i feel bad. and i haven't blogged for a while, which was both good and bad, but there's stuff i wrote -- i just didn't post it. why.
I'm at altar boy's house. he's asleep. i'm angry and twisted and anxious and ...sad? maybe. mostly angry and anxious.
i'm off all the meds. feedback, please. effexor fucked me up completely. i got hives all over my body. it SUCKED. and now i've been OFF it for...3 weeks maybe? and the hives are still not completely gone. thank god i googled "effexor hives" and found others who had had them. thank god for the internet. seriously. the doctors are like "wha-aat? hmmm. never heard of it."
so getting everything cleaned out of my system. no drugs. now i want to start the natural stuff. st john's wort. sam-e? others? Dr. Weil's cocktail? gotta research it but would LOVE anyones input.
so am i feeling angry/anxious cause of the lack of meds? is this depression?
i'm pissed off. mostly at fucking work which is an exploitative sweatshop. as a colleague said: I might as well be working in a sneaker factory in Indonesia. At least there I'd have health care.
so PISSED off at them. HATE them, and hate myself for not changing my job situation. and for fucking other things up. like apparently i didn't pay my premium and my health insurance has been cancelled. FUCK!! I do not normally do crazy stupid shit like that. i'm really responsible. and i didn't file taxes this year. i haven't admitted that to anyone. i didn't do it intentionally. i just didn't do it. fuck fuck fuck. no idea what to do now. feedback WELCOME.
and tonight went badly cause altar boy got slightly drunk and talked forever about the girl he tried to have a relationship with recently. which was very very painful for me. and i let him talk cause i kind of want to just know. it's better than mystery. but fuck . fuck them both. i hate that i saw a picutre of them looking happy. relaly happy. like they were having fun fun fun. well, he was. she looked less radiant.
and just angry at the world. or myself. but things have been so ok!
i've had all these ideas. great ideas. exciting ideas. and i've contacted people about them, and thought of options, and brainstormed, and talked about making stuff happen.
and since the last post, I had a really great show -- which people loved. I was called "a fine actor." I am.
and surfer seems to be over over over, which i'm REALLY SAD about. i keep getting my heart broken. it's true. in small ways. like altar boy was breaking my heart in little ways. and Surfer really fucking broke my heart, even if the entire arc from potential to crushed was something like 2 weeks. maybe 3. i was so hopeful. i get so hopeful. so excited. i was excited about the musician (A), then about the editor (Y), then a little excited about the comedian (E) -- but not as big as the musician -- and then SO excited about surfer. fuck . i'm just sad. and angry.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
compassion and funnies
ok so its The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, and how funny is this: reading Deborah Solomon's interview with Ted Sorensen (speechwriter to JFK) in the NYT magazine just cheered me up immensely. Hmmmmmm???? what is that about? partly cause he's humble and funny!!!! why does that make such a difference! while i'm still panicked that BB hasn't emailed/texted/called me and i'm desperately afraid that he isn't going to want me anymore. and i've been paralyzed and not "getting anything done" which is a phrase i want to never use again in my entire entire life. ever. ever. i promise. and i don't work on my performances. i play with them. and i don't GET THINGS DONE. fuck that. today i want to seek pleaseure, feel joy, take any step, "what is the most loving thing i can do for myself now???" clearly not obsess over the boy. give him love somehow. let him go?????? compassion, generosity, treasuring. openness. open-handed, not clenching. open me. open my hands to the universe. give myself. and give myself to me. what is the most loving thing i can do for myself?? play with Esther!!!! send out the email???? fun! exciting! call S about B. that's not "getting things done" -- though it is. and it makes me feel calmer. but its taking action on something that I CARE ABOUT. making my life easier. get the BB software glitch fixed. get a charger???? charge at the Gdfather's? took my Effexor. well done. look at list, i guess. oh, call for tix. ok. see email. ok. not getting thimgs done?
The Snowboarder and my paralysis
sounds like that movie: butterfly/bell/something?? i'm so tense. all tensed up. i'm obsessed with Snowboarder because it's easier to focus on him than on me. the eternal danger. and now its alredy noon and i'm fucked. and scared and hate myself already. so what what what do i do with the hate myself? write out of it? hate seals me in screws me down into nothingness into the ground squeezing me smaller and smaller and forcing all the air out, until i'm nothing and can be ground down, buried under the dirt, where i don't have to exist at all and can't be hurt anymore. nothing soft left to hurt. its protection. small tight nasty hard angry safe misery stillness nonexistence. the absolute antithesis of action. movement WHICH HURT TO EVEN WRITE. I HATE THEM. THEY HURT HURT HURT HURT HURT. FUCK FUCK FUCK EVERYTHING. FUCK THIS PAIN. NOW I WANT TO EAT TO FILL THE PAIN IN MY GUT. FUCCK THE WORLD. FUCK MY POOR SAD PARENTS FOR MAKING ME SCARED OF EVERY GODDAMN FUCKING THING. FUCK THE DUDE FOR NOT WRAPPING ME UP AND MAKING ME SAFE. THAT'S ALL I WANT ALL I WANT AND THEN I GET ALTAR BOY AND THEN I DESPISE HIM. CAUSE ITS not what i want but thats hard to write. small. scary. i want bigger. happier. i want upward motion and outward and glory. i can be glory. it's the opposite of all this, and its in me too, deep deep deep in a molten core that feels hidden a lot of the time. and thyme. pinched held mouth. makes me feel safe. safe. safe. from fear fear fear. held breath. breathing a little more now. so, writing. emerging from a chrysalis, breaking through, struggling out wet and new but NOT WEAK! TINY AND WIRY AND STRONG!! and immediately opened and generous and full, carried on the wind. soaring, accepting the world and showing it beauty. breathing it in and out. so much a part of the air and sky and earth and flowers. and beings. all of them. breathing, working, loving. i have a love: performing. showing my soul to other humans. other beings. being naked and vulnerable. that was the best conversation with Beautiful Boy yet. pouring out the vision of nakedness on stage and confrontation and exposure and engagement and art and ideas and connection...and him loving it! and getting it! i need that so much. altar boy would have been uncomfortable and afraid. it's the NO FEAR. that is what i love about BB. No Fear. none. i have that in me too, so ironically. under the ENORMOUS CONCRETE MASS OF FEAR is No Fear. Fearless. its' only ever about that. huh.
writing is a comfort zone. it lest me go through all this in utter complete safety. mmmmm. safe. snug. i love those words. mmmm. and, of course, i'm desperate for Beautiful Boy to call me, text me, email me. please. please. please. why would you not contact me???????????? something has to be wrong. and then i think: see? fucked up. he's young. he's nowhere near the stage you're at. he does these things like not calling you back at all. what the fuck is that? immaturity. so this will never work. and maybe it won't. and i'll be HURT again. scary scary scary. i think i really want him. even without the enormous brain. oy. ugh. scary. damn.
and then i feel bad for being so self-obsessed. JS needs a call about her mother. or regular emails. and B needs calls about michael. and Godfather sounds like he needs me. and JA keeps calling and blah blah blah. and i haven't seen spike and messychic. i feel bad. bad. and then there's the critic again. i'm bad. nah nah nah nah nah. bleh. stupid. useless. dumb elf.
and i'm about to spend all this money on a weekend when i think i can just do it with the book??????? but maybe not!!!!!!
oy. i'm doing a women's retreat weekend. a two-day workshop on having what you want. mmmm. here but working all day. that's what i'll say. that's it. not around. mmmmmmm. do i go home to my man that night? is he over???????????? fear.
but it doesn't need to be fear. (i wish i had the damn book here. either one!!!) so Carole was B's guidess! funny. but it doesn't need to be fear. i can feel bad and know that it's ok. it's ok to feel bad. i can feel scared about BB and know that I AM STILL OK i'm still me, either way. though i feel humiliated by mr smartypants last year. and the goddamn boat boy the year before that. how do i emerge from, integrate, fold through me, the humiliation?????? so that it's fine, its good, it's experience, it's choice, it's the beautiful failure i get from being brave and taking risks and pursuing what i want and being vulnerable and making myself open and in need and in want and soft and honest and how do i not feel stupid and small.
writing is a comfort zone. it lest me go through all this in utter complete safety. mmmmm. safe. snug. i love those words. mmmm. and, of course, i'm desperate for Beautiful Boy to call me, text me, email me. please. please. please. why would you not contact me???????????? something has to be wrong. and then i think: see? fucked up. he's young. he's nowhere near the stage you're at. he does these things like not calling you back at all. what the fuck is that? immaturity. so this will never work. and maybe it won't. and i'll be HURT again. scary scary scary. i think i really want him. even without the enormous brain. oy. ugh. scary. damn.
and then i feel bad for being so self-obsessed. JS needs a call about her mother. or regular emails. and B needs calls about michael. and Godfather sounds like he needs me. and JA keeps calling and blah blah blah. and i haven't seen spike and messychic. i feel bad. bad. and then there's the critic again. i'm bad. nah nah nah nah nah. bleh. stupid. useless. dumb elf.
and i'm about to spend all this money on a weekend when i think i can just do it with the book??????? but maybe not!!!!!!
oy. i'm doing a women's retreat weekend. a two-day workshop on having what you want. mmmm. here but working all day. that's what i'll say. that's it. not around. mmmmmmm. do i go home to my man that night? is he over???????????? fear.
but it doesn't need to be fear. (i wish i had the damn book here. either one!!!) so Carole was B's guidess! funny. but it doesn't need to be fear. i can feel bad and know that it's ok. it's ok to feel bad. i can feel scared about BB and know that I AM STILL OK i'm still me, either way. though i feel humiliated by mr smartypants last year. and the goddamn boat boy the year before that. how do i emerge from, integrate, fold through me, the humiliation?????? so that it's fine, its good, it's experience, it's choice, it's the beautiful failure i get from being brave and taking risks and pursuing what i want and being vulnerable and making myself open and in need and in want and soft and honest and how do i not feel stupid and small.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
yum
i am a little bit in love with Surfer Dude. Who rightly should be called Snowboarder Dude. Or Peace Corps dude. Or Sustainable Agriculture Dude. Or, crazily enough: Fencer Number Two. Yes, you heard me. What the hell does that mean, I hear you say? Well, aside from the other cool things about him (see above), this beautiful boy, it turns out, is a COMPETITIVE FENCER, and if that isn't weird enough, he's the SECOND competitive fencer I have dated in as many months. now, that, you have to admit, is weird. i'm not sure i've ever even met a real fencer before. where did i suddenly find TWO? and i wouldn't even think i'd like fencers. in fact, Fencer Number One, referred to in this post, TKTK, seemed to me to fit my image of fencers, which is why i didn't really like him. Arrogant. Pleased with himself. Narrowminded. Moneyed.
Fencer Number Two, on the other hand: Yum! Could not be sweeter and more humble if you drew him that way. What a lovely boy. Open. Excited. Searching. Warm. wow.
as i say. a little in love. so i'm blogging about him so as not to send him emails saying "i'm in love with you! i want to marry you and have your babies. RIGHT NOW. please? love me love me love me. i love your intensity. i love your vulnerability. i love your appreciation of life. and of me. i love your BODY. " oh my god that body. how did i possibly get so lucky to go to bed with a body like that and have it be attached to a smart, artistic, politically passionate, loving human soul????? YUMMMMMMMM.
what will happen. what will happen? interesting progression that has happened over the last few months during the Man Monsoon. Y has, rightly, dropped off. Lovely, lovely man, but not right for me, and not ready for what i'm ready for, and neither of us hurt the other, so that's nice. and resolved. E: saw him tonight. Am ready to end it. Have tried. (not to end it. to make it work, i mean.) And i did/do really like him in some ways. and was REALLY excited when i met him --- which of course is why i'm now wary of FNT (Fencer Number Two, for those of you not keeping up.). i'm so excited. and soon i could be unexcited. But E has very much not come through. He's so so guarded. defended. his kisses are really really lovely and a surprise, every time, after the un-intimacy of his conversation style. he's the right age. as was Y. and did pursue me, to his credit. as did Y. (i really cannot complain. yeah!) But i can't get past the guard. i know nothing of his deep feelings. nothing of his relationships. and tonight, i broached all sorts of conversation topics that were revealing of me, or engaging around things that are important to me, etc., and gave him all opportunities to jump in with real engagement and he definitely does not. he puts up Stop signs.
so good. that's clear anyway. I just have to tell him. this is not right.
now, of course, if/when FNT doesn't work out, i will feel crushed and wonder if i should somehow have given E more of a chance. but i think that makes no sense. i don't like it. I feel pushed away.
And Connecticut Muffin I gave the boot to yesterday. Definitely clear. i had NO NO NO desire to see him. he just bugged me and weirded me out. and i did try to let the discomfort be there and see if there was something underlying that (like the fact that he was pursuing hard, and telling me that he was thinking about me, etc.) But blehhhhhh. yuck. i wanted to like him and i absolutely couldn't. ick. And i think i told him in a very friendly and kind way and he said thank you for telling him and not just blowing him off, so i think that's ok.
Meanwhile, there was A, who I was still obsessing over. There are still things about him that i'm hot for. that feel really right for me. But i think he fairly clearly did not choose me. And I think he's seriously, like, 25. wacked. so that's the one i'm not totally resolved about because there are qualities that i WANT that he has like: Talent, and Drive, and Brains, and Yiddishe-Kopf, and nerdiness, and Jew-arama.
Meanwhile, IF FNT works out, i will be in heaven. maybe. who knows. and if he doesn't i'll torture myself about the other ones, probably.
so now's when i think i need to make that list of what's crucial. the one one one criterion i'm not secure about with FNT is brains. 'cause my standards of braininess are really really really high. i come from a mad brainy family with mad high-achieving men, and that feels like the norm, and like the only acceptable reality to me, so i need to really feel that for a while, and see if that means what it feels like it means. 'cause FNT is far from dumb. but he's clearly, clearly not academic in quite the way i crave. so i need to feel if that's OK. could that ever be OK? lucifer/hedon was really really smart in certain key ways, so that felt fine. godfather is really smart in good ways, too. so is altarboy. really brainy. The Cupcake is not quite as brainy in that way, though she's certainly smart and knowledgeable about certain things. and that feels clearly recognized in my family, and sort of seen as almost expected, because she's a girl, and because she's now the baby.
and what about Zexy Zabra, damn him. he seems so goddamn perfect but he took NO ACTION. which tells you something. and FNT took action. repeatedly.
oy oy oy. what is the answer. i want resolution. though i love this part two. and too. :) as FNT said Sunday night: the French say something like "the walk up the stairs is the best part." Mmmmmm. this is that part.
and i get to see him tomorrow.
oh. and i better just add in the interests of blogging honesty and facing my demons: here's the part i don't want to write about because it SCARES me.
..................................................................................................
.....................................................................
................................................
OK. suck it up.
He Sleeps With Men. He does. He is, "bisexual." Which i put in quotes because i'm NOT SURE I BELIEVE IT EXISTS IN MEN. Am I wrong?????????
It terrifies me. What does it mean that he finds men hot and actually has sex with them sometimes????? He clearly loved sex with me. and is hotly pursuing. so he does not feel gay. and sex was tender and intimate and he was ALL ABOUT going down on me, so that felt very not-gay. but then i'm confused. seriously. i get it in women. but i don't really see it in men. so i'm scared scared scared. and why would he want to give that up? and then how will he want a committed relationship with me? scary scary scary. scary scary.
so we shall see, i suppose. we shall see. very excited to see him tomorrow. and kiss him. and just talk to him. his email said that Sunday (our date!) was "wonderful." And that Monday (the morning after!) was "equally wonderful." i love that about him.
AND, oh, yeah, there's this: since there is unbelievable amounts of information -- and random, weird information -- about me on the web, and since he has my full name; there is no way that he doesn't know all that shit about me. specifically that i'm over 40. and he's not running. and i honestly am not sure why. oy the fear. i want to try to let that be a good, real thing about me, not a terrible humiliating one. it's hard. i'm going to meditate, breathe, on that.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxox
'night.
Fencer Number Two, on the other hand: Yum! Could not be sweeter and more humble if you drew him that way. What a lovely boy. Open. Excited. Searching. Warm. wow.
as i say. a little in love. so i'm blogging about him so as not to send him emails saying "i'm in love with you! i want to marry you and have your babies. RIGHT NOW. please? love me love me love me. i love your intensity. i love your vulnerability. i love your appreciation of life. and of me. i love your BODY. " oh my god that body. how did i possibly get so lucky to go to bed with a body like that and have it be attached to a smart, artistic, politically passionate, loving human soul????? YUMMMMMMMM.
what will happen. what will happen? interesting progression that has happened over the last few months during the Man Monsoon. Y has, rightly, dropped off. Lovely, lovely man, but not right for me, and not ready for what i'm ready for, and neither of us hurt the other, so that's nice. and resolved. E: saw him tonight. Am ready to end it. Have tried. (not to end it. to make it work, i mean.) And i did/do really like him in some ways. and was REALLY excited when i met him --- which of course is why i'm now wary of FNT (Fencer Number Two, for those of you not keeping up.). i'm so excited. and soon i could be unexcited. But E has very much not come through. He's so so guarded. defended. his kisses are really really lovely and a surprise, every time, after the un-intimacy of his conversation style. he's the right age. as was Y. and did pursue me, to his credit. as did Y. (i really cannot complain. yeah!) But i can't get past the guard. i know nothing of his deep feelings. nothing of his relationships. and tonight, i broached all sorts of conversation topics that were revealing of me, or engaging around things that are important to me, etc., and gave him all opportunities to jump in with real engagement and he definitely does not. he puts up Stop signs.
so good. that's clear anyway. I just have to tell him. this is not right.
now, of course, if/when FNT doesn't work out, i will feel crushed and wonder if i should somehow have given E more of a chance. but i think that makes no sense. i don't like it. I feel pushed away.
And Connecticut Muffin I gave the boot to yesterday. Definitely clear. i had NO NO NO desire to see him. he just bugged me and weirded me out. and i did try to let the discomfort be there and see if there was something underlying that (like the fact that he was pursuing hard, and telling me that he was thinking about me, etc.) But blehhhhhh. yuck. i wanted to like him and i absolutely couldn't. ick. And i think i told him in a very friendly and kind way and he said thank you for telling him and not just blowing him off, so i think that's ok.
Meanwhile, there was A, who I was still obsessing over. There are still things about him that i'm hot for. that feel really right for me. But i think he fairly clearly did not choose me. And I think he's seriously, like, 25. wacked. so that's the one i'm not totally resolved about because there are qualities that i WANT that he has like: Talent, and Drive, and Brains, and Yiddishe-Kopf, and nerdiness, and Jew-arama.
Meanwhile, IF FNT works out, i will be in heaven. maybe. who knows. and if he doesn't i'll torture myself about the other ones, probably.
so now's when i think i need to make that list of what's crucial. the one one one criterion i'm not secure about with FNT is brains. 'cause my standards of braininess are really really really high. i come from a mad brainy family with mad high-achieving men, and that feels like the norm, and like the only acceptable reality to me, so i need to really feel that for a while, and see if that means what it feels like it means. 'cause FNT is far from dumb. but he's clearly, clearly not academic in quite the way i crave. so i need to feel if that's OK. could that ever be OK? lucifer/hedon was really really smart in certain key ways, so that felt fine. godfather is really smart in good ways, too. so is altarboy. really brainy. The Cupcake is not quite as brainy in that way, though she's certainly smart and knowledgeable about certain things. and that feels clearly recognized in my family, and sort of seen as almost expected, because she's a girl, and because she's now the baby.
and what about Zexy Zabra, damn him. he seems so goddamn perfect but he took NO ACTION. which tells you something. and FNT took action. repeatedly.
oy oy oy. what is the answer. i want resolution. though i love this part two. and too. :) as FNT said Sunday night: the French say something like "the walk up the stairs is the best part." Mmmmmm. this is that part.
and i get to see him tomorrow.
oh. and i better just add in the interests of blogging honesty and facing my demons: here's the part i don't want to write about because it SCARES me.
..................................................................................................
.....................................................................
................................................
OK. suck it up.
He Sleeps With Men. He does. He is, "bisexual." Which i put in quotes because i'm NOT SURE I BELIEVE IT EXISTS IN MEN. Am I wrong?????????
It terrifies me. What does it mean that he finds men hot and actually has sex with them sometimes????? He clearly loved sex with me. and is hotly pursuing. so he does not feel gay. and sex was tender and intimate and he was ALL ABOUT going down on me, so that felt very not-gay. but then i'm confused. seriously. i get it in women. but i don't really see it in men. so i'm scared scared scared. and why would he want to give that up? and then how will he want a committed relationship with me? scary scary scary. scary scary.
so we shall see, i suppose. we shall see. very excited to see him tomorrow. and kiss him. and just talk to him. his email said that Sunday (our date!) was "wonderful." And that Monday (the morning after!) was "equally wonderful." i love that about him.
AND, oh, yeah, there's this: since there is unbelievable amounts of information -- and random, weird information -- about me on the web, and since he has my full name; there is no way that he doesn't know all that shit about me. specifically that i'm over 40. and he's not running. and i honestly am not sure why. oy the fear. i want to try to let that be a good, real thing about me, not a terrible humiliating one. it's hard. i'm going to meditate, breathe, on that.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxox
'night.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH
it hurts inside me. everything always hurts. BLEH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what the fuck. ok. feel the pain. feel it. i hate it and i resist it. contempt. that's what hurts me. i am sure that the world has contempt for me. even in small ways. pity and contempt. pity and bemusement and small amounts of scorn and contempt. wow. that's what i feel and it keeps me from living my life and doing what I WANT. FEAR FEAR FEAR of contempt. fear. of everyone else. need comfort. always and now. food. so much hiding. like i want to see Georgie, and i definitely want to see the kids, but not Spike and Messychic. Georgie feels no-pressure, somehow. nothing to account for. why?? everything in my world is tailored around not feeling pressured by someone else to be something i feel i can't measure up to. even Messychic feels unpressured but Spike feels like judgment. Call Godfather, by the way. He needs me i think. He definitely feels some pity and bemusement towards me. and a small dose of contempt. he would never say that. but in talking about me in the 3rd person, i could imagine that tiny bit of scorn coming in when he says "she just hasn't managed to pull her life together. why doesn't she pursue her connections? etc. " and that's so damaging to me, in my mind, somehow. though i also truly believe "what you think about me is none of my business." I LOVE THAT. it's just in your mind!!! in your mind. what the hell does that have to do with me?? nothing. it's like the buddhist: it doesn't exist except in your mind. so what the hell effect can it have on me? none!
Monday, March 24, 2008
butch/femme/man/woman/boi/grrl
i had a strange experience last night and i don't quite know what to say about it. i was at a dance party that was heavily queer. i love the vibe of that crowd but i definitely feel on the periphery of it. i'm pretty completely straight, sexually, and, at age 41, i feel like the whole queer/trans/"boi" scene is way after my time. (i mean we had ACT UP. this is a whole new world. Less anger, more sex.) I love how liberating that scene feels, how unbounded by convention or rules, how communal and supportive. I love dancing with men in drag. it feels liberating to me as well as to them. i know this is not original; there's a whole world of fag-hags out there. but i'm not really that cool. i more love this kind of scene, where it's men in drag AND women in drag -- or whatever you call it when androgynous young women suit themselves up just like guys. and there are women who are vamped up very femme, and women who are slicked down and butch. and men of both types. and some kind of communion among them all.
and. i think those really androgynous bois are incredibly sexy. i don't usually find women sexy, so then i've thought that i just find those aggressively androgynous bois hot because they look like men...but i think i just realized that i just think they're hot because of them. it's the self-assurance it takes (to look like that). and the ownership of being sexy, and strong, and male. when they're not -- male.
and then i get all confused....'cause i REALLY like men's bodies. i like hard, not soft. i love pecs, not breasts. and i like penetration, and specifically, i like the male package. i mean, i suppose dildos or strap-ons or whatever could be fun, but they definitely seem like a sad, distant second to the real thing. i like that real thing. which is why i've always felt irredeemably straight. i'm really not that interested in exploring another woman's parts. bleh.
though with the right woman .....but then, the whole outer look doesn't seem to jibe with the kind of human being i would feel comfortable having sex with...'cause sex with a woman scares me! so i need someone i feel safe with. and i don't think the whole boi thing is about feeling safe. it's about being hot.
and maybe i'm putting a bunch of restrictions and labels on something that doesn't need it. maybe this is where people just open up to possibilities and say: sometimes i like this, and sometimes i like that, and no need to decide.
SO HERE'S WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT. This guy/girl?/trans/something/person came on to me. and i got scared! but he/(she? s/he?) was sexy. and i'm intrigued. i think he's currently a guy (has a guy's name) but i don't think he was originally. and he was coming on to me, but had also been dancing all hot and sexy with a gay boy, so then i was confused about what he was! (why do i need these distinctions??? that's the whole point obviously!) it's weird how obsessed with distinctions i was: "but which ARE you? gay? straight? a boy? a girl?" "which body parts do you have????" I think that's the part i'm scared about. So he looks like a boy. Had nice hairy arms. But does he have the package?? I doubt it somehow. So then that feels like it would freak me out. A guy. with a girl's parts. Aagh! it's scary. it just is.
BUT. i thought he was sexy. definitely. and i danced with him. and he got all slow and sexy and close. and i liked it. but then as we were leaving, he seemed to be gearing up to ask me for a number or something, and i neatly avoided it and left. but then i wished i hadn't. but HERE'S what i was thinking: You're 27 or maybe 30. I'm 41. You're some alternate gender and revolving in this queer, alternative world. I want to get married and have babies. You think i'm your age ('cause that's what i look) and would be fun. But i think i might get home with you and then freak out. cause maybe i'm not as queer-friendly as i seem, dancing here with you.
so that's it. but now i wish i could sort of try it. BUT i feel like that's what it would be. experimentation. and that seems fucked up and unfair and cheap.
I WANT INPUT. could anyone give me input?? anything would help. thanks. (like -- what's the "right" thing to do in this situation? "yes, i'm kind of interested, but it might only be curiousity so i'm just warning you?") i don't know. somehow i feel weird about the whole thing, but also attracted.
i'm so not of that world, i'm like a fucking tourist, but i found this piece that helped, btw:
http://nymag.com/nymetro/news/features/n_9709/
and. i think those really androgynous bois are incredibly sexy. i don't usually find women sexy, so then i've thought that i just find those aggressively androgynous bois hot because they look like men...but i think i just realized that i just think they're hot because of them. it's the self-assurance it takes (to look like that). and the ownership of being sexy, and strong, and male. when they're not -- male.
and then i get all confused....'cause i REALLY like men's bodies. i like hard, not soft. i love pecs, not breasts. and i like penetration, and specifically, i like the male package. i mean, i suppose dildos or strap-ons or whatever could be fun, but they definitely seem like a sad, distant second to the real thing. i like that real thing. which is why i've always felt irredeemably straight. i'm really not that interested in exploring another woman's parts. bleh.
though with the right woman .....but then, the whole outer look doesn't seem to jibe with the kind of human being i would feel comfortable having sex with...'cause sex with a woman scares me! so i need someone i feel safe with. and i don't think the whole boi thing is about feeling safe. it's about being hot.
and maybe i'm putting a bunch of restrictions and labels on something that doesn't need it. maybe this is where people just open up to possibilities and say: sometimes i like this, and sometimes i like that, and no need to decide.
SO HERE'S WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT. This guy/girl?/trans/something/person came on to me. and i got scared! but he/(she? s/he?) was sexy. and i'm intrigued. i think he's currently a guy (has a guy's name) but i don't think he was originally. and he was coming on to me, but had also been dancing all hot and sexy with a gay boy, so then i was confused about what he was! (why do i need these distinctions??? that's the whole point obviously!) it's weird how obsessed with distinctions i was: "but which ARE you? gay? straight? a boy? a girl?" "which body parts do you have????" I think that's the part i'm scared about. So he looks like a boy. Had nice hairy arms. But does he have the package?? I doubt it somehow. So then that feels like it would freak me out. A guy. with a girl's parts. Aagh! it's scary. it just is.
BUT. i thought he was sexy. definitely. and i danced with him. and he got all slow and sexy and close. and i liked it. but then as we were leaving, he seemed to be gearing up to ask me for a number or something, and i neatly avoided it and left. but then i wished i hadn't. but HERE'S what i was thinking: You're 27 or maybe 30. I'm 41. You're some alternate gender and revolving in this queer, alternative world. I want to get married and have babies. You think i'm your age ('cause that's what i look) and would be fun. But i think i might get home with you and then freak out. cause maybe i'm not as queer-friendly as i seem, dancing here with you.
so that's it. but now i wish i could sort of try it. BUT i feel like that's what it would be. experimentation. and that seems fucked up and unfair and cheap.
I WANT INPUT. could anyone give me input?? anything would help. thanks. (like -- what's the "right" thing to do in this situation? "yes, i'm kind of interested, but it might only be curiousity so i'm just warning you?") i don't know. somehow i feel weird about the whole thing, but also attracted.
i'm so not of that world, i'm like a fucking tourist, but i found this piece that helped, btw:
http://nymag.com/nymetro/news/features/n_9709/
Saturday, March 22, 2008
perspective
i am so self-absorbed and stuck. AND I KNOW it does no good to hate myself. or even be angry with myself. or disgusted. or nauseated. or any of the other flavors. It doesn't help Spiky. It doesn't help G. It doesn't help anyone. So. Apparently Spiky was genuinely terrified about losing his job. That suddenly generates compassion in me instead of fear, defensiveness, bitterness, resentment. Those are all the things I often feel towards him. And he has no idea. And then he calls me and leaves such a sweet message on my phone. And tells me he misses me and wants to see me. And he can be so genuine and loving. just also so self-absorbed and judgmental. and my pissiness is all because I feel bad about myself. if i LOVED myself and was happy with what i was doing, and proud, and excited to share myself and my thoughts and my life with everyone else, then his stupid shit probably wouldn't bother me. Which is why Messychic loves him and doesn't feel judged or whatever by him. Cause she knows him and knows his terror and insecurity and passion. And I know him too but i put up a wall 'cause his judgmental-ness scares me. 'cause i don't measure up. but he doesn't even think that. but i do. ok. so that puts up a wall between me and someone who loves me. who wants me in his life. who is my old dear friend.
bleh.
and, again, the only solution is: radical acceptance. compassion towards myself. i love me. i care about me. hand on my heart. i am OK. loved. radiant. giving. just start now. every minute: just start now. start radiating. start feeling compassion for everyone else. start giving. start loving myself and letting myself have what i want. whatever whatever whatever i want. mmmmm.
bleh.
and, again, the only solution is: radical acceptance. compassion towards myself. i love me. i care about me. hand on my heart. i am OK. loved. radiant. giving. just start now. every minute: just start now. start radiating. start feeling compassion for everyone else. start giving. start loving myself and letting myself have what i want. whatever whatever whatever i want. mmmmm.
fear
i can't stop writing, and it's all fear. i read in someone's blog last night (can't remember whom! i'm sorry!) something like "Being a writer is 3% talent and 97% tearing yourself away from the internet." I LOVE THAT. so true. so ridiculously true. reading blogs is addictive, but it's addictive because it's escape. escape from my true feelings. taking a pause right now to feel them. go ahead. pause too. i'll be here when you get back.
pause. breathe. let my mouth open. i'm typing wiht my eyes closed. let my mouth relax. feel my legs. unclench my bum. breathe into my belly. let the breath fill my lungs. i feel myself. i feel afraid of lots of things.. afraid of calling G. i feel.....i feel my legs. relax my tongue. let fear in. OK. fear. come on in! come in. fear. you are me and i am you. fear can come in. pressure. tension. nervousnesss. artificiality. i don't like those. they will feel alienating. i don' tlike feeling alienated. alien. sigourney weaver. glen. i hate feeling cut off from other people. that's what i hate. the constant alienation. i wnat to crawl inside someone else's being. that's what godfather let me do. that's even what lucifer letme do. and altar boy only 1/2way. He's not really lucifer, but it does seem damn appropriate. but i don't want to think about him like that. he gave me so much. i think we'll call him Hedon!!!!!!!
pause. breathe. let my mouth open. i'm typing wiht my eyes closed. let my mouth relax. feel my legs. unclench my bum. breathe into my belly. let the breath fill my lungs. i feel myself. i feel afraid of lots of things.. afraid of calling G. i feel.....i feel my legs. relax my tongue. let fear in. OK. fear. come on in! come in. fear. you are me and i am you. fear can come in. pressure. tension. nervousnesss. artificiality. i don't like those. they will feel alienating. i don' tlike feeling alienated. alien. sigourney weaver. glen. i hate feeling cut off from other people. that's what i hate. the constant alienation. i wnat to crawl inside someone else's being. that's what godfather let me do. that's even what lucifer letme do. and altar boy only 1/2way. He's not really lucifer, but it does seem damn appropriate. but i don't want to think about him like that. he gave me so much. i think we'll call him Hedon!!!!!!!
hiding
i want days and days and days and days in which no one knows where i am. no one. that's what i LOVE about traveling by myself. utter and complete freedome. NOBODY knows where i am. or what i've seen. so if somehow, you could pack up your troubles, and give them all to me.....you will lose them, i know how to use them. give them all to me.[1] Anyway it's patently untrue. i don't know how to use them. i just drown in them. although in some ways i absolutely get that sentiment. i feel like i do know how to use people's sorrows. and they don't. weird idea. it's just that i get sorrow. i get it. with my whole being. but i don't have to be sorrow. it's such an identity, istn' it? and why are there so many of us?????????? is it the modern western world? or has this always been true? do people in traditional tribal Africa get depressed?? would anyone know? i know i just read an article about depression being just as common in rural india as here. but their lives also seem to follow the same structure/pressures/goals/assumptions as ours in many ways. Striving. feeling lacking. blah blah blah blah blah.
[1] that's Judy Collins, not me.
[1] that's Judy Collins, not me.
it's 2:45 pm
and i'm supposed to take the meds in the MORNING. but i don't want to take them. i only got up at noon. so this is the morning. but i have to eat first and i'm not hungry. am now moving from zoloft to effexor because zoloft has continued to make me SLEEPY six months in. Comments anyone?? i actually took zoloft years ago and remember the sleepiness wearing off, but this time has been different. i'm continually sleepy. i don't do the other things i should, of course: exercise, eat better, go to sleep at regular times, etc., etc. But i don't seem to be capable of changing those things, so have to adjust the drugs.
bleh. it's saturday afternoon and i have to work ALL DAY tomorrow and ALL i want is days and days stretching ahead of me with nothing to do. does everyone want that? every single tiny thing makes me feel pressured: have to call G back to make a plan 'cause i've been neglecting/ignoring her. Have to do laundry. Have to prep for all 3 sessions tomorrow (have to go to bookstore and read about L*** and A***?) Wld like to call nieces. Shld call E. Damn. what is happening with him?? just don't know. I think i've been lame. But he's been a little lame too. But maybe he's still a possibility? don't know. And....need to make room livable, please. Need to discuss the play with R and S, and I'm scared to discuss it because our needs conflict and it feels like demands that i can't meet or that will somehow feel bad. it's all about feeling bad. so i'm pausing as i write. i feel that i'm scared to feel bad. i feel that i'm scared to feel. everything looms as pressure, a deadline, something I can get wrong. Asking the Godfather to use his apt. Just calling him to be his friend. Probably he still sort of needs me. Don't want to get up from the computer. Ever. Need to call Bruria back. And, of course, now I feel sleepy. could just lie down for a nap. Why? Probably cause 1) I only slept 6 hours 2) it was from 6am to 12 noon 3) i ate piles of cookies and chocolate last night 4) i ate cheez doodles for breakfast. 5) i'm sitting on my ass instead of doing YOGA or anything!!
and, meanwhile, I haven't visited La Luna, who lost Michael on Wednesday. I don't know if she's there. But I could have gone today. I could have. I didn't. I feel guilty. I can't go tomorrow or monday. Tuesday??????? This eve???? Tomorrow early???? Bleh. I feel like I suck. And why do i have a rash. (i know. you really need to know that. it's on my neck/collarbone/sternum where I always get sun-reaction, but it's winter and i'm not in the sun!)
everything makes me anxious. and slightly ashamed. i'm not prepared enough. i'm not on top of things enough. my life is utterly unimpressive. i'm not taking the actions that will actually get me a husband; instead, I'm snogging hot 25-yr-olds!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
bleh. it's saturday afternoon and i have to work ALL DAY tomorrow and ALL i want is days and days stretching ahead of me with nothing to do. does everyone want that? every single tiny thing makes me feel pressured: have to call G back to make a plan 'cause i've been neglecting/ignoring her. Have to do laundry. Have to prep for all 3 sessions tomorrow (have to go to bookstore and read about L*** and A***?) Wld like to call nieces. Shld call E. Damn. what is happening with him?? just don't know. I think i've been lame. But he's been a little lame too. But maybe he's still a possibility? don't know. And....need to make room livable, please. Need to discuss the play with R and S, and I'm scared to discuss it because our needs conflict and it feels like demands that i can't meet or that will somehow feel bad. it's all about feeling bad. so i'm pausing as i write. i feel that i'm scared to feel bad. i feel that i'm scared to feel. everything looms as pressure, a deadline, something I can get wrong. Asking the Godfather to use his apt. Just calling him to be his friend. Probably he still sort of needs me. Don't want to get up from the computer. Ever. Need to call Bruria back. And, of course, now I feel sleepy. could just lie down for a nap. Why? Probably cause 1) I only slept 6 hours 2) it was from 6am to 12 noon 3) i ate piles of cookies and chocolate last night 4) i ate cheez doodles for breakfast. 5) i'm sitting on my ass instead of doing YOGA or anything!!
and, meanwhile, I haven't visited La Luna, who lost Michael on Wednesday. I don't know if she's there. But I could have gone today. I could have. I didn't. I feel guilty. I can't go tomorrow or monday. Tuesday??????? This eve???? Tomorrow early???? Bleh. I feel like I suck. And why do i have a rash. (i know. you really need to know that. it's on my neck/collarbone/sternum where I always get sun-reaction, but it's winter and i'm not in the sun!)
everything makes me anxious. and slightly ashamed. i'm not prepared enough. i'm not on top of things enough. my life is utterly unimpressive. i'm not taking the actions that will actually get me a husband; instead, I'm snogging hot 25-yr-olds!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
so much to get on paper
"Can we sit here?", we ask the beautiful wispy hippie blond in the booth. She nods and smiles her welcome, moves her stuff slightly. I smile at her. We sit, I eye her yummy-looking mug of something hot and foamy. "What are you drinking?" i gesture, giving her a "Yum!" face. "Chai tea! They make it with almond milk! It's really good. i was impressed!" "Mmmm! That's what I want!" We laugh. Settle in amicably. She rips a piece of paper off the notebook she is writing in and plonks it down in front of us. "I don't think I have another pen!" "I do," I smile. She goes back to listening excitedly to the lecture, and scribbling notes. I think, "Wow. People are taking notes? And people are THIS excited about this." ? I LAHVE thees cahn-tree!! Wackos. but such nice wackos. and i really do like that J was excited about that. (which J is this? have to find a way to i.d. them. ummm. who is this one? Boring J. That's mean. ummm. Big Head. He does sort of have a big head. but that's dumb. math guy? boring. blah blah. Connecticut Muffin? Yeah, kinda.) There are such cool things about him. it's so weird how cool he is if i describe him, or think about the concretes, and how boring he is to me in reality. why???? he weirds me out a little. he's too eager. but that's not a problem if i'm eager back. but i'm not. so then it's weird. which is not his fault. he says "I'm very attracted to you." now if i was attracted back, i would love that! but i'm NOT. why not? it's all personality. just don't want him. He bugs me, bores me, irritates me. He seems dumb in weird ways, and self-impressed in weird ways, and insecure in weird ways. Makes proclamations. Shows off uninteresting knowledge. I think he needs someone nerdier than me.
Meanwhile Surfer Dude from last night is hot and sweet and fun and sexy and appealing and somehow interesting. Why?????? Is he actually interesting? or does chemistry make him so? but he was yummy at the party. We danced and it was hot. mmm. god i love good dancing. then i left? or he left? or someone interceded? oh -- no. i remember. he said he was going to the bar. and i felt abandoned! why was he leaving dancing with me to go to the bar?! seemed like a tactic. but he had asked me if i wanted anything and i'd said no 'cause i'd already had ganja hamentashen!!! :) Hilarious. Brilliant. Thank you to whomever made those. So maybe it wasn't a tactic, maybe he just really wanted a drink?? but he should have stayed with me. So then we lost each other. ended up talking to other people, dancing with other people. He danced with the hip lanky blonde for a while and I thought it was over. she looked right for him. she seemed like his type. i walked away. then when i came back to the dance floor i saw her but didn't see him. Then suddenly, as I wandered the dance floor, I saw him moving off towards the chairs. I grabbed his hand -- he turned, laughed with pleasure and surprise, twirled me, pulled me close and said gratefully "Hey! I didn't think that was going to happen!" I grinned back my pleasure at his response. "I looked for you," I told him after a minute. "I didn't see you." "I escaped for a while," he confided, looking in my eyes. "Oh," i laughed back, and we snuggled closer. As we danced, his two dorky friends revolved around us, pulled to him, needing him. "This is one of the best guys in the world," he said, indicating the awkward kid in the red T-shirt. "I love him." I loved that. Guys who love their dorky friends. Huge points. We danced with them sometimes, feeling like we were in on something, special, in our own little private lust circle. And then he had to leave. They were going home and needed him. And he had to work in the morning. ugh. He entered my name in his phone and handed it to me to enter my number. I did. "I'm going to use that," he declared. "young," i thought. sweet. As we danced closer, saying goodbye, he put his mouth on mine and kissed me gently. YUM!!!!!!!! "Mmmm," he breathed. Smiled at me. I laughed back. "Bye," he said. And moved towards the door. Mmmmmm, i breathed. Looked at the men on the dance floor eyeing me. Closed my eyes and moved to the music. I love dancing with myself. Unbothered. Unaware. Can't move on to another man now. I just kissed him. Would look tacky. Feel tacky. And i liked him. and really liked dancing with him. that was enough. Suddenly, as I open my eyes, he's back at my side, a few more layers of clothing on: "I had to do that again," he declares, pulling me to him. Our mouths open this time, kissing, dancing, feeling the pleasure. I kiss him back, full force. "Wow," he says, grateful again. "Thank you!" "Bye," I smile. He moves off again. Happy. Me too, really.
Then later, I really want to go home with him but i don't. I still want to but i think it's good that i didn't. i think.
Meanwhile Surfer Dude from last night is hot and sweet and fun and sexy and appealing and somehow interesting. Why?????? Is he actually interesting? or does chemistry make him so? but he was yummy at the party. We danced and it was hot. mmm. god i love good dancing. then i left? or he left? or someone interceded? oh -- no. i remember. he said he was going to the bar. and i felt abandoned! why was he leaving dancing with me to go to the bar?! seemed like a tactic. but he had asked me if i wanted anything and i'd said no 'cause i'd already had ganja hamentashen!!! :) Hilarious. Brilliant. Thank you to whomever made those. So maybe it wasn't a tactic, maybe he just really wanted a drink?? but he should have stayed with me. So then we lost each other. ended up talking to other people, dancing with other people. He danced with the hip lanky blonde for a while and I thought it was over. she looked right for him. she seemed like his type. i walked away. then when i came back to the dance floor i saw her but didn't see him. Then suddenly, as I wandered the dance floor, I saw him moving off towards the chairs. I grabbed his hand -- he turned, laughed with pleasure and surprise, twirled me, pulled me close and said gratefully "Hey! I didn't think that was going to happen!" I grinned back my pleasure at his response. "I looked for you," I told him after a minute. "I didn't see you." "I escaped for a while," he confided, looking in my eyes. "Oh," i laughed back, and we snuggled closer. As we danced, his two dorky friends revolved around us, pulled to him, needing him. "This is one of the best guys in the world," he said, indicating the awkward kid in the red T-shirt. "I love him." I loved that. Guys who love their dorky friends. Huge points. We danced with them sometimes, feeling like we were in on something, special, in our own little private lust circle. And then he had to leave. They were going home and needed him. And he had to work in the morning. ugh. He entered my name in his phone and handed it to me to enter my number. I did. "I'm going to use that," he declared. "young," i thought. sweet. As we danced closer, saying goodbye, he put his mouth on mine and kissed me gently. YUM!!!!!!!! "Mmmm," he breathed. Smiled at me. I laughed back. "Bye," he said. And moved towards the door. Mmmmmm, i breathed. Looked at the men on the dance floor eyeing me. Closed my eyes and moved to the music. I love dancing with myself. Unbothered. Unaware. Can't move on to another man now. I just kissed him. Would look tacky. Feel tacky. And i liked him. and really liked dancing with him. that was enough. Suddenly, as I open my eyes, he's back at my side, a few more layers of clothing on: "I had to do that again," he declares, pulling me to him. Our mouths open this time, kissing, dancing, feeling the pleasure. I kiss him back, full force. "Wow," he says, grateful again. "Thank you!" "Bye," I smile. He moves off again. Happy. Me too, really.
Then later, I really want to go home with him but i don't. I still want to but i think it's good that i didn't. i think.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
need to blog
Michael died yesterday.
And I am going to live live live my life with a vengeance. that's what i need to write. how many more deaths do i need to see to feel deeply deeply deeply that all you get is today. TODAY. i want today to be JUST what i want. how about i live today by making the choices that make ME happy. just me. look at the blue blue sky and thank god for that. white puffy clouds thank god for that too. so beautiful drifitn, winging across the sky. thank god for my big gorgeous sunny window. thank god that B had a long wonderful marriage with michael and he's had a great job and these fabulous adventures off to exquisite places and two children he adores, and grandchildren to fill his heart. that is a good good good life. and good friends. and beautiful homes and exquisite art and music and theater and learning and politics and argument. that is a good rich life and he enjoyed it. he did. B's life has suddenly completely drastically changed...so now what. probably she'll move to chicago. and mom can see her all the time there. she won't stay here. that is sad, somehow. for me. weirdly.
wow. and yesterday i just wanted to die. everything felt so completely wrong and hopeless. i couldn't see any way out except dying. and today i feel some courage. it was so horrible. it's so deep when it's wrong. too too deep. so so wrong and painful and evil and dementor-ish.
Y being real with me last night meant so much. just truth. it helps my breathing slow down. now i feel like we can see each other better. he can be a friend. we'll see. that's good. and J still loves me. and writes me to tell me. because he is a lovely, lovely genuine soul. it's generous to tell me that it was hard for him to see me with Y, and to let me know that he just loves me, "so dearly." thank GOD for him in the world, and people who love me deeply.
i want to live today. not hide from it. just live every minute INSIDE it, breathing it, feeling all the difficulty and worry and pain and shame that comes with each minute, and accepting it and letting it in and through me. i could just write that all day. breathe. breathe in the fear. let it breathe through me. breathe. breathe in the terror and shame and humiliation and anger and hatred and then move, move, move. who i am. and still i'm afraid. sitting here i'm afraid to get up. i feel my mouth tense. "matuach." vs "lachatz." tension. contraction.
remember doing contractions and EXPANSIONS for esther in terminating. remember doing it as big as Medea as Michael H. said. Contract fully, in order to EXPAND explosively. do whatever whatever. do. see the sunny sunny glory of god. Blake: and "When the Sun rises, do you not see a round disk of fire somewhat like a Guinea?" O no, no, I see an Innumerable company of the Heavenly host crying, `Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty.'
i think that might be my favorite line of writing in the whole whole world. my soul is a religious spiritual soul. that is the fact. whatever rationalist tradition and skeptical bent i come from, my soul longs for sounds like that.
And I am going to live live live my life with a vengeance. that's what i need to write. how many more deaths do i need to see to feel deeply deeply deeply that all you get is today. TODAY. i want today to be JUST what i want. how about i live today by making the choices that make ME happy. just me. look at the blue blue sky and thank god for that. white puffy clouds thank god for that too. so beautiful drifitn, winging across the sky. thank god for my big gorgeous sunny window. thank god that B had a long wonderful marriage with michael and he's had a great job and these fabulous adventures off to exquisite places and two children he adores, and grandchildren to fill his heart. that is a good good good life. and good friends. and beautiful homes and exquisite art and music and theater and learning and politics and argument. that is a good rich life and he enjoyed it. he did. B's life has suddenly completely drastically changed...so now what. probably she'll move to chicago. and mom can see her all the time there. she won't stay here. that is sad, somehow. for me. weirdly.
wow. and yesterday i just wanted to die. everything felt so completely wrong and hopeless. i couldn't see any way out except dying. and today i feel some courage. it was so horrible. it's so deep when it's wrong. too too deep. so so wrong and painful and evil and dementor-ish.
Y being real with me last night meant so much. just truth. it helps my breathing slow down. now i feel like we can see each other better. he can be a friend. we'll see. that's good. and J still loves me. and writes me to tell me. because he is a lovely, lovely genuine soul. it's generous to tell me that it was hard for him to see me with Y, and to let me know that he just loves me, "so dearly." thank GOD for him in the world, and people who love me deeply.
i want to live today. not hide from it. just live every minute INSIDE it, breathing it, feeling all the difficulty and worry and pain and shame that comes with each minute, and accepting it and letting it in and through me. i could just write that all day. breathe. breathe in the fear. let it breathe through me. breathe. breathe in the terror and shame and humiliation and anger and hatred and then move, move, move. who i am. and still i'm afraid. sitting here i'm afraid to get up. i feel my mouth tense. "matuach." vs "lachatz." tension. contraction.
remember doing contractions and EXPANSIONS for esther in terminating. remember doing it as big as Medea as Michael H. said. Contract fully, in order to EXPAND explosively. do whatever whatever. do. see the sunny sunny glory of god. Blake: and "When the Sun rises, do you not see a round disk of fire somewhat like a Guinea?" O no, no, I see an Innumerable company of the Heavenly host crying, `Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty.'
i think that might be my favorite line of writing in the whole whole world. my soul is a religious spiritual soul. that is the fact. whatever rationalist tradition and skeptical bent i come from, my soul longs for sounds like that.
and then pleasure
jesus h. christ. the roller coaster. coming around again to pleasure, contentment, hopefulness, fun, self-love, envisioning art and joy and satisfaction and good things. Y made me feel good tonight just by being real real real with me. just by taking a breath and being honest. i suddenly felt ok. that was all i needed. truth. just truth and trust and intimacy. that's it. healed. meanwhile fucking J in S.A. is so fucking lame. doesn't even email. i KNEW that's what he would do. unbelievable. so fucking stupid. immature and pathetic. i mean -- i'm making myself open and ready for you and you are too scared to take it. and when i'm done being hurt and angry, i can see that he's just doing the best he can, and that obviously he's very very very scared. it's actually painful to see. he was so so scared. and he's really hot and he has NO IDEA. too afraid to even kiss me. or ask me to come stay with him. and he's so so lovely and appealing. and has NO IDEA. how??? how can that happen?? he seems so damaged. and that's so sad. but it's just who he is. and he's lovely. so i don't want to think there's something WRONG with him. just he's a different sort of person. but he seems afraid. very afraid. and he could have so much, but he chooses to have so little. and i would love to spend more time with him. i had such a gorgeous evening with him on that jetty. and it would have been divine if he'd kissed me.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
more fucking agony
it's ironic though i don't think it really is ironic, but it's something. bitter. that i remember clearly thinking "i don't have anything to write for my show now that i'm feeling FINE post-zoloft!" What the fuck happened to feeling fine. instead i feel agony. misery. hatred for myself. fuck. i fucking hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate haet haet haet hate hate hate hate haet hate hate the world. all this terrible terrible feeling for no reason. fucking useless waste of time. don't want to tutor today. don't want to do anything. don't want to see anyone. want to HIDE HIDE HIDE HIDE HIDE DHIE HIDE HIDE. FUCK. fuck. and i have to leave. fuck.
Friday, March 14, 2008
help. again. more
agony agony agony. so crazy fucked up. i shut myself down. instead of writing stories. writing stories. that's what i do best. i write fucking brilliant travelogues, but as soon as i think "i'm writing this for something," it all goes to shit. my entire being shuts down. my brain, my heart, my guts, my legs, my lungs. shut down. closed for business. screwed down tight and hammered in and padlocked. all about criticism on the one side and controllingness on the other. there is only one right way to do things. one. i know how you should do everything. i will tell you exactly. and you must do it that way or else it's wrong. wrong. wrong. wrong. and i can't live like that because i will fall apart completely. so you HAVE to do it this way. this way. and on the other side, gentle, laughing mocking of everyone who does anything differently from his family. everything else is ridiculous. H and B spend their ENTIRE lives opplaching. whatever. fucking misery. fucking clouds and misery. with beautiful golden magical sun brimming from behind them. sunset over the Statue of Liberty. aaaaahhhhh.
tense stomach. don't want to go to R. but it's shabbos. i want to go. i need that spiritual lifting me out of myself. i want to email J about when he's arriving this summer, but goddamn hotmail doesn't work. what the fuck.
wow. this autosaves drafts. thank god for that. sad sad sad. where are my crocuses? how do i escape the life of mom and D? escape!!! i don't want their lives. i want a BIG BIG BIG BIG life. and a man to match. that's the problem. i need confidence in myself. me. my project. not his. and i so want A. I still want him. don't even know why. just want him. want to sing with him. want to pray with him. talk. analyse. share. love. settle down. and how fucked is it that he was with Sarah???? and how much do J and D know him? too weird, AGAIN. goddamn A. what is he, 25??? that's crazy. crazy. so is he just nervous??? but he emailed me. right away. then stopped. what the fuck. he kissed me then never called me. i'm definitely not doing another David. fucker. speaking of whom.....i need. NEED. "need" to contact J.H. about the next project. i HAVE good projects that could happen IF i could let myself have anything. Fill effexor scrip tomorrow. TOMORROW. in the neighborhood.
There is No Prince. She's right. yet i want a prince. i want want want a prince. want. want. so much wanting. the wanting self. NEED MORE TARA BRACH!!!! i left the book behind. how did i do that??? today in yoga i was SO CRITICAL. How can she wear those nasty pants?? i don't even want to see that. the aesthetics make me cringe. and frown. and sneer. blech. pull them down. wear your hair differently. and then butch dyke next to her! jesus. it's YOGA. not football. the defensiveness of her posture at all times. it made me hate her. and what made me hate ugly green pants was the whininess of her manner. she seemed scared. and skinny dyke seemed nervous and uncomfortable and defensive. and clueless. and whiny seemed scared and clueless and gormless. so that makes me hate them. hate them. i'm in yoga class and i'm breathing, and working, and flowing and i'm thinking "what the fuck is wrong with her?" Get out of my class. unbelievable. but believable. and i thought so clearly: if that's what i think about THEM, what the hell am i thinking about myself every SECOND. jesus. SO MUCH CRITICISM. and anger. and the anger was at weakness. just weakness. .weakness. so fucked up. no one would ever ever think i was like that. and i am am am am am.
and. being kind and loving to myself is the only solution. Marilyn Graman says "what is the most loving thing i could do for myself right now?" Well, what is it???? Do my hair and go to Rmm?? i want to sleep. that's all. sleep. and be outside. but i don't go. i don't go. i sit inside inside inside and SUFFER. torment. torture. misery. fear. shame. anger at myself. disgust. humiliation. what have you been doing since you got back? who the fuck knows.
tha's so cool that that artist contacted me and that his art is so fucking beautiful. interesting how fucking is the only appropriate adjective when i'm in this mood. i could watch a movie on my com-poo-ter. (you're a com-poo-ter. 'cause you poo all the time.)
castles and monsters and PSYCHEDELIC dreams. going to google jet-lag and depression now.
Ha!!! there it is!! why the hell didn't i know that? and for all you readers: now you know. jet-lag causes depression. no kidding. jesus. next time i'm going to prepare, and do the light-box thing and melatonin and everything and take it seriously.
tense stomach. don't want to go to R. but it's shabbos. i want to go. i need that spiritual lifting me out of myself. i want to email J about when he's arriving this summer, but goddamn hotmail doesn't work. what the fuck.
wow. this autosaves drafts. thank god for that. sad sad sad. where are my crocuses? how do i escape the life of mom and D? escape!!! i don't want their lives. i want a BIG BIG BIG BIG life. and a man to match. that's the problem. i need confidence in myself. me. my project. not his. and i so want A. I still want him. don't even know why. just want him. want to sing with him. want to pray with him. talk. analyse. share. love. settle down. and how fucked is it that he was with Sarah???? and how much do J and D know him? too weird, AGAIN. goddamn A. what is he, 25??? that's crazy. crazy. so is he just nervous??? but he emailed me. right away. then stopped. what the fuck. he kissed me then never called me. i'm definitely not doing another David. fucker. speaking of whom.....i need. NEED. "need" to contact J.H. about the next project. i HAVE good projects that could happen IF i could let myself have anything. Fill effexor scrip tomorrow. TOMORROW. in the neighborhood.
There is No Prince. She's right. yet i want a prince. i want want want a prince. want. want. so much wanting. the wanting self. NEED MORE TARA BRACH!!!! i left the book behind. how did i do that??? today in yoga i was SO CRITICAL. How can she wear those nasty pants?? i don't even want to see that. the aesthetics make me cringe. and frown. and sneer. blech. pull them down. wear your hair differently. and then butch dyke next to her! jesus. it's YOGA. not football. the defensiveness of her posture at all times. it made me hate her. and what made me hate ugly green pants was the whininess of her manner. she seemed scared. and skinny dyke seemed nervous and uncomfortable and defensive. and clueless. and whiny seemed scared and clueless and gormless. so that makes me hate them. hate them. i'm in yoga class and i'm breathing, and working, and flowing and i'm thinking "what the fuck is wrong with her?" Get out of my class. unbelievable. but believable. and i thought so clearly: if that's what i think about THEM, what the hell am i thinking about myself every SECOND. jesus. SO MUCH CRITICISM. and anger. and the anger was at weakness. just weakness. .weakness. so fucked up. no one would ever ever think i was like that. and i am am am am am.
and. being kind and loving to myself is the only solution. Marilyn Graman says "what is the most loving thing i could do for myself right now?" Well, what is it???? Do my hair and go to Rmm?? i want to sleep. that's all. sleep. and be outside. but i don't go. i don't go. i sit inside inside inside and SUFFER. torment. torture. misery. fear. shame. anger at myself. disgust. humiliation. what have you been doing since you got back? who the fuck knows.
tha's so cool that that artist contacted me and that his art is so fucking beautiful. interesting how fucking is the only appropriate adjective when i'm in this mood. i could watch a movie on my com-poo-ter. (you're a com-poo-ter. 'cause you poo all the time.)
castles and monsters and PSYCHEDELIC dreams. going to google jet-lag and depression now.
Ha!!! there it is!! why the hell didn't i know that? and for all you readers: now you know. jet-lag causes depression. no kidding. jesus. next time i'm going to prepare, and do the light-box thing and melatonin and everything and take it seriously.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
freaked out
i am freaked out. and trying to find a way out of it. AND. my wrists hurt which they haven't in a long time and i think it must be that my chair is not high enough. But that's as high as it gets. duh. so so sleepy. fucking jet lag, fucking zoloft. i feel like shit. and now it's sunny and beautiful outside and if only i could be outside in that sun, with blue blue sky. if only it were warm. but i could be outside in the crisp cold air. but i'm SLEEPY. and want to sleep. and want to HIDE HIDE HIDE. actually i more want to die. i want to not exist. i want i want i want. i want avi. certainly. i want to feel better. i want to be someone else. i want to feel awake and energized and happy and confident. i read Katie's bio and just think: fuck. what the fuck is wrong with me? my mom always said "what is wrong with you??" Goddamn her. that was so fucked up. she told me all the tijme that something was wrong with me. jesus. and she's a great person. just made the usual damn mistakes. nothing like dorothy allison's mom who seems like the worst slime on the bottom of a shoe to me, and yet she seems to worship her.
Clenching my teeth. which hurt. everything hurts lately. my back, mostly. teeth. wrists when typing. and it's all addressable. and i don't do it and then i feel more like shit. yoga was at 9:30 this morning but i didn't want to leave the house. i never want to leave the house. i think i have to change something. therapy?????????????????????? job?????????????
fuck. get me out. get a raise at least. fuck. TIMESHEET.
FUCK FUCK FUCK. i am so weird. i am just WASTING my life away doing NOTHING while everyone else is doing something. fuck fuck fuck. CHANGE SOMETHING.
read a new book about depression??? get a new therapist??? body-oriented??? take dance classes. DANCE DANCE DANCE. move? no.
Clenching my teeth. which hurt. everything hurts lately. my back, mostly. teeth. wrists when typing. and it's all addressable. and i don't do it and then i feel more like shit. yoga was at 9:30 this morning but i didn't want to leave the house. i never want to leave the house. i think i have to change something. therapy?????????????????????? job?????????????
fuck. get me out. get a raise at least. fuck. TIMESHEET.
FUCK FUCK FUCK. i am so weird. i am just WASTING my life away doing NOTHING while everyone else is doing something. fuck fuck fuck. CHANGE SOMETHING.
read a new book about depression??? get a new therapist??? body-oriented??? take dance classes. DANCE DANCE DANCE. move? no.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
asshole
i know. he's not. i'm just SAD! sad sad sad. it hurts to be rejected. blah blah blah. even if it has nothing to do with me. aaaaaaaaaaah. i don't like it. 11pm and he hasn't emailed, called, telegraphed...The other ones have. E sent an email saying "have a good trip, Cookie." mmm. cookie. i liked that.
enjoy what i have! "Enjoy-oy yourself. It's later than you think. Enjoy-oy yourself, while you're still in the pink." (are those the words????)
Enjoy. endless dissatisfaction. eternal dissatisfaction. DIVINE DISSATISFACTION. but not pain-seeking. no need. no need.
enjoy what i have! "Enjoy-oy yourself. It's later than you think. Enjoy-oy yourself, while you're still in the pink." (are those the words????)
Enjoy. endless dissatisfaction. eternal dissatisfaction. DIVINE DISSATISFACTION. but not pain-seeking. no need. no need.
waiting....
OK. so i just sent out a group email about going away for the next two weeks and included Mr. A. on it. Subtle? but i hate myself for doing it. 'cause i already emailed him. and this is just: see me! see me! please! bleh. bleh. but of course i'm dying for him to respond. fuck.
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