for better or perverse

Monday, January 29, 1996
6:45pm, home.

Don’t want to be writing down my thoughts, be confronted by the moment to moment weirdness of them.  Don’t feel like writing down dreams.

Made the mistake of telling Judith I smoked this morning so we were talking about that. Then about how everything doesn’t have to be so fraught.

I always feel like I’m getting it. Like I’m catching on, but I’m not putting it into full action on a moment to moment basis. Maybe all this chronic examining of my feelings is another stupid symptom. Then what will I do? What will I do with my time if I don’t sit around and examine my feelings.

Smoked a joint with Ian on the fire escape Friday, then talked about writing while walking over to Avenue A. I told him, Ted listens to all that whiny white boy alt jabber, and he said, “Sounds better than the usual class of guy you date.” And I’m like “Yeah, and thank God too, since he’s the one I’m identifying my identity through. Thank God he’s so good.”

Last night before sleeping had the idea to write another letter to Ava.  For two people as close as we were, and for better or perverse, we were close—maybe we could find a more graceful way to run into each other in the street. It’s so disgusting to me to think of you right there hating me and undermining me so much.

I guess I have a bug up my ass to have it out with Ava, because I’m coming close to doing it with my mom.

Paul called on Friday and again on Saturday. It was hard, watching that scene in Casino, where DeNiro’s thugs beat up Sharon Stone’s ex-boyfriend, and I thought of Paul. I really felt her pain.  It was very potent.  Thinking about it today at work, that’s the kind of incredibly potent, concise, emotional moment I want to pass along through my work.

I was thinking yesterday it would be fun if Ted and I lived together. Talked to Spyro last night who was having a crisis. Should have told him to drink some beer, Guinness, something to knock himself out. It’s interesting to hear the guy’s style of anxiety.

What else? Oh, stop annoying me, stop trying to pry me open, to get things out of me. I’m not your pinata. Hey, my hand hurts. Hey, my mind is cramping. Same bullshit. Different today.

Today I have an audition for an Ikea commercial. I hope this shirt isn’t too busy. Thursday is comedy class.  I want to forget about everything.

One of the ways I “won” Ted was to say I wanted to avoid drama, which I brought up again while bawling my eyes out last Thursday. I’m excited he’ll be away and I’ll be hanging out with my friends. Hil and I have a plan this Sunday. We can go to Aveda for facials, or Let’s Face It, or some place like that.

I never would have got to be friendly with Hil if I wasn’t mooching off her and her connections, Fat Pat and her fat quarters. I was jealous at first, because she and Paul loved each other so much, but everybody loves Hil, she’s gorgeous and special, etc.

Still a little bit jealous because of her acting career and her apartment. But now she’s one of the people I like most. She’s an alpha female. She understands the burden of knowing too much, being too desired. That’s not something everyone gets.

There’s such sympathy between me and her, almost telepathy. I came by last week and Geoff Quillen was there, and I could tell she was tired of humoring him so I said, Well, nice seeing you, Geoff, but Hil and I have to work on our important creative project together alone immediately, so goodbye.

She saw him out, turned around and looked at me with love. We both do this for other people, usually men, we try to determine what people want or need in a situation and give it to them before they know they wanted or needed it. Nobody ever does this for us.

We were so gleeful to be alone. Hanging out and smoking, drawing I ching fortunes on strips of paper from a coffee can. Talking about boyfriends, hers, mine. She’s trying to figure out how to get what she wants from J, but she doesn’t know what that is. She’s not asking him to be monogamous, she’s not monogamous, but she also can’t stand the situation as is, always wondering what he’s really doing, why he lies and blows her off.

I said, I think you just want him to stop hurting your feelings. That’s what we all want from them.

Why do I feel the need to analyze her life with her? She must be exhausted or put off by it. And then I go on for an hour about Jackson and how much I hate him. Blah.

After Ava, you’d think I’d be done with female friends, and I do want to be careful not to invest too much hope and trust in Hil, the way I always do with women, hoping this one will be the sister I can lean on and love without getting fucked over and used.

To read the girl bomb diaries in chronological order, click here.