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for fuck's sake, why the fuck doth I cling to the past so much? Why do I write to nothing? why do I choose and prefer this exhibitionist foible spewing to writing in private? there are so many selves that I have and coach bur smith from Walton did give me one note - the soccer coach - but felt like a safe man: "you're a writer. keep writing." or "you're a writer. please never stop."
I write out of a wound.
of course.
my voice was never heard or acknowledged.
so I do it in a minor/major weigh.
sic
reading old writings of mine on this fruhliche robot.
could you imagine being me?
I'm practically in love with rich. he's my publisher. he's kept this thing up.
it's sometimes been like a pretend message in a bottle.
always to you (kristen? or you you?)
trying to get you to love me for real.
always
allways.
the first screenplay idea I had.
oh golly what a thing - ideas "you won't but you might."
a story where the boy and girl go through different vignettes and relationships and the actor either one of them - is different every time but the character is the same (and I can't recall but it doesn't now make sense - the other person would have the same actor but different characters.). I was also going to work with Timmy and do a documentary ish thing on the buddhist monastery but instead I danced in the rain (and you'd be surprised how hard it is to have subtitles... I was so annoyed with mark - bitch that I am - queen bitch let's say.)
I just texted him.
I'm so weird, but I think of all the people I let into my life - the ones I let see me. the ones who were always kind. I mean, I don't think of chuck as much for sure, but my first song on the guitar was C E "I really loved you" C G which was the chords but the words were "See I really loved you. See I really loved you ChuckDean. Gee I really loved. GEE I really loved you."
At first, the only human beings I ever let into my core were men who I could dominate and who loved me and saw me in every puddle. I wanted no barriers - barriers meant no love.
I had come from bill my fucking evil father in shepherd's clothing. chuck was the first one I ever really 'loved'. Dave adored me (he was my first boyfriend) but chuck and I REALLY got to know each other. He loved me. I loved him. As I write this from afar, I wonder if the poison is that I use these men to be my father replacement holder and get to always grow up? for me the feeling is more one of tether. Like however far I fly or float above, our love is the tether. I'm not sure I've ever had a healthy relationship. I'm not sure I've ... wait, I know I've never been healthy. Look at this culmination I'm endlessly attempting to elusively document.
I wept when I thought of mark.
I weep thinking about him now.
there's a part of me that knows I - or thinks I - saved him from drowning in my hell. I pushed him out of a toxic spaceship.
but
fuck
it
was
cruel
what I did to that man and his love of me.
first, I grew to disdain him for loving me.
what a chump
second, I began to pick at it all and blame him for all my ...
that I was not a tether for safety but a tether to hold me captive.
there's a TS song called "midnight rain" that describes it pour moi.
where was I?
mourning the tremendous loss of my former life.
when I tell you about Wilmington, I'm telling you mostly about mark.
with this disorder that I have, I only "come alive" like a vampire when I have a 'new daddy' to perform for.
the beauty of the love state is ... and the drug state... is that the performance is cancelled... it's dancing like no one is watching - a freedom from the constant part that
FUCKING WRINGS MY NECK AND POISONS MY AIR.
all a commendable way to escape from the "original sin"
my second husband.
I'm going through a big what the fuckedness and it can't not be compared to #1...
my second husband. I went against all instincts because I thought how wrong I had been using them and just wanted a safe harbor. I mean I married a literal dad this time. Yet unfortunately, it was almost all the time performance. To my shame, I never once in all the time I knew him felt "I FUCKING LOVE THIS MAN." He deserves better. I recall that crying thing I told you about where I got out of the shower and sobbed because I knew I didn't love him and I would hurt him one day. it sucked. I did it. I am paying like a mother fucker.
could you imagine being me? like having a stroke in your emotions and doing it to the ones the very closest to you - to hurt them - oh and you think you're over it every time. And you think "alone". It is what it is.
So I sobbed in this present reality and sent awkward "you're good men." texts to the two men who define ILM 2 me: Kent and mark.
and it's because when there I was tethered by love an infinity length long...
it allowed me to be myself.
Yet still the voice. I'm still in that using other people's status/validation to voice my own opinions. hopefully excelsior silly.
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