oh, you played hooky

Sunday, December 31, 1995
Noon, home

Just sitting here now wondering how I have managed to live my life so completely and consistently unhappy. Now I feel utterly paranoid that everybody thinks terrible things about me. I just feel like hell and remember feeling this way every day. Also remember feeling like I was way past this. For instance, scrubbing the kitchen floor this morning yelling “asshole.”

Such unnecessary torture. Ted and Lauren and the crew breaking the set yesterday, saw them talking, laughing at one point. Scared the hell out of me. Did he see her over Christmas? Will he see her today and tonight?

I wish he’d told me she would be there. It would have been nice to have had some advance notice so I could know how to cope. When I first saw her I smiled at her and she smiled at me, but I still wasn’t sure it was her. Then I was, and I was so surprised.

I said to him this morning. Me, me, me, me, me. You’re mine now. I don’t care, I’ll pull some hair out. I’ll fight for you. I can’t believe I said that. I am so insecure sometimes.

We got way too involved too fast. Told him last night, I’m way too integrated into your social life. I need my own life. You go do your thing, and I’ll stay home and get work done.

I was the one who said I didn’t want drama, which is why I didn’t say anything last night. Just pretended to be very cool and not give a shit.

Still haven’t decided what to do re: tomorrow. I just want to go away and hide a while. Just want to be by myself and repair, or better yet be with Ted and feel safe and hugged and cared about. I want it to be true. I want to hold hands in our half sleep. I feel like I love him and I’m scared as hell.

New year, new book. Really want this one to end well. Horrible holiday. Wish it was over. Soon I will be fine. Soon, I hope. Soon.

Monday, January 1, 1996
11:45am, cab

It’s a brand new cab, baby and it’s going to Greenpoint. Don’t know what happens from here, not that I ever did. Today is the holiday where I feel really different, where I celebrate feeling new and uncrazy.

Just passed by the office and thought, that’s where I should go now. Not to Greenpoint. I should go sit at my desk and write until 2:00 or so, then walk over to the St. Marks reading with something new. But I want the comfort of being with Ted right now instead. Wish it was easier to write in cabs.

Tuesday, January 2, 1996
7:45am, home

Waiting for Ted to get ready. Left the room so I wouldn’t hover. Psychically hovering from in here.

Got so confused last night, having a pretty intense conversation about life, love, the relationship, not in that order. He indicated to me that though the sex is definitely a fundamental part of the relationship, it’s not everything.

And I was like bullshit, it’s the sex and any residual feeling you’ve built up around it, or just because we’ve spent so much time together by now. Just a matter of filling in the hours and because you want to like or love the person you fuck because otherwise you feel like an asshole. So we’ve made a big effort to like or love each other and actually wound up deciding we’re not doing so bad a job.

We also talked about our big deal. How at first we were pretty casual, but now we had a thing. A we-ness, he called it, and he said he had been pushing the big deal in some ways.

I don’t know what to think. He was talking how we had a good track record with regards to arguing/not arguing and I have to agree, not that there haven’t been moments of tension, but how we’ve chosen to deal with them. He wants me to tell him to smoke less pot so he’ll be more aroused all the time, though he’s pretty well aroused all the time now. I tried not to take it as implicit condemnation.

Didn’t go to either St. Marks or the alternative reading yesterday, my excuse being I didn’t feel like it, truth being I had nothing new to read. No new pieces for a while now and it kills me. Thinking yesterday at Leslie’s, I can’t spend all my time hanging out like this. I don’t want to.

I’m glad I skipped the readings. It makes me feel freer and more autonomous. Who needs it? When Anne came by Ted and Noah’s, she said oh, you played hooky. I said yeah, I wasn’t feeling well. I’m going to call tomorrow and apologize and she said oh, why bother? The point is, Anne resents me.

I can blow off readings. I don’t care what impact it has on my “career”. My career is writing and as long as I do that and do it well, I have nothing to worry about. Which means, these days, I have something to worry about.

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