radiate okayness

Saturday, Spetember 7, 1996
10:15am, train

Good morning, and welcome to an entirely different situation. Got my tarot read on the air yesterday afternoon in front of just about everyone and the tarot reader immediately predicted the relationship with Frank It was pretty funny. I must say I actually enjoyed it. Except for the part where she turned a card over, and there was a guy dead on his stomach with 20 swords sticking out of his back and she says, so you just ended a relationship.

Why tell myself the same stories I tell everyone the same way? Tarot lady also told me to beware of acting like my mother, which scares me. I’d hoped I was completely over that, the way I like to think I’m totally over everything, but as incidents like yesterday prove, I have a ways to go.

So, let’s give me some credit. I think I handled myself okay yesterday. And today I put my hands together and promised to take good care of myself today.

Josh and Jim Hall are now privy to the info about me and Frank, so I hope they feel special. Josh was saying, none of my business, none of my business. And, yeah, and so what, I said to Frank last night, So what? We’re nice people and we like each other a lot. It’s not bad.

The psychic said I wouldn’t get over Ted until the middle of October. How high am I?  Forgot the date. Forget it. It’s Saturday, September 7, and I know all this already, but I can’t explain any of it. All I can do is relay events.

Oh my, my, yes, mine. I’m being deliberately silly because I can go acknowledge the ledge with my toes while my head stays back and watches. And yet, I stay calm and continue moving forward, even if I made bad choices.

So, last night was silly and I’m already exhausted and annoyed by the idea of more obligation and game playing. How dumb. And why am I going to Williamsburg to see Ted tonight? Guilt, obligation, desire?

Sunday, September 8, 1996
1:15pm, train

I’m going to be late to this SoHo Arts reading, thinking I don’t know what to read. I’m glad I brought everything. I should call Galinsky and let him know I’m going to be late. Somewhat fluttery all over, somewhat thrilled to be alive and doing things, having friends and making them. Working. Everything’s going to be OK. I think I could handle just about anything at this point, except maybe a big bust/recrimination scene.

I’m thinking how purging it is to be rejected rather than doing the rejecting. So, okay, everything is so superficial and deep. Feel instead of analyze. How does this feel? Two tense and risky. Disaster is a self-fulfilling prophecy. What am I going to read? Wish I’d brought “Collette”. I’m going to have to remember before leaving the house to think what I need.

Said to Frank on Friday, be less insecure. Talking about writing in bed. And then he says, I can’t see you tomorrow, I feel too much for you so I have a date with someone else. One, two, three, whatever.

Shopped with Hil and bought four shirts. Last night at Fat Rabbit read copies of Elle and Bazaar. Don’t know why I jumped in so fast and hard with Frank, don’t know what to do about it except go on. I didn’t write for two weeks right around my birthday, which is officially over.

Almost there. Okay. Good, calm, slow, peace. Radiate okayness. Be good, admit love and honor, don’t succumb to anxiety, be less insecure.

Monday, September 9, 1996
10:15am, train

And yet, everything really is okay. Was very uptight yesterday at the reading, realizing I don’t like poetry for performance and rarely have. Yes. So, first of all, Joey John made me hugely edgy on Friday and I was uptight about today, but I know I’ll be fine. Let him worry, not me.

Then Frank. I guess I was pretty angry and annoyed by him Saturday night and it carried over. Also pissed off because the reading was overbooked, it just doesn’t show respect. Then, tech problems, feedback, a crying baby while I was reading with dry mouth the whole time. I kept running away to get high with Steve.

It’s such a beautiful day. And to stuff myself into a tense dark room? For why? I’ll get away up to the roof, away from the building. The roof is my friend, my work is my refuge. I can read over my stories so I don’t have to talk or look up. I can feel good about myself and what I’m doing. I can feel positive and know that I’m so right, I’m alright, and maybe Mat will be there early this morning, or someone I can stand.

Anne knows about me and Ted. I could tell by her hostile manner. Well, fuck her, that stupid fishwife. I’m tired of people’s ignorant judgments.

Got home after the reading yesterday and Ted was there. I napped briefly and then we went for sushi, holding hands across the table, our eyes full of tears. I love him so much. He brought it up again. Before he fell asleep we were talking about what to do next. He said both Abel and Vik told him to cut me off. Don’t speak to me or see me, but that’s not what he wants. I said, if that’s the way it has to be I understand. I’ve love you and I’ll always be here if you want contact.

He said he still wants to be around. This is the most beautiful and meaningful relationship I’ve had. And this has, curiously, been the best part, except the guilt, which I’m working with. Saying goodbye as he left last night was hard.

I keep trying to work it out so the thing with Frank isn’t wrong, but it was wrong. It was wrong to get emotionally and physically involved with Frank while I was still involved with Ted. God, I hope Ted is okay. He seems to be dealing with it well.

And I’m angry and sick of trying to take care of people, so there’s the problem. Then Frank called last night to tell me he’s sorry he was an ass on Saturday and everything’s okay over there.

Shit, it’s only Monday. Don’t want Frank to spend the night at my place just yet. Definitely don’t want Judith to harsh on me. Everything is getting better in my life, except my timing, which remains somewhat lousy.

Didn’t do salute to the sun, but didn’t do salute to the bong either, so I must be okay. Not great, not terrible. Some days I’m great. I don’t think I’ll be great until I get over this sadness and guilt re: Ted. Maybe I don’t deserve to. Of course I do. Everybody deserves to move on, so I will. Let’s go.