whole enterprise is fucked

Friday, December 13, 1996
10am, train

Had a good time on the air yesterday evening but was chattery after I had a few tiny hits with Dan. Then came home, stretched, cooked, cleaned, dealt with my desk and finally smoked. I felt it all hit me, jitters and fears. So now it’s just a toss-up between being furiously angry and stressed or furiously fearful and jittery.

Judith telling me once I feel secure, it won’t matter what anyone does they won’t be able to hurt me.  Who cares if my father never comes around?  My desire to deal with him is at an all-time low anyway.

Saw Ted last night and felt pretty sad. At the sushi place felt like I would drop dead from anger and frustration when the waiter disappeared. Oh, I don’t want to write about it. Stomach still not in the best of shape. Psyched I’m going to Judith today.

Ted is still loving, hoping, thinking, and not moving on. Am I? Was annoyed we only talked about him. He never asked how things were with me. He wants to loathe me and I don’t blame him. I guess I’m not helping. I think about going hiking with him, those weekends away.

Thinking more about this phone psychic character, who she is.  How she hardly knows herself and what her history’s been. Talking about it with Frank yesterday at lunch, I got some clues as to why I’m blocked on it. It’s about love for the world, which I have been having trouble accessing lately.

Felt anxious and depressed in the company meeting yesterday. Felt unimportant, felt like the whole enterprise is fucked, but I am rebounding. Spent a lot of time last night feeling sad over Ted. Someone called and left a hang up at midnight. I star 69-ed but they had it blocked. Was it him? Paul? Frank? Which ex or which current?

Saturday, December 14, 1996
7pm, home

Should be writing but this counts too. Galinsky went haywire everywhere yesterday, firing Josh the engineer, and getting into a huge blow-out with Joey John. Then I got snippy at the creative meeting. I like my shit to run tight.  That’s my style, at least ideally.

How easily my eyes fill with tears sometimes. Putzed around at work a few hours today then went to Franks’s where I laid down with him, happy to doze and wound up making love. Holding each other so incredibly close afterwards, so loving and cuddling. Then did it again and I was overwhelmed. Imbued with the sense of closeness, caring, and want.

The hard part was last night after getting high and watching TV, I felt bad. Spoke to Harriet. Wanted to talk to someone else, called Hil and she was going out with J. Which made me feel angry then freaked out that I was trying to live her life. That I didn’t have anyone else I felt close enough to call.

Frank’s with his brother tonight and tomorrow, I have all night to myself.  Silly, I have every night to myself.

Sunday, December 15, 1996
Home

Well, just for a change of pace, it’s anger and misery. Had a dream about living with my mom. When I woke up, I was so cranky and miserable because I think just cutting down on pot isn’t doing it. I think I have to totally quit, which sucks. And why did I tell the guy from Lucky’s Juice Joint that I quit?

Miserable and angry at Mat. Why does everyone else at work think they can be such a fucking prima donna and only do what they want?

I’m afraid of being alone in my house too much because all there is to do is either smoke pot or think about smoking pot or wish I still sucked my thumb or something. I guess I’ve just been putting this off, this anger and whatever else it is, feelings of craziness, of weakness. And maybe tonight I’ll throw out the paraphernalia. Oh, I don’t know. The whole issue is so consuming right now.

I do just want to suck my thumb and cry and rock back and forth and give up. And I don’t want to smoke. It makes me feel lousy. I don’t want to wallow. I just want to get it out, get it out of me. I want never to have had it in the first place. There’s the rub. And I’m sick of all my friends and cohorts. I’m sick of everything I do and have and am and know and I’m sick.

My stomach is really not good. And I need to know what’s true and when I’m lying or exaggerating. And I need help, is what I need. And change is really hard. And I’m tired, though I slept a lot. And I don’t feel like writing anymore. I don’t feel like anything. I’m not supposed to take care of people anymore. I want to cry and cry in someone’s arms and be truly comforted and held, without guilt. Smoking makes me feel like hell, and not smoking makes me anxious.

My stomach hurts and I want to cry right now and here. My heart hurts, my soul hurts, the weather sucks, and I feel like I have nothing to look forward to except more and more hard work. And how disappointed I already am by other people. How it’ll only get worse as I get better and have no one to be an equal.