I just put myself in the shoes of someone who was gay, and hearing this man say that they “don’t count.” Kissing girls doesn’t count as real. It’s a fun extra he can partake in. I thought they were joking, to be honest, at first, walking out with them like, hm, are you serious?

So I’m in bed this morning hurting a little, hoping I won’t throw up – from the alcohol. I got a boozy drink, a good one, but it’s not the type of cocktail you can drink many of.

I really don’t want to be a server, but what am I supposed to do, at this point? I like Macao though, I like that restaurant, they’ve given me the best shifts, so I can’t complain. As I keep telling myself, I can move fast, I can’t help where I am in the immediate. I don’t know what jobs I can even get. I might want to get on Fiver, Upwork, but I sort of hate writing, so I’m trying to assess where to go next. It’s hard to explain, because sure, money can fall from the sky, you can bump into anybody. Anything can happen. But generally speaking, there’s an annoying debut, where you don’t know what the fuck is going on. That’s what entering the world is like. Again, I don’t know if I needed ethereal talk. There’s only one way you’re going to build a life, right, and that’s by doing it. But here are some benchmarks: buying a house.

Like um, sure, it’s not FAME, as these men were somewhat obsessed with, over a WRITER, like I want to meet this Dexter screenwriter and tell him what happened to me. Can you imagine? But there are basics, regardless of what you do. And I couldn’t believe what idiots I got involved with. I could have bought a house, if I hadn’t touched that money at all. Instead I gave it to the plant people? For nothing. To get farted on by the slytherin in the end. And I came from a sex scandal. You see, the more I write, the clearer — sure I visualize it in the world —that becomes. No one is going to tell me, “no, you weren’t in a sex scandal…” so I’m confident on that one. And they totally missed it. They enabled me… I’m sorry but that was ridiculous.

I really really really did not need to go down that road, the GURU, the Hollywood guru I got involved with, like, looking back, I’m so floored at myself. Why this guy was looking at my Facebook comments, or telling me “my suitors” visited him during meditations… it was bizarre and unnecessary. He made so many assumptions about me that were really wrong. He wanted to play guru— what? — what a strange desire! He thinks because he meditates and that his father was a psychologist who couldn’t keep it in his pants — obviously — that he was God’s gift to ME?

I really wish he had a heart, he doesn’t have one, it’s obvious. He’s a cold man. He’s not exactly warm. That was a weird guy. Weird rich guy, he had some success in Hollywood. But why, some girl, I mean, why would you treat someone like that, like, what his involvement in my life only disturbed me. He acted as if he thought I was Julianne Moore, but I wasn’t an actress, and he’s deciding that without reading anything, and I didn’t ASK him to, you see, HE did that, I did not ASK him to. “I read your article,” okay, I thought, I didn’t ask him too, like I’m not asking for this. His family has a bit of a HELP desire…

They should keep it in check. Buying some girl clothes every now and then is one thing as that’s what his sister does. Invites my friend, an artist, over to her house in Bel Air for a week, and she takes her out, around, and that’s nice. I did not need the “expertise.” But of course, I’m going to get the UNSAFE guy. There was nothing SAFE about the moves he made. You don’t get involved with someone psychologically, I’m sorry. That hurt me almost beyond repair. And strangely, he has no real guts, not when it comes to relationships, but he didn’t want a relationship because he’s meditating, and it’s like, DUDE, I can’t even believe you thought THIS was what I needed

EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE you can make it but everyone can — LIKE WHY WAS THIS MY PROBLEM? He just started projecting problems, yes, as someone who writes DRAMA, yes, he was obsessed with problems. I wasn’t a TV show, and if that’s what he saw, he could have made a fucking phone call. But of course, why? Why would he do that for lowly me? I couldn’t even with this guy, he was a fucking boring classic when it came to women. Like I get why “the one woman” you ever loved — moved on. Whoever she was. WHAT woman wants to be in that kind of relationship? Who wants to talk about CREATING YOUR OWN REALITY to a robotic degree? I’m telling you, he and his brother said that at least 14,000 times. Like, I get it, change the channel. “In the 15th century,” he brother said, in all seriousness, I would have been the one to SPEAK to animals. Meaning, me. When, in the 15th century hunny, you would have been Quasimodo. I don’t mean to be a bitch, but that’s what I should have been with such insults. Fuck you.

Fuck David, Adam, that whole family. Fuck you. You sick fucks.

If a trauma person were to say, “who did that remind you of?” Meaning, was it connected to my past? He seemed to be a kind of monster of “the people” I spoke to about this story. Meaning, the story itself wasn’t problematic, it was everyone else. IT was, as I ended up in these relationships, and my cousins in Italy, even, in Naples. Even they exhibited what how hard it was. There was nothing pleasant about it. I did not need to open up for the world, here. My parents were fucked up, his brother said, that we know… again, why am I here? Who the fuck are you? Telling me I’m psychic after 20 minutes. Look, these PSYCHIC men were retarded. ReTARD. I’d rather hang out with UNIQUE. I don’t have to deal with this shit. FOR MY BENEFIT.

Everything feels impossible sometimes, it just does. I’m just trying to be more open minded, generally, as, when I look at couples, I’m more or less surprised. Really? I’m trying to be more open-minded. I think the slytherin, I don’t know how that person would appear in the world… like on a TV show, how would I cast him? A slytherin, that’s the first thing Dave Chappelle is seeing, I assure you. “Is that man a slytherin?” He’s only seeing slytherins, I assure you, in this psychedelic group. “Slytherins?” He would have told me, right away. “Maria, you’re hanging out with slytherins.”

“I would exercise caution.”

"Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness"

That’s their motto.

I’m not a slytherin. That’s for sure. The guru might have been a slytherin. Nothing but slytherins. I ended up in this house to my detriment. No thanks. I know good slytherins too, two females. They are actresses, opera singers, as sometime I look at Cate Blanchett, and I go, she’s a good slytherin. She’s unbelievably beautiful and great, the Great Kate. I’m always so happy to see her get awards and be moved by George Clooney honoring her. Monica Bellucci — not a slytherin. My friend Kate, the opera singer, she’s a slytherin. She knows it. She’s even reptilian. She’s a good witch. A woman who can change the energy of a theater, the whole thing, and I could feel the room change, like “uh oh,” before she performed, and it turned out, she was going through so so much at the time… as we met up afterwards. She’s a cool friend to have. You know what I mean? I wonder if I should reach out to her, actually, see if she knows anyone in NYC that might need an assistant or something?

I need to get out there in the world, I gotta recognize my life. I deserved so much better than that! YUCK. I guess people are bored. Sure, the guru was never bored, sure, that’s not what that looked like. That looked like a BOY who needed to stop playing video games. A boy who’s mean to the girl he likes. A man who was genius and wise for reasons I can’t…. I don’t know why. I felt like I was 100% stupid. Just stupid. But my parents were of a idiocy supreme. A supreme idiocy. Unique would laugh at that, AKA Lenny Kravitz, that’s who would play him, a delightful cheeky man. So I can get smart now.

I have to keep working on my writing, regardless, because I’ve come this far. I’m giving myself a minute to find my groove at this restaurant. Honestly, as far as restaurant work goes, I feel lucky, as in, everyone is nice. I start at 3:30, I end around 10, mostly, sometimes sooner. I want to go out at night, but I can plan, I can figure out where to go. I’ll keep doing these open mics, I’ll keep trying to break into acting again, I’m meeting up with this band later on today, (this is what I mean, this is real life to me), to sing with them. I’m trying to find people I can sing with.

And, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. So you got hit on by two people, in shitty clothes, lol, so you had a couple of DRINKS, Maria, shrugging at myself, and my emotional difficulty with what this all means, and so, yes, you’ll go meet up with a band later, you’re voice will be fine, and then maybe see that lawyer guy you met shortly, get home, because I have to work tomorrow at 5:30 AM. This is where I’m at right now. But go live. In some senses, I have to relinquish control, a bit. Let go. There’s nothing I can do this second.

I rejected hierarchy completely. I wasn’t interested in making it. I wasn’t interested in status. And now, here I am. You met THOSE GUYS. People who are power players. That was a dumb ass move. These were not people to get involved with. I’m speaking to myself right now, because I had to become a mother to myself, and that’s the thing, in my case that was imperative. So, I haven’t had a convo yet with my mother now, the Sun, the Mexican mother, as it’s easier referring to where they’re from, as everyone gets so confused, and why, I don’t know, but the EVERYTHING south of Mexico being Mexico — and these white people don’t know it — it’s just too much to get into, and only people of color are going to hear me on the levels… of… they think they know everything, white people, really. It’s amazing. And they don’t even know they’re Christian. I’ve laughed with Muslims, I really have.

“These people don’t know their Christian.”

Hilarious.

Sure sure, they’re not — wink — Christian, but they are, because religion is deep. It’s going to take time. That’s the joke, the Christians that don’t know their Christian. I’ve laughed, even, my cousins was a nun of the catacombs of Priscilla, “the Christians don’t know their Christian…” we laughed, we did.

Anyway, I haven’t done it officially yet, and would it be necessary, I don’t know, as that woman is so checked out as a human being that she might not even notice. I left that family, you see. She’s my ex-mother, just like the rest of them. She’s Señora. I’m MY mother. Not her. That was definitely not what I needed. And I most certaintly became a mother to myself — so that’s clarifying. So, “yes, you’re in the world…” now… finally… but I acted like an idiot. Look? Cate Blanchett is tuning in, tuning into all the convos I had with myself, or “my daughter” who did what I did. I’m recording this… I acted like an idiot. What are you going to do? There are idiots out there, or people who choose to live their lives in the way that they do… I wouldn’t attach, you see, because you’re in a similar place, momentarily, if that makes sense.

But I acted like an idio, in my opinion, my loving opinion because I think I’m worth more than that, all these men, truly, so-called men, okay? And as a mother, I can’t even deal with that woman, and yes, I’m sharp. I would not EMULATE her, as a mother, and neither would my sister, be real. So I became a mother to myself, and if you want me to get even bitchier, I can. I developed a maladaptive pattern, who gives a shit about trauma? In a sense. Maladaptive patterning. At least, with that term, you can recognize it. You can see it. So I’m out — and I did not find that to be clarifying, I found it to be harrowing. It’s hilarious to me, because my mother and sister now — GOSSIPING behind the scenes — what do YOU think a mental health expert is going to say about THAT family? YOU. Be real. Insane. How did I end up in a fucking other family?

I did it, that’s not the issue, I introduced her as my mother, right? We developed a relationship. It’s just — let UNIQUE say it: ya’ll need to relax, stop helping people. UNIQUE can even tell you that — it usually doesn’t work out. My sister in this family is happy, so that worked for her. For me, the brother was in love with me, giving AIDS to people for ten years, ridiculous, plus, I have hardly ever lived in LA, think. I had a totally different experience than she did…and again, WHY this was necessary, that’s my question for myself. SO PHEW, because that took my whole fucking life thus far. To get to this point, and I had to lose money… even!

I do not LIKE where I am. As an adult woman, Jesus, I have the right to say that. It will only get better, I have to keep my chin up, I have to work harder than I want to, and look, none of these people actually cared. You gotta put your hand up, because most people are guarded. Very. They know that. They know people have “routines.” They know people can act like they care. So, who knows where I might have been raped? I mean, how terrible… but with this motley crew, I agree with the sexual trauma specialist — anywhere. If anything, I’m holding myself close right now, because it broke my heart to understand how off-track I was. Like if you’re hanging with that GURU, you’re in trouble. Who wants to sit at a restaurant and repeat “paradiso” 14,000 times? He was surfing that feeling — good for you, I have cooler people to hang out with. I would never be here.

I’m going to get my cup of coffee, i’m going to work on EPIC a little bit, as I think I made some headway, and I can’t tell you how exhausting I find writing. I hope something happens there. As that hasn’t even gotten me anywhere. I feel mediocre, most days, I didn’t in the past, but that decade left me in RUINS — it’s just that, I don’t know, probably successful people feel that way, actually, so I don’t think it matters, I think it’s more that you keep reaching beyond that. I’m not a fan of correcting, as the mindset obsession is exhausting to me. It feels like bad computing. Sure, have a positive outlook, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with feeling how you feel in the moment, and being positive didn’t help me. It was a bit diluted.

So, I got into terrible relationships. Bad ideas. Now, sure, get a tea, every now and then, if you want to, I mean, the guru was so — ridiculous, so I don’t know why you would even want to hang out with that person, to be frank with you, as there wasn’t much there, except reality creation — as a blunt exercise — your life is your life. That’s first. So I’m going to keep opening up to what I can do now…

I go back and forth constantly, because I didn’t want to HARP on my life, meaning, was I supposed to be famous over a sex scandal? You goddamn idiots. But I’m here, and I don’t know what else to do. I suppose I saw that there was value in it, potentially, and that, it might make a thrilling, impactful story. So I see it as a film, Heavenly Creatures, that process took me like, I don’t know, a couple of months, versus a decade. And that GURU — I hope someone slaps him across the face. That’s the medicine I think he needs. By a woman. Now, I see that, like I see it doing well, you know? I tend to clear up and end there… like the dances to the child molester, rapist, dark, horrible, hysterical, biting — in a good way.

I think Obama, I think Obama might agree. You know? Since he helped me through this mess of slytherins spiritually. Just, if the guru could IMAGINE as he said the JOB of the president is to IMAGINE what the country could look like, IMAGINE what OBAMA would say…to all this? What would OBAMA say? A Black man. The Unsung Heroes of my Life currently. That’s the truth, and it’s such a good idea, that it’s flourishing all around me. Nothing but support, humor, acknowledgement, and kindness, basic kindness. Be real, it’s a good message. He would have laughed at the slytherins, because they were. These were slytherins. Complicated house.

I’m LESS into astrology, MORE into Harry Potter houses. That’s how I’m seeing the world now — if I see slytherins, and this couple last night might have been slytherins, and I’m seeking to find good slytherins… It’s just that, as a comedian, it’s fine. I can talk about it, my flaws, weaknesses, if you would. Imagine? The scene? You— you get off work, you’re in black leggings, you open up your computer, and a couple begins to fish you… and they want to make out with you… like that’s the direction… you get pulled in… you know what I mean? I’m laughing. Just a totally hilarious… encounter. And would someone wiser, sure, would they have been as confused as I was? Or would they have… picked up on that? I’m not sure.

I thought, oh, someone wants to talk, get to know me…lol.

But again, it’s going out.

So I'm reading Somebody's Daughter right now, looking up clothes for my renaissance

I’m looking at photos of Tina Turner, I’m reading Somebody’s Daughter, and I’m thinking about this guy I met and how I’m going to tell him — ask me out on a date. Pick a nice spot. Ask me out on an official date. Okay? New attitude. Is this so novel? I can’t stand this “let’s hang out” business. You know?

I’m LOOKING at Amal Clooney. If you were to go up to her, “let’s hang out” in a t-shirt, I believe she’d say, “sure, sounds good…” walking out the door. That’s my icon right there. My mother, I believe, sort of wanted to be Amal Clooney.

So, look, this author’s father was a rapist, he was sent to prison for raping two women, and she, herself, was raped. She goes to prison with nothing but love in her heart to embrace him. She can’t resolve all these parts, but she’s not attempting to, she’s a positive person — what the hell was she supposed to do?

No offense, but at least on the comedy stage I can be brutally honest. White people: calm down, yes the Rema song. I’m telling you, at times, I was appalled. Thanks for caring—not. I don’t know what to do with the Zen Master Sybil (played by Oprah, hopefully) who was a Zen Master psychologist I consulted — her basic feedback was rage. I had to say “how dare you?” And I found that to be true, so I don’t know.

I was disrespected very young.

She needs a drink, for sure, after seeing her father in prison. I’m not exactly like that. Though when I saw Dr. J for the last time with my ex-brother, you know, the one who told me he was committing manslaughter in some states by giving people AIDS — okay? — for ten years. Was it a JOKE? Dr. J, everywhere. Also in love with me.

And my Neapolitan cousin, Vico, the siren, saw that shit — coming. NO, my cousins said NOOOOO, Maria no! Impossible! No! “How the,” pinches in my face, “how the hell am I IN another family?!” First of all. “Three families?”

“I was an existential CRISIS,” to GIGGINO.

“No, no, it’s impossible. Brothers are not supposed to be in love with their siblings!”

No. “Absolutely not.”

This was the Neapolitan response.

I have to laugh because I couldn’t speak Italian, right? When I reunited with my cousins in Naples — just my cousins I spent a few summers with, be real. And they are asking me if I had a drinking problem. But considering the story, wouldn’t they apologize now? This woman, a woman who had been raped, who went to visit her father in prison for 24 years because he raped two women? Yeah, she needed a drink.

I’m not exactly like that.

And IMPOSSIBLE IMPOSSIBLE IMPOSSIBLE.

“NO!”

The Neapolitans.

“BRAVA MARIA BRAVA…” they can change their tune.

When it was unreal, the story, I got nothing but comments, but when it becomes real, my hunch is — silence. That’s the way it’s been thus far. A terrible truth. But I got comics and my scorpio — in Venus — to thank. The comics get it: she has no idea if she was molested, raped, she’s coming to terms with all this. They’ve been so supportive, truly, listening to Amaramente — right now — and remembering so fondly, the way their eyes shifted towards that stool, on stage, when I was in too much pain in my hips, weird pains, “I’m wearing a Lidocaine patch…” I collapsed into the stool. “So I was in a sex scandal when I was four…”

It wasn’t funny, not yet, but it’s definitely funny.

I don’t necessarily want to even speak to anyone in my old life right now, besides a few people, because that was such a mess. My friends, not one, remembered. The story was the same, and it didn’t make sense, regardless, I was writing a story about these years, no? Did I—hm???— go through a mental health crisis? For real? Yes.

Why I wasn’t believed I don’t know, why people believed she lied but that she couldn’t have been lying to begin with, if you would, about my father — I do not know. People aren’t always that aware of themselves.

I couldn’t believe this guru, this Hollywood guy? Like I needed this? He offended me as a rich person, and I have never spoken like that before in my life—this guy so cozy in his Bel Air abode, his sisters. He offended me as a man who wanted to wave his dick around for my benefit. And what was he thinking?

Anyway, I have to take a breather. I’m posting videos of my open mics — I sold everything, I got rid of everything, so I have nothing. The clothes I have don’t fit, meaning, they aren’t who I am, but everyone always compliments them because they’re clearly well-made. Nice color. Suede.

Not right for stand up, not unless I’m going to make a point — which I probably will — who am I now? In a pirate shirt? And Joseph’s technicolor dreamcoat? Can I come from this story? Opening VOGUE. I have to get there. We build over time. “how was I supposed to ACT????” Hopefully Julian Spooner will be available to act ABSURD to Amaramente. Yeah, I’m fine, totally fine — NO, IMPOSSIBLE.

“I’m a wreck…”

Julian Spooner is going to retract, “how nice, gotta go…”

Unreal. When it became real, it became unreal. But when it was unreal, it was real. And Julian Spooner will hold a punching bag, he will toss me a foam bat, and he will, covered in mats, take it. We will Mortal Kombat battle. I was ao angry.

Julian Spooner won’t know what to say to that.

Anyway, I don’t know what to wear right now, and I can’t run off and buy a new wardrobe. So I’m trying to plan it out, as I don’t have a lot of money right now. And I didn’t need a Hollywood DICK, and I’m like…to Amararente, Renato Carosone, picturing Julian Spooner (a man Barbara Harris would have been attracted to from what I’m feeling) raising his arm and pointer finger as this guru did in Beverly Hills.

Acting like a guru this guy, “you don’t have to MANAGE it, MANAGE the shift in reality…” this guy with millions of dollars.

So now, I’m looking at myself now, and deciding what to do style wise. I’m much more attractive than these videos show me to be, but I’m coming back from the dead practically, and I have to improve my set-up, fluff out my hair, just update.

Unfortunately, my former closest friend was so wrapped up in my style, which is annoying, like I didn’t need someone else attached to my identity, I sometimes can’t think. I keep asking him to leave like Jeffrey Allen said, and keep tuning into Dave Chappelle on the psycho spiritual plane, as my dream, if you must know, is to reach him, in some capacity.

And I hope I’ll be able to look back and say…

Oh? You think you’re psychic? Well guess who’s MORE psychic? Dave Chappelle. Hear my words. I hope I am right.

So meditating on Dave Chappelle on the floor of a restaurant, I thought, THINK LADERA HEIGHTS. “This is where you’re ACTUALLY FROM, not ITALY.” And how hilarious is that? Dr. J was in Ladera Heights, I can’t always explain WHY I feel like that’s significant. But the whitest woman the world has ever seen was in the kingdom of Magic Johnson. It’s important, that’s all I know.

Sure, I have roots… looking around Ladera Heights, with tennis courts, shaking my head. Jesus, some hilarious reversal of Fresh Prince of Bel Air. “I’ll tell you how I became the princess,” as someone who sort of looks like one, “of Ladera Heights.”

And listen to this.

When I got back from Miracle Mile, AKA the sex scandal, I stumbled out of my room one night because there was weird energy, but just INSERT Dave Chappelle — he’s going to REMIND me that my mother was Dr. J. He’s going to SAGE the house, fumigate it, no problem. Move. I said to my father, please, let’s move, Jesus.

In any case, I said, knowing it was common for a child to do this, that there was something in my room… it felt like an irrational fear, as I was a mini-psychologist at the time. However, I couldn’t help that I felt that way. He laughed, which confirmed that kids say that, and he said no. But the feeling didn’t go away. So I asked him, did something happen in my room, then? “Well someone was raped in your room.” No hesitation. Now, a hypnotherapist said, “that’s the dementia.”

They say all sorts of crazy shit.

Okay, sure, but I was already in a sex scandal, and he showed me how the assailant entered, that the housekeeper of the former owners was raped, in my room, and I was confused. They never found the guy. And what am I supposed to do with that? My parents, who lived at the end of this row, moved in after that. That’s what he said. Do I call up the association? Just to make sure? That it was the dementia he didn’t have?

I’m telling you. These freaks. That is all for now.

I’m speaking to the sexual trauma specialist tomorrow at 9 AM. So I’ll spend some time, this hour, just asking him questions about what the body of that is, since he said, “yeah people describe things in this range…” That’s fine.

I’m mostly just accepted where I’m at. What else are you going to do? I’m working on a piece for EPIC, I’m working on a piece about Barbara Harris, so I hope to have that done soon, though I find setting a deadline a little hard, because these pieces are taking time, but I basically figured out the first 1/3 of BH at AJs, Supermarket, important. Currently, as she’s haunting/helping me — she’s hovering in my mind on a stage in a absolutely stunning white showgirl number, sparkling in midnight blue lighting, with lush feathers spouting out of her head.

It’s called Mental Health the Musical. That’s my latest idea.

We’ll do a Jeopardy game where doctors sort of guess — diagnoses… and according to TIME, we have more diagnoses than EVER—a good sign. So, let’s whip it all out, and sing arias.

The good thing, I’m basically over my discomfort with being public about that story, it’s not MY story, it’s something that happened to me. At least, I’ve cracked through the initial block of stone it was, just the sentence itself…and now I’m venturing into storytelling mode.

I think, more so than anything, comedy was the most accessible avenue to perform again. I know there’s an industry night. I might not be there yet, but I will go to industry night, and keep figuring it out… as acting going to take a second, I think, so I just need to sign up for an acting class and get back into it.

I feel very positive though, I feel very supported by — the future, even. So I keep going. But I did go on a roller coaster ride, these last three months, going on four, in stepping out on stage, and also posting on social media — which is just a platform.

It’s a public platform.

If my friends USE it or NOT in that way, I don’t judge them for it, because, in a sense, why use it, for personal use? Just because this shit, sorry, takes time. But everyone and their mother is on social media, so I’m figuring out how to use it, and you get better as you go — classic rule. You’re never really prepared, you know? You ride that wave, slightly uncomfortable, because it keeps you on your toes.

I was exhausted at the ACID GREEN jacket night — a coat I’m keeping because it’s so Joker’s Daughter, I think, or something, and I’m trying to find an identity. One that isn’t at all attached to anybody else. It’s going well, so that’s my gameplan.

After this week, I should be in a better flow financially. I just have to take it step by step. So I’m going to just adjust my basic set up. I’m going to try a look, I don’t know what to do with my hair, yet. I wanted to grow it out, big, and I had hair problems over these past few years, so I’ll be honing in… just freshening up.

I have a sense of what I’d like to do — and it’s funny, I think I’m supposed to get fake boobs, lol, kidding. I’m supposed to play up my whiteness, my fairness, wear neutrals, I think, and make my features darker, something, slicked back hair.

I do not know what to say. I can’t get there quite yet. But I’ll get there.

All I can do, personally, is get better. I gotta get into a rehearsal room. I have to unleash my voice, look at myself, and begin — as I said — just working on timing, and all that, but I’m going to keep going to this later mic, and just work on talking to people about it… because I need to break out of the objective of being funny, so I can work out the ideas — because, probably, I’ll find ways of being funny, not trying to be, as I noticed that about myself. A comic said, “you’re naturally funny…”

Some people have the craft, which I can learn, but I’m naturally funny so I’m trying to get there. I just need to be hotter now. I just had a terrible experience… truly. Like, “he likes you,” okay, um, is that how people who like YOU act?

My dream? Monica Bellucci. We’re in Zoolander. We are emerging from the shadows. I might look like Willa Wonka but Italian. I’m dancing around Monica Bellucci on the way… I’m opening DOORS for Monica, I’m LISTENING to people, with Monica Bellucci, so “what do you need to talk about?” She knows most things.

It’s a mic drop. Give me the cash, give me the keys, give me the codes. And Monica Bellucci and I will scale down on rope… to get to the SWISS banks — upon sight of her, everyone will just open vaults. No effort required. We’re walking into the White House… doing dances down the hall, I am. I’m trumpeting her arrival… with a boombox. Or at least, a portable speaker. Make way for Prince Ali, thank you, Barbara Harris the genie.

I’m telling you, was I Monica Bellucci? I mean in terms of EVERYONE AND EVERYONE being in love with me? My friend was a little overboard. And I’m becoming PSYCHIC because people are in love with me — I’m confused. Help, Monica Bellucci, help. We will take over the world. Change the world. The point will be made. Okay? At a restaurant with Monica Bellucci after the easiest bank robbery — we’re in broad daylight, shaking our heads at idiots. Just the idiocy of the idea, no? Anyway, one can dream. We’re looking at photos of fashion… Zoolander.

“We must beware of him.”

“Remember me.”

Monicac Bellucci knows — if you offend a Neapolitan, they might succeed.

Listen to what the Hollywood guru told me

So, he tells me once I’m OUT of the hospital that I was repressed for a long time.

First of all, what does he know about that? He led me down a ROAD. Was I? Did I wake up to sexual abuse? What repression? That I wasn’t fed? Cared for? He believed I was a product of neglect, but based on what? His FEEEEEELING.

He spoke about his FEEEEEEELLINNNGG like that — All CAPS, over-indulgent.

I don’t know what to say there, but that was extremely weird. So I get out, he, once again, he doesn’t ask me a question about what I went through, this asshole, excuse me, he tells me that I was repressed for a long time???? In other words, my going into the hospital was logical? Not a good sign on his part. He tells me that I am Carl Jung, Carl Jung’s The Red Book, and look, I don’t even know how to tackle this lunatic. This psychic lunatic. I was still relying on him, by the way, which was the worst decision I ever made. He kept saying “I’m HERE” as if he were training a dog. Okay? I went through panic attacks, and he goes, “that’s par for the course…” what the fuck is this man talking about?

Imagine?

I keep thinking about this absurd relationship I got into, and I wish I could sue him. Majorly sue him. I can’t, but I’m so appalled by this man, it blows me away — HE is where I ended up.

The ten minute mic

So I did it. I did the ten minute mic. I needed to let go of the 5 minute cut off and try to just talk to people. Theoretically, the goal is to get to a half hour, even an hour, right? So that ten minute mic is my new go-to for a minute. It was the best crowd thus far. It wasn’t the most populated of rooms, we were a handful, of men, mostly Black men, actually, and one old rocker who apparently, according to, I’m forgetting everyone’s name because I’m exhausted, the man in a Dolly Parton t-shirt, he was once a famous rocker? But was he making fun of him? Snipes. There was another white guy in the back and some Asian dude looking down… not always…but he might have come for the mic I wanted to go to, but the people who host these mics extended the previous mic, so I didn’t see him perform… as I left with the 7:30 people, and I’m not sure if they did the 9:00 PM mic, but that’s why he was there… I just arrived early, so I could put my name on the list because I didn’t want to be there until fucking midnight because I worked until 4 AM last night.

It’s so funny to me because Black men continue to be the unsung heroes of my life right now. Every time I am feeling lost or confused or unseen, there’s always a Black man. My roommate is Black, he came to get me out of my room, all excited, bringing me in, wanting to introduce me to his girlfriend, reprimanding me for acting as if I didn’t pay rent just like they did, so why am I acting as if I have to ask permission? You can USE THE WHOLE HOUSE Maria. One Black comic called me back, “where have you been, good energy?” A Black man in an Uber share is simply acknowledging my existence with a hello, how are you, right? No attachments. A white person in an Uber share is turning away from you when you get in…texting. And tonight, a very nice man who’s been at other mics, he said he liked me, when I sat down, and I was “the white woman” there, so I got a little roasted… mildly. When I was done, he actually complimented me, “you were comfortable this time, onstage, you should keep doing that, just that…for a minute…” just talk to people. I needed to hear that this evening. But at least, now, I have a longer mic I can go to where I can… begin to go a little deeper into the story and tease the ideas out of it… I still have a lot to do, develop a style, characters, work on jokes, but at least I can explore the point, the points, the psychology of it…

At least Dr. J got a laugh, in that room, “white people didn’t tend to get that… that her name is Dr. J…” she’s wrapping up her child in sex scandals, she’s drinking, driving and looking for sex downtown…she’s getting naked in front of you when you want to file a tax return in a room of mirrors — like damn, Dr. J, that’s a bold move. Dr. J — leegend, and it begins in the kingdom of Magic Johnson. Ladera Heights. She was…? “The whitest woman anybody had ever seen,” for real. “Remarkably white, very white, unusual shade…” and just picture my neighborhood saying that. That was the first thing anyone said. “She was truly white.” And I couldn’t help but laugh. And you’re going to see why, except, I don’t know if I’m always grazing an unadultered truth, like a Black person is going to go, “wow…” if you will, like I don’t know what a person of color thinks about the dark side of white… since, this is Dr. J. So let’s say, a blind innocence… to begin. When it comes to racism, yes, but there was something about her character that rang like white puss, sort of, sorry, she was graphic and sick. Like, my father told me this story when I came home from the sex scandal.

They had gotten burglarized okay? At like 11 AM, it was even ridiculous, which I think was the point. SO Dr. J — hear this — she was a tax law expert. I might go into Dr. J next time. But the point, to skip, she catered to a clientele of people about to go to jail, people at the bottom of their lives, and look, I might have been four, but her clintele was quite diverse, actually, and she’s sleeping with all of them, apparently, for one, or something, and she’s doing their taxes, no, she’s saving their lives… the most selfless person… but she’sleaving her jewels and cash out… so her closet door is open and her jewels are sparkling, and she’s just leaving cash around. As… people are paying her like, close to 400 dollars an hour (in value in 1989, 1990) to get riches thrown in their face. In Ladera Heights. Her eyes were as blue as the sky… the exact shade… as if there was darkness there. A blindness… that’s… annoying, she’s just an innocent person. I’ll tackle Dr. J next time. For a minute, I’m just going to…

take this nice man’s advice — just do that a minute. I’ll work on characters, delivery, and setting text later. Good crowd. I’m glad I went, so I was at Ace Hotel, and normally, I would order a beer or something, right? And stay a while, I don’t know, but I made a different choice. The way we fill our time…and these seemingly small moments, to me, aren’t small. It’s not that I have a drinking problem, but you have to make different choices to… make different choices, if that makes sense. That might sound obvious, but a majority of the battle is getting to that space, where you waiver, where you think, should I skip the mic, I’m tired, and get a beer and relax, or something? No, I gotta go, even when you don’t want to.

Instead I wrote to work out what I wanted to talk about… the Head of the PTA, that’s a character, I have to go and work on that. I can go to the character mic, again, but that’s not a let me…tell you about it, that’s a “do it.” I’m descending on a chord… down the wall of school… I unclip the carabiners… ready to greet you, whoever you are. The drone appears. A soldier peers over the roof. I have a military personnel with me at all times. He’s just there, too. I know that crazy shit can happen to you. I’m going to reenvision “the shooter drill…” I’m training these kids. We’re going to — get the shooter, you see. We’re going to blow up Twitter. We’re going to… stage coups, sure… my voice over the PA system, “not this time mother fucker.”

And then, Nickolodeon GAK is dumped on this person. Lots and lots of GAK. Slimy GAK. Now what? Idiot. The tennis ball machine. Nerf guns, just me in mid air, turning over the main hallway, firing tennis balls at the school shooter. Training these kids, lifting weights at eight, me with a stopwatch, the military man standing there. Just little kids coming over their desks with weapons — go. Except in this case, I think, some hilarious net is projected, or an alternative to actually killing the guy, I don’t know. I would want the effect of it looking like the real thing, like, that’s basically what we have to do now. We have to train kids — to be lethal weapons.

And I will train them.

I just had the best time thinking about the ridiculous ways to just obliterate this person. A military personnel standing at the head of the classroom with me — “this is the aorta valve…” I’m teaching these kids anatomy. "The target,” my hand moving down, “is here, here, and here.”

It’s time to get funky… imagine? That song starts playing for this school shooter. Clap, clap clap, clap your hands. Casper Slide Part Two. You could call me Halloween, Jason, yes a slasher film but for the good of Man. Imagine? School shooter arrives — Casper Slide Part II. (My nickname was Casper.)

Insane. Kids being shot. Anyway, that’s my dream: Head of the PTA — turning through the air with nerf guns — pointed at the school shooter to Casper Slide Part II, “criss cross.” Now it’s time to get funky… that’s a character I have to develop once I had a realization that people’s understanding of me, admittedly I could give off a vibe, but what sense did that make, was wrong. No no no, I’m not a cool Mom. No, no no no. I’m not skipping through meadows, no. I’m Dr. J’s daughter. I’m the Head of the PTA. I have a bat in my trunk. And everyone in Ladera Heights knows that.

Apparently, I was good at characters, I just don’t know what that means anymore because I feel like such a different person. But, at my character open mic, I’ve gotten good feedback still, but it takes a second to get comfortable up there…I don’t have a sense of timing, yet, all of that takes awareness.

I tried to riff off Whitney Cummings talk about not being Head of the PTA, but just asking teachers directly if they are pedophiles. The Head of the PTA is operating as if they are all. Everyone is. Could be. Guilty until… imagine the PTA, this crew of people behind me, the Head of the PTA, getting upset, incensed. I feel like this character has to live in Ladera Heights. Her family lives in Ladera Heights. She has kids… cool cars outside her ranch. That’s my neighborhood. So funny. I’m from Ladera Heights. Alice and Wonderland runs through here, lol. It did. Dr. J.

“The whitest woman in all the land…”

I feel good, about myself, today.

I gotta go to sleep.

At Ace Hotel

My friend set me up with a writer/artist who is working on a TV show today, and man, after coming out of a singing rehearsal with a pianist, I moved all this energy arund as I worked until 4 AM last night, so I feel much better, and I’m trying to keep a very neutral stance about everything right now. And, I’m trying to take more time and space, like, after working until 4 AM, is that the day to set up a meeting? Hm, probably not. Do it the next day.

I was exhausted today, my strep flared up again, which was so annoying, as it’s been a bit of a battle shaking off this strep completely. But singing helped actually. It helped clear my throat, so maybe I moved it, so I’m feeling much better, though I left the National Opera Center feeling a little lost… at twilight in the big city. I walked over to Ace Hotel as they have that moody lobby where you can work because I needed to land.

I met up with an older grizzly man from Ukraine today, as I’m playing around, trying to be open minded, put myself out there, see WHO else is out there? And he was older than the dream of a piano player I met, young Ukranian. Attractive. Polished. I have to think about that, especially if I want to sing in lounges, hotels, that sort of thing. But it doesn’t mean this man couldn’t factor in otherwise, but he was heavy handed, not sensitive to a singer. Grigorii is a classical trained pianist since the age of three. He plays gigs all the time. He got a touch weary because I just wanted to rehearse one more time before recording our video, and that turned him off.

But we are still in contact.

That being said, I wanted to see if there was a piano version of Little Sparrow, I wanted to see if there was a PYT, and also I tried a couple of more, and it was just a no. We’re not going to be able to work together in that capacity. However, he writes his own songs, that’s really what he’s passionate about, and so, I listened to a couple, and I thought, why don’t you send me some of your songs? And we can evaluate if we can play together that way? Right? I just want to sing… and I want to be open as to what that means.

It’s this part I think that stops most people actually, this annoying part, where you just have no clue what the fuck is going on. He paid for the rehearsal room too, he just jumped in there, which I wasn’t expecting. I’m meeting with a band in Gowanus on Friday to try that out, they seem pretty serious, and the guy on the phone was musician cool, right? Like you want my wife’s Facebook page? Just because, not to say I had a slasher film in my head but I’m going to some random guy’s house in Gowanus, and I might be slight, but if I had to I’d stab someone, to be frank with you. I would throw a chair in your face. I’m grabbing the first sharp object I see. That’s basically it. I’m Neapolitan. If I have to attack, I will.

I needed to move some energy around, because I wanted to go to an open mic tonight, and I was feeling low, just because I felt lost… I texted Grigorii, and I said, look, I’ll even pay you for your time. I think I need to keep a strict focus, that guy is for jazz — he plays everything — but I gotta think, if I want to get gigs around town, I have to think about what’s going sell. So he said he’d get back to me later. Like, Grigoriiiiii I’m serious, I want to get gigs, I just want to finalize a song list, can I pay you??? You know? I have to go out there and try and get a gig. The thing about this band on Friday, they want to go to a showcase, they’re looking for a singer to front the band, they’re into the songs I’m into, so it might be easier like that.

We’ll see.

Now, I don’t know how much time all this is going to take, but next, the next thing I have on the horizon, but not yet, because I have to take it step by step, is to find a guitarist so I can work on Neapolitan songs. I want to do a Neapolitan album. I need Roberto Murolo good. Someone who can play in that style, and we’ll see, maybe that will be the one, you know? Like the Italian joints will usher me in. Anema Cuore is utterly beautiful. His rendition of O Sole Mio is the one, for me. But that’s going to require accent, it’s practically classical music, even if Roberto Murolo isn’t an opera singer, the man is — Roberto Murolo. He’s one of the best singers ever. And I gotta figure out the key, if I do high, sort of classical, or what, my instinct says — yes. I still am getting back into shape, of course.

But I have a pretty clear vision there. Era di Maggio…. I love that music, really.

I get scared sometimes, lost, because I keep trying to simply communicate and I run into people who only want to relate. I am not in competition, I’m not even saying my experience is unique, but I feel like I open my mouth and it’s — well, you know, everyone — it’s exhausting. No offfense, I don’t know if I was RAPED as a four year old, so I have to spell it out, and what can I say? I have no idea how to deliver that information, and it happened so goddamn long ago, it’s like what the fuck else am I supposed to do? When I don’t know someone. You know what I mean? I gotta keep a super strict line there — nope. I do not talk about that. I just don’t. It’s not a casual conversation. Not a sex scandal. A sex scandal is not a casual convo. You know? I can’t get too serious, come on, it just sucks.

So I get shaky, I get worried, I am just on my own, but I just need a solid boyfriend, someone who is there, not to talk about it, necessarily, but encouraging, or someone who has a sense that Whitney Cummings is talking about — pedophiles on social media. Who cares? At this point. It’s so on the surface. She’s going straight up to teachers — are you a pedophile? It’s right there, it sits right under the surface, as anything related to sex does, but that’s definitely a hot topic. So I lose my nerve, sometime, and I must admit as I’m trying to really do this, I’m trying to really expand into this wish of mine, as I have no idea what else to do….

I had apathy issues, I can get apathetic, it might not come across that way, but I can stagnate, you see. I remember I met a director in Paris, and I had no clue what this was, as most of the time, I think people are going to give me a script, because my personality? Whoa. In my case, that’s — a plastic notion. Showcase personality… okay? Which one? And I was trying to assert self, too, today, since I’m trying to empower myself — insert. Not just let someone mix with me, no. I retain a clear, front. I really had to work through this day energetically, this goddamn strep. I really did. I had to work through this day.

The thing is, the sooner you just identify what your blocks are, the easier it is to — move past them. I gotta get into a rehearsal room. I gotta begin conceiving of a show. Something. I needed to take a minute, today, and not collapse in the aloneness… feeling like I’m really on my own, and the point is — not to give up. The point is — to keep moving and working towards goals. And look, um? Am I going to meet people that don’t mesh, or even bad musicians, which I’ve encountered too— not to say that I’m the best I can be, right now, but musicians I would prefer not to play with. Well, that’s par for the course. That’s basically it.

So I think I’m going to go to the ten min open mic this evening now that I feel clearer, which singing always does, I always feel clear. It’s the best way to move energy, I think, and I’m going to give myself a little more time to develop ideas, and I’ll see how that goes. It hasn’t been easy on me though, it really hasn’t, but again, I felt totally lost after my relationships this past decade, the guru a bit of an inflated ego there, I just mean, his talk of me being able to make it, getting inappropriately involved in my personal life, projecting like mad — there’s a lot of projeting going on in the psychic space, excuse me, as he believes he is psychic… he can read minds, or FEEL into you, which is sort of creepy. Like a boyfriend could have told me that.

“This guy sounds a little creepy.”

So I don’t know who I am anymore, in a sense, because I didn’t feel like anyone actually saw me accurately. Now, I’m sort of amazed, because I don’t feel seen, if you would. I’m going to think through what I want to talk about tonight…

So Whitney Cummings said it, she’s not the head of the pta, or something, don’t do that, she’s going up to a teacher and asking him directly if he is a pedophile. Well, I am the head of the pta because I was in a sex scandal, I’m scaling down the wall of school, right? A military man peering over the roof. I’m unclipping the carabiners. I’m definitely the Head of the PTA. “What are you doing at my school?” So it’s alright to talk about, pedophiles are everywhere, very very likely Alice Munro said, very very likely, we’re all being abused, we’re all getting molested. Not on my watch. I have eyes on everybody. At all times. I’m monitoring the hall, the bathroom, the lockers, the closets, I’m in deep discussions with TECH — okay? Time to get AI on board, time to project that AI voice on speakers towards this mother fucker, I want weapons — nerf guns, GAK, it’s time to bring back GAK, Nickolodeon. BIG tub of GAK at the entrance of school — okay? I thought about training kids with guns, just to flip it on these assholes, like desperate times kids — desperate measures. It’s time for a little anatomy 101. Shooter drill, my ass. Not on my watch, nor HIS, my military personnel, very tall. I’m very short. “This is an aorta valve. Target kids.”

We gotta bring down the shooter. Oh? You wanna come to this school? SURE. Let’s turn the tables kids. I was in a sex scandal, so this is my destiny. And like, this is where I get lost, like I feel like I have ideas in my head that I run, that I don’t write down, and then I feel lost afterwards, but it turns out, at this point, writing things down doesn’t exactly work, but — I gotta work on the character. “You, Maria, I’m talking to YOU.” This is BRAZIL. “Bitch, hear.” People act like I wasn’t wrapped up ain sex scandal, do you have ANY fucking idea what a goddamn nightmare that was? Look, okay? My BRAZILIAN Mother will kick you ass. She can whip you divinely to the next county, “COUNTRY HUNNY, FUCK COUNTY.” SHE would CORRECT ME, you have no idea who you were dealing with. My Brazilian mother was a divinity meets Tarantino gangster. He would have fallen in love with her, I’m pretty sure. Hr would have been 100% obsessed with her. She was a fire goddess.

Let’s play a little game, she said, nice game.

I’ll try and take from there. I’ll start with Whitney Cummings, and how I’m the head of the PTA, it was a revelatioin, I don’t have avaitors right now, but maybe I can find a cheap pair on my way this evening… LOOK, um, I’m climbing over the roof, ducking, flying out classroom windows—I’m taking the shooter drill, this pansy fear bullshit, and I’m turning the canons onto the school shooter — imagine the news caster? “Um,” did he hear that right? “Kids are fighting back with GAK?”

Nerf gun. I’m taking the tennis ball machine, and it will sit in the middle of the hall facing the front doot — the TECH department will program it — boom. I thought training kids with guns — or teaching them how to use weapons might be a touch too real, but it would be effective. I’m a sniper, on the roof of this school with some random military personel. “You do not undersand.” Walking into school, imagining myself as the Head of the fucking PTA changed my goddamn life. Excuse me? You do not know who I am. This idea that I was…cute, no, not exactly. Lethal. I was in a sex scandal, so that would make sense. Bake sale? Uh huh. I’ve heard it before. Sounds like Hansel and Gretel to me. I’m chasing people — super aggressively — across the football field. Boom — up the bleachers — launching myself off impossible heights — torpedo. So there’s sense.

I’ll try that, see how that goes, and I’ll talk about the utter nightmare it’s been for me, having just come to terms with all this. I gotta hear, okay? Mentally ill, look, look, a school shooter sure, is mentally ill, but there’s a difference between mentally ill and getting criminal, okay? My mother was mentally ill, for sure, Dr. J, but it’s like, I was in a sex scandal. And I’ve dealt with Peer Gynt resposnses. You see, PEER GYNT, like cool, sure, cool, bye… like I don’t want to talk about a fucking sex scandal just because I’m figuring out what to do with it on my channels, so I gotta stay attentive, because that shit made me fluffy about it, because I have to be. Yeah so, she said my father was a threat to me, and I’m piecing it together now. Absurd.

So I’ll see how preparing thought wise goes, if that will help me begin to tackle chunks of it. I’m going to go to the ten minute mics a minute, as I’m trying to do a lot right now, and I think a show is a good idea, I just don’t know what it is, and I gotta go and spend some time in a rehearsal room, thinking outloud. What SUCKED about being in a goddamn SEX SCANDAL? Everyone. Literally everyone. But not you. Relax. You’re fine. You’re just thinking about your own sets. So I can start developing… I’ll be working all week, but I’ll try and get into a rehearsal room over the weekend, before work, to talk outloud. That’s that. Gotta fly.

Listen to what this Hollywood guru told me

The IRS is requesting documents, so I’m annoyed AF, so annoyed because I feel like I needed to pay in installaments this year which triggered them behind the scenes, and so, luckily, I’m fine, I have everything, it’s going to take me a couple of hours, but I’m annoyed, because I pay an accountant, so it’s like, WHY am I getting this LETTER? You know??? I filed TAXES. Drives me crazy. So, I’m cleaning up my internal revenue arena, and there’s nothing grave here, honestly, it seems, but coming back to the United States has been bumpy, which I was prepared for, mentally, and ACTING LIKE — thinking about this GURU — I just have to meditate and NOT CREATE that reality is somewhat ridiculous. Imagine? Me in front of the goddamn military saying, look, let us collectively meditate on this being A SYNCH? In a sense? The military would be like, you’re delusional. Maybe we could perform soe collective — meditation, but it’s like, probably I was going to shake a little, so again, luckily, I’m pretty on point with my finances in that regard.

This morning on my walk, I just remembered the fucking Hollywood guru — I called him on the phone when I started going through a panic attack or something, which ended up being horrific, pain in my hips, and because he was a PSYCHIC — because he acted like he had SUPREME senses that required NO question from him on his end — I said, “what’s happening?” When he picked up the phone. He said, without hesitation: “don’t you think you were scared?” “What?” “When you suddenly ended up living in another house?” You see what I mean? He didn’t ask a QUESTION, “I don’t know, what is happening?” HE then said, “you’re probably going to be going through experiences…” IMAGINE? I hate this man. HE DECIDED I was repressed and he indirectly encouraged me down this road. I could slap him, his sister, his brother, BEL AIR itself — across the fucking face.

I’m telling you—with THIS one, I could smash his windows. I could SMASH his property. HOW DARE him?

You’re probably going to go through EXPERIENCES?

It’s shit like this, this guru psychedelic crap, “what do YOU know about THAT?”

I could kill this guy.

What HE did was insane.

I came from a background.

I’m telling EVERYBODY.

All this ethereal crap — WHAT EXACTLY is repression? What the hell does this MAN know about that? He knows NOTHING. His FEELING is bullshit. I was blwon away looking back on this… because I didn’t see it at all. I don’t know what to do this second, but that was insane. And if I see SAM, I ain’t pretending like I even want to fucking SEE HER. She introduced me to LUNATICS! I swear to God, if i get on a real mic, mother fucker, I’m going to BLOW. And it’s bigger than this asshole, it’s the whole I’m psychic, an empath, repressed trauma WHATEVER.

“You might be going through these experiences…”

“WHAT?”

He’s number one on my shit list, this Hollywood guru. Number one. And look, my Neapolitan cousins my witness, if you FUCK with a Neapolitan, beware. Because we don’t give a shit. If I see that MAN, I’m going to BLOW. You know? Going quietly into the night, laughing at Sorrentino, imagining him, a Neapolitan, thinking about a Neapolitan who was manipulated, and going quietly into the night? Not happening. This is not Silent Night — we do not sing that song here. We sing MY WAY by Frank Sinatra. Our capacity to get UPSET is ANCIENT and COSMIC. I couldn’t even believe this man, looking back on all this? Was he retarded?

The man called me CARL JUNG, okay? He’s NUMBER ONE. Number one on my shit list. Disgusting.

Alright, I can't do it

I woke up this morning, at 8:30, because it doesn’t matter when I go to bed, I’m going to wake up always around this time. I can’t help that. So, I tried working at a bar for a couple of days, and I just can’t do it. I love them, I love the bar, but I’m feeling pretty wrecked this morning, and their other location is much easier on me. I can’t work until 4 AM. I don’t want to be around alcohol, I can’t totally take the high energy, my nerves. I feel exhausted today and I have to work this evening. I have an audition tomorrow too. I don’t know what to say, but that’s a no, and I wish I listened to my body actually because I had such a strong reaction — like, no. But I tried it, I told myself to be a little open here, and I came out of the test run extremely clear about it. It’s a no. It’s going to take a second to figure out my life, for sure, not to say that “things can’t click magically” — remembering the stupid guru, like my mindset is driving everything and everything, but I don’t have a problem with that, however that thinking made me feel utterly crazy, and it was NOT my problem. I truly hate the guru, I do, I still do — I want to take a bat and smash his windows. I couldn’t even believe how that man treated me. I don’t give a shit, not in his case.

And look, right now, I have to take care of myself, so I have to keep finding better jobs, so I don’t have any real loyalty right now to anyone, especially when it comes to restaurants. I don’t actually want to be here, personally, working in a restaurant, but I have to, right now, and in the spirit of making as much money as I can, I need to work somewhere that’s going to allow me to get a full-time job. I’m going to have to make as much money as I can, it doesn’t matter if MILLIONS of dollars can fall from the sky, normally, all that takes some time. Julia Roberts made, 50k? On Mystic Pizza? I hated this guru, he was the worst thing that ever happened to me. And let him now become the BEST, I don’t know why. That’s how I’m supposed to approach adverse experiences. It’s not the EASIEST, necessarily, making a bunch of money? If you really think about it. And this man who invested my money in crypto, he utterly failed. He made me nothing. In fact, I don’t even know why he did what he did, like investing my money in the way he did was stupid. I get my stupid ex got lucky, and he made an extra 200k which to me, that’s a lot of money. If I had 200k right now in the bank, I would be feeling much better about myself. I have nothing. I’m not 20, either, I’m 40. I made absolutely stupid decisions, and the people I got involved with got their panties, yeah, the guru, he most certainly got his panties in a twist over a stupid childhood, which only makes him look — retarded. I was NOT “that person.”

Degrading. Sure I was Lady Gaga, I don’t understand this man, I was capable of making it, he wanted to jack off, basically. That wasn’t my problem. He only made my life worse. He didn’t bring me anything positive, nothing.

Anyway, another rant about that jerk. I’m going to have to borrow a bit of money this week, just to get through the end of the month, I think, I’ll see tomorrow when I get paid, but I’m a little nervous with the auditions I had to pay for. For the moment, maybe something else will pop up, that I’ll feel it necessary to jump into, but I think I’m going to take a step back and get into a rehearsal room and work the material for my open mics, think about a show, and catch up on this “get an agent” class, as I have to get scenes together, tape myself, and research who would be a good agent for me. But more so than anything else, I have to figure out my finances, fast. I don’t want to work for peanuts, and that’s what I make, as a writer. I don’t feel like I have a beat, and no, who gives a shit about my family? I don’t even care to talk about my journey — I mean my relationship with that guru was — horrific. It was 100% terrible. Why would I want to spend time with that man? He wasn’t exactly warm, he wasn’t exactly talkative, and I don’t trust him, I do not trust that man, at all. He was a superior, deranged, yeah, man. If he thinks that was a nice move he made, he’s not in tune with reality, at all, and he should stop meditating so much. It’s not helping.

Anyway, I wonder what his reputation is. I wonder how people feel about him.

So I lost everything. I lost my money. Over time, too, that was so stupid. I have no idea why these people encouraged me to spend that money AT ALL. These money hungry plant people, these psychedelic people, they were so money hungry, sure, they gave discounts, even let people do it for free, but again, if I was the “poorest one” there, why was I there? And why was I always paying? I absolutely hate these people. I think they’re full of shit. I don’t even care about writing that much, to be frank, and okay, so I could be famous? That’s the feedback I got, vaguely speaking? Okay, that was stupid and unnecessary. I keep working on books, on a book, but I don’t find this exercise straight forward, at all, so I wish that people would shut the fuck up, and not project all over a person the second they appear. WHO wants to be treated like that? I’ll keep figuring that out, and I don’t even think that my mindset is bad, poor, I was shocked — I still am — that my life unfolded like it did.

And if it turns out to be true about my parents, I don’t even know how to remotely talk about that, and these men were totally idiots again, as they didn’t even HEAR what I was saying. Putting that story “out there,” stupid guru, caused me more problems than it was worth. I’ve been trying to use social media, and I’ll continue to, I don’t know, see how it might help me? But the guru telling me to get on social media — I hate this man. Even when I got out of the hospital, that man, it seemed, ONLY wanted to mess with my life. Why would you tell someone who just got out of the hospital, after spending months mentoring this person to the point of death, quite frankly, to get on social media, now. Why would you encourage that person to travel? I’m telling you, that man was mentally ill. Like sometimes, I get — I don’t know how this man could have taken advantage of me, sexually, except we had a drink, typically, after our meals. I just went through so much, and when you’re already wondering if your own parents took advantage of you, who’s someone else?

I was not ASKING for his career advice, and no one should take it.

So I had to go through a fair amount of heartache and pain. WHY? You know? I look around, and I think, there are very attractive people out there in the world, very successful, so I don’t understand why these men felt like what THEY did was going to help me at all or I’m just astounded at these gross men. Why me? Because I came from a background and I was too nice? If you have a problem with my personality, that’s not my problem. I’m just sad, these days, because I have to admit, I feel at a loss — I don’t want to write, exactly, though I’m working on writing, I don’t want it to be my job, and I haven’t built anything. That was hard to realize. All the same, I was trying to think last night, at the bar, with music blasting, what do I want to do? What I can do writing wise. What I can do work wise that has any kind of mobility, any kind of growth potential. No offense, but I will be fifty in ten years. I don’t want to be poor, I am poor — now. I wasn’t POOR ten years ago, my ex was such an asshole. Nothing but — people wanting to strip me of my power, nothing. I mean, just the stupidest decade. Not fun at all. What a retard, this guru, “spend your IRA money” to complete a book? What kind of lunacy? Money is pretty real, isn’t it? If it weren’t, why would the GURU keep such a strong hold on it? Why not just spend it? If it’s so easy to make? He’s not acting like that. So why did he act that way with me?

I couldn’t believe these older friends of mine — they were stupid. There was literally no point in spending the money I had. I feel so stupid, it’s hard, sometimes, it really is, I feel so dumb. Now I have to figure out how I’m going to make money, for real. I look at my friends, too, the people I chose to be friends with, and they just look pretty stupid to me, I’m sorry to say that, where my friend has no money at 40, too, and her parents still support her, and I’m just shocked, not everyone is interested in money, I understand, but when I think about my friends, some of them, I go, “yeah I’m not that big of a fan.” One of my friends has done really well for himself, so. I still can, I know that, I know I can make money, I just don’t know how. I’m going to try a couple of avenues, I’ll work on a digital product, right now, I’m thinking “how to write a memoir” mostly just learning from my own mistakes. “Do not take the book out of your head,” this was soooooooo stupid. STUPID. Just read. “A book is a psychological object,” this Hollywood guru was deranged. I don’t know how he writes his scripts. I just look back and go, why are you so obsessed with manifesting? Bending reality? I just don’t understand it. It was a bit too much there, like it’s time to stop playing Zelda. I’m going to see if I can make money online, somehow, and I think I’m going to prioritize that, over books, or my creative projects right now as that’s, I don’t know, that didn’t help that much, I mean I’m still working on them, but I do not want to be broke, I do not want to work in a restaurant, I do not want to be here. I don’t have a family of my own, like who gives a shit, I don’t have kids, and I have no money, like no money, so my life feels pretty much like failure right now. This is NOT how I wanted to feel. And when I look back on some of these relationships, I only want to hug myself, that’s it, like I’m so sorry, because I got involved with weirdos, truly, true weirdos.

So I gotta make money, I gotta prioritize money, and I have to keep figuring out how I’m going to turn this decade around, but for the moment, I do not want to work in that bar, that was a no. I thought if it was a real club, or something, somewhere where I could make real money, that would be a different story. I got a job offer to be a financial advisor, hilariously enough, and I decided not to go through this training, and commit, because I needed to evaluate how I wanted to move forward, and they would pay for my certification process, it’s a career change, most definitely, but they all seemed so so nice. Nice people, talkative, warm. Their door is always open, they said, and now I’m wondering if I should take the interview and see how I feel. I get sad, though, because I didn’t want to live my life like this. I had a lot to offer, I felt, actually, now I don’t know. I just mean, I don’t know what to do. I’m still kinda shocked at how I feel, generally.

I need a day job, even, because I have to network, I have to meet people, I need to go out, more, actually, I think. I have to figure out — I don’t want to settle, I don’t want my life to feel that way, and so, I’m trying to just keep moving. I’m almost 40. If I simply didn’t touch the money I had, I could have bought a house, at all, even one to flip, I probably could have done that way back there. It’s like, who cares about supporting a writing career like that? I wish I had had a different attitude towards that money, and I’m still grieving it, because I feel so terrible, I really do, I feel so terrible, so I’m going to try my best to figure out my finances.

So I’m done today, I’m trying not to do this too much, but I have to figure out what I’m doing, and I gotta look for jobs, I don’t know what to do. I don’t even have a house. And so I totally failed, I really did, and I got involved with destructive forces, and it’s hard for me to accept, basically. I have to get a coffee and go for a walk, actually, and try not to get too sad. I need to keep carving a way, I have to keep trying to think smart, as a smart person, how do I flip this situation? To my advantage. In a sense, I feel that potential, like, something could switch, actually, and I might be able to find myself where I’d like to be. Maybe I should think that way, and see what might come up. Like, my EPIC piece, that makes sense, as I’d theoretically like to go into film, you know? Things to think about.

Tossing and turning this evening

It’s hard for me to go to sleep this evening after that first shift. I’m up, I’m drinking hot milk, I don’t want to be here. I actually wish I just said no, I don’t want to work at this location. I would rather stay in the original spot I was working. All that to say, I’m figuring out life right now, as the panelist suggested that we do, first, before anything else. Figure out what’s going to support your efforts. I hate everyone, right now, not the people I work for, not at all, but the people I got involved with. But it’s temporary. That I know. I established. I made that super clear. I’m just filling in until he finds a permanent replacement. And I just have to keep moving fast. I need to calm down and go to sleep. It was so unnecessary — I think back on these men I ended up spending time with, and I just do not understand it. I suppose it looked shiny, in some capacity, like these men thought THEY could teach ME a thing or two? Absurd. I got caught up in power plays — stupid ones. So I’m having a rough evening, tonight, but I’m going to wake up and apply for some new jobs — just to keep the momentum moving forward — I hate this screenwriter I met with a passion. A total lunatic. Not safe. That was not a safe man. Anyway, I wish I had something I could take to help me sleep. I have to sleep so I can close tomorrow. I really don’t want to. So, again, I’ll plough through, I’ll keep looking, I’ll keep trying to think about this moment, this moment in my journey as a bridge, I’m getting some assistance from the universe, in stirring me up, I don’t want to be here, I need to change my priorities momentarily. I need to find another job. So that’s it, let me rest a while. I just need to find another job. I hate anxiety, it’s just, the other job is so much calmer. I can’t do this. I wish I had someone right now, a boyfriend, I just hate this past decade, I keep saying that, and everyone I met. Even today, my friend Jo and I both expressed how much we hate my ex, like, the psychedelic thing, why? Why did I have to go down that road? We both hate that guy. I hate that guy. It’s momentary. And worse comes to worse, I say, look, I tried it, and I really don’t like it, what can I do? I’m just being honest, because, you know, I’m so positive, and I reached out about working there again, and the other place is much calmer and much more my speed. However, it’s temporary, I keep repeating, I just hope that I will make more money there, if I’m going to stay up later, and work a machine. I’m going to try and go to bed now. There’s a happy ending, version, I know, of this story. Mine. There is a happy ending, and that’s what I seek the most. I did not deserve these men. I did not deserve these people. Users. After this tight weekend, I’m going to prioritize my basics, which I am, but I need to prioritze whatever’s going to make me money. Real money. The guru was the worst thing that ever happened to me. These older men who came into my life the past decade, I just didn’t any of them.

I just need to keep taking deep deep breaths, because I have no idea how I got here. And I’m going to stick to my plan, because in the end, in reflecting back on it, I need to be in my own space a minute. I didn’t need to walk for hours and then work for hours on my feet. Thinking back to my friend. I just didn’t need that. I need to look forward, and keep figuring out this immediate moment. So off to try and calm down and sleep. I want to fall in love, I really do. I didn’t want men who wanted to help me, what woman would?

First shift

Alright, I just completed another shift at another restaurant bar as the restaurant I work for in a part of a small group in New York. They’re a group that’s under the radar, though they are known in their industry. But they thought, my bosses, that if I split my time between these two locations, I would make more money that way, and for the moment, who cares? I’m in need of it, and they genuinely like me and respect me, and the second location would be temporary. That’s the way I want to keep it. So I laid down a boundary around it, and so, I’ll only be there short term. It’s just until they find a more permanent replacement, as someone unexpectedly left, and people typically work with this company for years, which reflects positively on them, so an opening suddenly opened before I even started at this other restaurant, you see, and with that location, I thought, “no,” I’m going to keep that at bay, actually, so I might be there a couple of weeks, a month, but I imagine they’ll cover their bases quickly, and I’m extremely transparent, I can’t even help it, I’m so honest, and tonight, I wondered, I need to take a breath, I’m a touch too honest. I don’t need to prepare and plan, and consider the other, strangely, lol, I realized. My boss, a very attractive guy, sort of otherworldly looking, actually, like he could appear in a fantasy flick, he’s sort of unmoveable, not sensitive at all, so his chill groundness stirred me up a little, as there’s no problem with that guy, zero, that guy has zero problems, and that’s a little goal, right there. This guy. So the spot is just a touch too intense, I prefer the other location, and I have to be able to keep my objectives in mind. I don’t want to get roped in, essentially. I have to get out of the situation I’m in, not stay, I have to keep moving. And that’s what I keep telling myself. I’m going to keep looking for jobs, too, even other restaurant jobs, not because I don’t like them, but if I have to do it, I have to keep my horizons open for places where I could make more money, even. I don’t know what that means, but I want to make real money. So I’m going to have to — build. And that happens over time, which is the piece of advice I had received through all the spiritual bullshit I heard. We build over time. Doesn’t matter, how much you make. And I was blown away, just blown away by these so-called geniuses and their so-called wisdom. Like if all you have to say about me is that, I’m psychic, like this is what I amounted to, no offense, but I thought — wow, of all the…

It’s hard to explain. As a psychic, supposedly, one of the most psychic people on Planet Earth, this is what these people, MEN, told me, you’re afforded one life. That’s it. There’s wisdom there, even from the perspective of the soul, meaning, you’re in it for the long-run, you’re going on a journey, but you have one. And to me, your life is s series of choices, so just remember, you’re making them. It doesn’t have to be that way, most of the time, no one is making you do anything, so take caution, as to who you let in, especially if you come from a complicated debut, because, if my experience taught me anything, it’s that, you might not even get it, what it is you’re doing, not at all, like your whole life id designed to hold you back, your whole life is not good enough, literally. The relationships you’re choosing aren’t helping you.

t can’t change where I am, but I can move fast, that’s what I keep telling myself. I walked down 8th Avenue in the West Village, I felt like I was a smart person, and there are a lot of people out there who aren’t, smart, and I really wasn’t, not in my opinion, smart, and I still struggle with anger, because I met false wisemen, truly, just people with problems, even if they had money or whatever, other people have money out there… who aren’t interested in “mentoring” me or whatever this strange shadow was… why? I’m special? Look, I haven’t done anything yet, and are you attracted to me? Then why are you treating like this? So what was this? I didn’t understand these men. You believed I was a genius artist? Why not just say that? Make a phone call. Why was he giving me drugs? I mean, why was I doing psychedelics with him? Like I didn’t, um, I’m not this person. I’m not going to do drugs with you. I’ll meet you for tea. And I’M actually AWARE that drugs affect you, beyond when you take them, so it was obvious that it wasn’t working for me. Again, I got the picture, they had STRONG feelings about me, and I don’t know what to say about that because that’s the weirdest response. It’s like the guy who whipped out his dick at me on Instagram messenger when I asked about a sublet, like, why can’t a guy just ask me out on a date, something normal?

So I feel like I’m still unprogramming myself a little bit, where I can’t quite trust anyone or anything, and I don’t really want to be here, at this time of my life, so I have to keep moving. I have to overwork a moment to recuperate financially. Sure, everything’s going to work out, I can bend reality, with my mind, but I hated these men, I really did. I was angry at myself, I really was, I still am — angry at myself. I don’t care about accolades, in a sense, I’m not Dr. J. And yet this women haunted me, sometimes, in men, too, these men — these crazy dudes. Get over yourself. That was the major note, the major piece of feedback I’m giving back to these men…. these older men…. and it wasn’t even sexual. Why am I here? Truly speaking. Like sure, my childhood was crazy, but relax. Relax, generally.

So I’m taking a deep breath, because I need money, it’s immediate, and I need to spend a month landing, making money somewhere, and keep looking for work, keeping hustling, there’s nothing I can do about where I’m at, and I’ll probably be saying that for a moment, because I have to build, I have to expand my mind, obviously, I have to keep reaching, that’s a basic point. I’m a structuralist, I see how as an architecture, it’s not a design, it’s physical, and I believe in responses, I do, like you keep building, and magic can happen, in a sense, but action is what makes that happen, thought, yes, I think your thoughs play into your sense of focus, how you’re moving through the world, what you notice. I have to keep going, I have to finish the work I’m writing, and I think the chapter I posted from Xmas in Naples is a Sport is good, that was closer to my vision for it.

So I feel as though I’m moving along, and yes, anything can happen, sure, theoretically, a job could burst into existence, that’s just a strange way to live, but I’m holding a space for that too, I’m trying to think creatively as to how I can make real money, but that’s the basic goal. I don’t know how else to put that. So think about that. Because, if you’re around people who want you to deplete your resources — beware. These people might not be so aware, as they think they are. I met false wisemen. The wisemen I met did not aide me, this was a false chapter, I don’t even know HOW I ended up there, to be frank. I was not an aesthetic person, exactly, it’s hard to describe, in the higher realm of thinking, the psychedelic group I was in, that was a strange detour. WHY are you even letting me do this? It was strange.

I keep moving forward. For the moment, I’m going to finish this EPIC piece, because I’d love to get into film, and I’m going to get back into performing step by step. I have to get basically settled, I have to keep myself on my toes, so I have three auditions coming up, and I have to jump in, not hesitate, not be totally prepared, even, but next step is — signing up for an acting class so I can work a little bit, and I’ll be in a rehearsal space, speaking out loud, working on material, just shifting focus a moment, taking a second to consider what I’ve learned and work on material, prioritize that, and continue putting myself out there as much as I can.

Keep myself on my toes. Keep getting OUT of the situation I’m in. Don’t stay. Just keep my focus beyond this step. It’s a plateau, if that makes sense, a point of stability, which was something I needed, and it wasn’t that hard, it was even essential, to FIND stability. It wasn’t that hard. You are where you are, but you don’t have to stay there, so I feel like I’m in the place I wish I was when I was young. It helps to write during this time, to digest my experiences as I’m seeking to make big changes in my life, so I can continue to navigate and negotiate what it is that I have to do, and what it is I want to do, how I want my life to look, so I don’t get too comfortable. So hopefully this other job will speed my efforts up, like I have to priortize finding the job I want, another kind of plateau, so my night work becomes something else. I need to make extra money, I need to save money. I can’t change that I wasn’t POOR, do you understand? Again, the choices i made over the past fifteen years, I just, found these wisemen I met to be stupid, they weren’t that invested in me, no one is, though they put on a show, hard to explain, I didn’t need their guidance, I needed something else entirely. Basic.