tension and anxiety, mutual but separate

Monday, January 22, 1996
9:15am, train

It’s already 9:15 and I’m still on the train.  The reading was pretty good on Friday, in that I did a good job, and the small audience enjoyed it a lot.  Also, I had fun.  Also, J. Reed is definitely threatened by me, which I’ll choose to take as a compliment.

I’m going to the gym today. I can’t stand feeling shitty about the way I look all the time and not doing anything about it. Ted was wondering why it’s so hard to wake up and I didn’t say, It’s the pot. If we hadn’t smoked about five joints yesterday it’d be a lot easier.

I’m glad he’s going skiing for his birthday. It’ll give me some perspective.  Also, absence makes the heart grow fonder. I like feeling close to somebody and there are many terrific things about him, but is he the right somebody or am I just looking to put him in that role so someone’s there?

I was saying this morning how much I’d like to be a freelance writer, sleep as long as I wanted every day, not have to stress on the trains every morning, etc. I’d like to map out my ideal life so I can make it happen.

Wish I could tell my mother that I don’t’ really want to see her, like, at all.  I don’t want to spend any time talking to her or being in her presence.

Arizona impressions: Hiding out in the shadow of the next step, resting on the mesas. Looking down into the canyons. When I think of that trip, I think of a lot of tension and anxiety, mutual but separate.

Last night I was telling Ted, “Honey, am I a pain in the ass?” and he said “No, of course not dear,” and I said “Oh, you play along so well,” and as I was leaving I pulled a feint just like my mother’s. Oh it’s old, old, old, Honey. It’s so old, it’s Sharon Olds.

There is a picture of me, Jackson, and Ava at one of those festivals with the zeppele and the tilt-a-whirl on Carmine Street.  We were coming from a reading Eliza had organized. Ava was mad at Jackson for reading a poem about me. Meanwhile, I was all broken up about Eliza. Eliza was doing everything she could to torture me, including inviting my best friends to read at her series, so I would have to go just to show how great I am about everything.

Me and Jackson and Ava were walking together towards the street fair. Ava was determined to ignore Jackson, so she was paying a lot of attention to me.  I had been paying a lot of attention to Eliza and Eliza was paying a lot of attention to the attention I paid her. The poetry game.

Wednesday, January 24, 1996
8:10am, train

Words feel like a trick today. I feel somewhat removed. Four readings in February, which is ridiculous. Do I want to do them or not? I should definitely lay off the readings which I’ve been saying for two years.  It’s too much pressure.

This guy is telling his wife/woman he’s sick of waiting for the train to move. “We’ll probably sit on the bridge forever once we even get there.” He says, “That bridge is not safe.”  A stop later I’ve decided I hate this guy. Not horrible consuming hate, just antipathy, mild disgust with people and myself. There is progress. Was disgusted with the woman for humoring him.  If you keep humoring him, he’ll keep acting that way, and then we’re all stuck bearing the burden of the behavior.

Put my thumb in my mouth so briefly last night after sex, when Ted went to answer the door.  Always remember that as my special time with myself, when they’d leave me alone in the bed for whatever reason and I got to really satisfy myself in private by sucking my thumb.

Had a potluck dinner at Ted and Noah’s on Saturday. It was quite nice. I enjoyed being involved, and also the clean up and doing dishes was extraordinarily enjoyable. I also cooked breakfast on Saturday, French toast, and Sunday, omelettes. Fulfilling was the word I was looking for. Not enjoyable.

I’m so glad that certain things don’t hurt anymore, that I deflated them and their potency is gone. I like to think it’s because I wrote about them.

How in the world am I supposed to write and carry on a relationship at the same time?

Not looking forward to seeing Judith lately as it’s just been hard and painful and hard work, and when my symptoms are relatively mild I feel fine and unwilling to do more painful excavation.  I guess that’s the only way.

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