a rose that opens before it dies
Monday, September 16, 1996
10:20am, train
Been trying to keep the thing with Frank undercover at work, trying not to let anybody know what’s happening, not that either of us really knows what’s happening. We haven’t had the conversation, are we going to be a couple? But in many ways we’re already acting like one.
I’m sure people are starting to catch on. The other morning Tony came in early and saw us talking in Franks’s office, and even thought we weren’t doing anything I popped right up out of my seat. Makes me look guilty, which I am. I’m not proud of how I’ve acted.
I want to be respected at work. Josh walks around being insane and stirring up shit. He loves pitting people against each other. I don’t want to get caught up in that, but when he starts telling me how Galinsky said I’m not paying enough attention to the studio, I’m going to react poorly.
I wonder if you have to be crazy to be a genius, and if so, whether that’s good or bad news for my own potential. I wonder if you have to be a total asshole to be a success. Josh will snap, turn nasty and sarcastic out of nowhere. He can’t ever admit that he made a mistake or changed his mind. He’s really a terrible boss. He has no idea how to prioritize. He drives us all crazy with his last-minute-drop-everything routine.
The whole place is a nuthouse. Cal sits in his office all day looking at pictures of decapitated guys with burning tires around their necks, Tony’s looking at Asian bondage porn, and Joey John is on heroin. There’s a party literally every other weekend, so we lose all of Friday and Monday setting up and breaking down. I don’t think we should be hosting any more parties until we start making money. Not a popular opinion.
It’s a dysfunctional family but I specialize in dysfunction. The business team loves me, they know I’m doing my best to make this flaky shit fly. I love hearing it from Rinzel, Teich, Brady, all those guys, we’re counting on you, you’re the best, you’re the only one who gets it. It takes so little with me, just a pat on the head and I’ll sit down and rewrite the entire press kit.
Tuesday, September 17, 1996
10:25am, train
Spent a few hours last night fooling around with Frank at his place last night, then we were lying around joking about how rich we’re going to be when Pseudo hits the big time, and he said something about the huge house he’ll buy us and all the genius kids we’ll have. I know it’s the endorphins talking, but I could even kind of imagine it. Talk about insane.
It all depends on him. I know I can do this, I know I can love someone, but can he? I feel about three-quarters secure in his feelings for me with about one-quarter doubt. I’m so mathematical. Every man is a new can of worms. I know better than to be openly myself in front of anyone I haven’t known and trusted for at least six months to a year. I won’t say I love you until I can shit comfortably in the same apartment.
Have to stop myself from doing what I always do, jumping in too fast, using up all the lovey-dovey feelings too early on and then having nothing left for later. I want this to work out, I want it to last. Just once, I’d like to buy a rose that opens before it dies.
Friday, September 20, 1996
10:30am, train
Got home after work last night and Ted was there, surprise! I almost puked, it was an incredibly close call, Frank had wanted to come over and meet the cats, and if he hadn’t got too busy and decided to stay at the office, he would have walked in with me and Ted would have been there and I would have had a stroke. Definitely made me grateful for the half-joint already rolled in the ashtray.
We’re talking so intimately now, months too late. He told me I’m angry and vicious, like when I got mad at Ian for the listings thing and ranted for an hour about what a fucking shitweasel he was. I’ll accept that I’m angry, but vicious was tough to hear.
Was I vicious to you? I asked. Sometimes, he said. I said that’s terrible news, I’m so sorry, I never wanted to be hurtful to you.
He didn’t acknowledge my apology. He went on to tell me that the way I cut people off is rotten, and he was always a little appalled by how cold I could be to former friends and how proud of my coldness I was.
It was like one long therapy session, and at a certain point, I did become impatient and exhausted, though I tried not to show it. Wondered, Why am I doing this? I don’t want to do this. I’m tired of trying to meet his needs when he doesn’t meet any of mine. It’s hard and painful. He needs a whole bunch of time and attention I don’t have to give. I get impatient and claustrophobic and it’s enough.
At the same time, this has been the most stable and constructive relationship I’ve ever had. Saying goodbye as he left last night was hard. Wanted to ask for my keys back but didn’t.
So many relationships, so little time. So much confusion, so little me. This stress is really eating me up. I wish I hadn’t brought it upon myself by flirting with Frank to the extent I did in the first place, much less by fucking him and practically promising to be his girlfriend, for crying out loud. He wanted me to come over the other night, but I had plans with Hil, and he was giving me guilt about it, and for one second I thought, Poor Jackson. Now I understand how he felt. Can’t even believe I wrote those words.
Still angry at Judith. Tired of feeling like her puppet. She qualified her statements somewhat yesterday: It’s not that I’m an unethical asshole who can’t be trusted to run my own life, she’s just concerned about the repercussions of my decisions on my ongoing mental health. Okay, I know. She’s only looking out for my best interests.
Not me. I’ve got a half-joint in my pocket and a phone number in the back of my notebook. Having dinner with Frank tonight because I want to, because I deserve it, after dealing with Ted and Judith and everyone else who wants me to feel like shit about myself because I want what I want.
I won’t fuck him, okay? I’ll just bask a little in the warmth of his wanting to. It’s just dinner. That’s not so terrible. I’m not such a terrible person, I’m not terrible. I’m just hungry.