spin the dimes
Tuesday, December 24, 1996
10am, train
Got out of work yesterday before the stress was able to get me down. Made a smooth exit, ready to deal with my Dad as discussed with Judith. Went home to make the call and my phone was dead, so I cry, and I go to the pay phone on the corner, and that phone is dead too.
So I go down to Seventh Avenue and call NYNEX–the point is my phone was dead, and I wanted to get that call to my dad taken care of and behind me last night. But now I have to sit through a full tense day before I can deal with it. And I was depressed and anxious and wanted to talk to someone but Frank is home with his family. And my god damned phone is out for no reason anyway.
I’m having a hard time, smoked a whole joint and liked it, and my stomach is killing me.
Also realized I’m mad at Galinsky for fucking up and leaving me with all this shit work to do, so fuck him. Told him the other night, I don’t agree with your philosophy centering around live events, we need to buckle down. I need help getting the important shit done.
I don’t feel like calling my dad, it’s like a bad dream, the phone thing. And the payphone, even the one that worked, I had to spin the dimes to get the fucking thing to work.
I feel awful, I’m totally angry about work. I know today will suck, well that’s a great attitude. I’m so pissed at my dad, and NYNEX. At least Tony agrees with the notes I made this weekend re: the company. I want something else in my life besides work, I just don’t know what it is.
Sunday December 29, 1996
11am, train
The truth is I must be in great shape to be holding up as well as I do, though last night both pot and TV were a great help in calming down and in thinking about other things after calling my dad. Getting in a huge screaming argument, it sucks. He refuses to admit he’s wrong, I’m right, he accused me of being afraid to go to a shrink with him for fear of finding out I’m wrong. God he really got my goat, which made me think he won, but he didn’t, and he won’t.
OK, so I was unprepared. I have so much I want to say and it feels awful and overwhelming, and I can’t believe I let myself get dragged into it over and over with him, that’s what kills me, and I don’t want to be killed.
Boy do I feel lousy today, holding up but don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep on without blowing my stack. There’s a lot of pressure and hardly any respite. I don’t how to heal. Should I buy more pot? I ran out.
Should I write him a long letter? Yes. I have to, I have to get it out and make it clear. He should feel remorse and pain and one one-thousandth of the suffering he brought down on me. I told him you made things this way, not me. You refused to change, or to treat me differently, there’s nothing I can do about it except walk away. How could he have demanded forgiveness for all those years, he never asked, he should beg and cry for my forgiveness. He should reconnect with his pain so he can finally get over it, and stop taking it out on others.
Oh boy, was he incendiary, he was awful last night. Snide. All right, Janice, if you never want to deal with me again that’s fine, we just have a few details to take care of. Can’t wait to see Judith tomorrow. I feel shitty and there’s a huge party tonight.
Yes indeed, love myself. Dreamed last night of a conversation with Ava where I was telling her calmly that I didn’t want to have anything to do with her. And she was being flattering but it just wasn’t working. I feel better about my conversation with my dad now. It is truly the beginning of the end. And maybe there are three thousand things I’d still like to say before never speaking to him again. But I think I can afford to know them without saying them.
Friday, January 3, 1997
10:15am, train
On my way to Judith’s if the train would ever come, and I hope I don’t get too wrecked. Of course work will be a total breeze today after last night’s Roseland gig. Which was a bore, except I looked great which was entertaining for a short while. And though I smoked yesterday morning, I only had two hits at the party so I’m still pretty much on track.
Ted called from the corner yesterday, and I went down and sat with him at Texas Rotisserie for a while. He’s doing great, a whole new person, much more conscious. And he said he’s changed so much, he can really feel the difference in his attitudes. I’m very happy, and proud, if I can take any credit.
Clinging these past few days to thoughts of Frank, being held and comforted, and encouraged and admired. And it doesn’t solve anything but it salves a little, so good, it’s all for the good. And next week my schedule changes again and I’m calm, so calm.
And I signed up to see my mother and brother this Sunday, though I just saw them. And tonight I’ll see Frank after a few days away and feel the comfort and love. Such as it is. And why put it down? So it’s not the cure-all I’d thought romantic love was supposed to be. Or maybe my feelings for him aren’t as strong as they might be if he was the one, but I suspect it’s good right now and may be forever.
A woman wanted to share a cab from Rose Land last night, she runs something called the Apology Line where you can call and confess and apologize. I can’t wait to call and hear more.
It’s a wonderful decision to cut my father out of my life, I’ll have to be on the lookout for guilt and nostalgia.