How To Be Beautiful In the Dark

Thursday, December 28, 1995
6:30, home

Called Judith in the afternoon, crying. It felt so good to confess how lousy I felt and to break a little, even if it was semi-public.

I was so freaked out and disappointed when Spyro showed up for lunch with Joey John. I was incredibly riled. Oh I’m so confused. Why don’t I feel a million times better?

Emotionally exhausted. Not so much physically tired as just out of emotions to feel.

8:30pm, Hil’s

I hate all men. I’m here at Hil’s house, listening to her say things like “don’t do this, you’re making me sick,” et cetera. I’m like the heavy girl with her always. It’s always right to the truest, most painful stuff.

Eric and Geoff just completely read me for no reason tonight. Apparently I’m arrogant and I come on too strong. This was the problem with me. I told them they want to fuck me. It got Eric angry. He was with a girl and I think I blew his rap because she was looking pissed off. And he started going, “That’s not it. That’s not it.”

Stand back, fuckers. I feel so humiliated. I was in so much pain so publicly for so long. I’m so pissed off.

Friday, December 29, 1995
7:45pm, home

Thinking about talking with Hil last night, and her saying she does this with all her girlfriends. They go straight to the most fucked-up, confusing, painful place, and root around there together.

Sam wants a new column this week, Wednesday. Brought a bag of pot with me so could get all my work friends high.

Tried on contour makeup the other day to make my face look thinner for New Year’s. It’s time to write a new New Year’s poem: How To Be Beautiful In the Dark. I know Jackson will find fault with anything I read. Why even count his opinion? God, how I detest being trapped in this situation.

9:30pm, C:U

Here at the Collective:Unconscious feeling alone at a party where I know people and I can keep up a perfectly fine conversation but can’t think of anything to say. I’m basically writing right now so I have an excuse not to interact, which is too difficult with the way I’m feeling about myself. Just feel like retreating a million percent.

Saturday, December 30, 1995
11am, Angel Orensanz

Glad I decided to bring this book. At the synagogue on Norfolk Street, everyone preparing for the performance. Freezing and no place to sit. Girl here looks a lot like Lauren. Is it? Or is it the other girl who slept with Noah from the pictures?

Last night, Ted was whipped into a little bit of a state. Somebody he knows just died. OD’d on Christmas Eve. He said, if it’s not perfect, it’s shit. Also told me he was pretty sure Abel doesn’t think too much of me. Don’t know why he bothered to tell me that.

I’m so funny, because in one way, I really am convinced that everybody does like me a lot. I would’ve told you that Abel likes me, even finds me sympathetic and attractive. But I guess I fantasize that’s how everybody feels, and Geoff and Eric needed to show me that’s not so.

All sorts of people walking around here. Low level nausea. I’m going to take a break and walk around now. Is that her? Lauren? Do I care? I hope that’s not Lauren. I don’t feel like skulking around her. Truthfully I wish I was home hanging out alone. I need more of that in my life.

I wonder if Jackson has told his new girlfriend about my former thumb sucking. How will the new girlfriend feel on New Year’s Day?  The way I feel now? Do I care?  Are they still together? Don’t I have anything better to think about?

After driving back to Greenpoint last night, Anne says, “So, Janice, what are you working on?” Felt so challenged and put down. Told her I was writing a lot, just not stuff I felt I wanted to publish or share, and that that was okay with me right now. I feel like everyone expects me to have a high profile thing going on all the time and I don’t.

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