Monday
November 1, 1999
She looked
out at the men sitting on the jalopy she knew probably didn't
run. Tires black and worn from being bald leaned up against
the fence. On her way to her job interview she looked around
and felt a cold feeling as the car moved through Cabrini Green.
On the
way back she felt a little intimidated and she understood that
there was no way anyone gets out of their car in this area.
She looked up at the buildings... building like from The
Full Monty and some of the knock 'em up and move 'em in
shit holes in Moscow.
Such a
strange existence. She wondered if the mothers there wanted
their babies to grow up and move out. Some people make it out
of there... I have heard stories. It seems so weird to think
that this is the kind of society people try so hard to be a
part of.
I got
the most beautiful letter in my box today from a guy I met on
the nin message board. He wrote:
on the way out i saw some girls practicing that Mexican stomping
dance thing. they had and instructor and they were practicing
their moves with traditional clothes and everything. it was
beautiful. i caught the eye of one of the women dancing and
she gave me a rude look which ruined it. why can't women accept
they are beautiful. why is it bad to admire their beauty. i
left after that defeated because it was no longer beautiful.
if women only understood how much power they have. one look
can ruin or make your day.-- brandon
It made
her a little sad to realize that women are too protective of
themselves. Made her think of the feminine role women in the
fifties got to play. Their job was to keep house and take care
of people. She thought maybe that is something lacking in today's
society.
Perhaps
she even yearned to be such a woman.
Sometimes
she would fantasize about a life where someone could take care
of her and she could stay at home and do whatever. But then
she remembered she already had that and she took care of herself.
Sometimes with a little help from Andy.
She thought
of what she meant to different men. She wondered when it would
come to a point in her life when a man would accept that relationships
take a very long time to develop and that having relationships
with several men was normal.
She wondered
if humans could ever accept that that's the way it could be
or if these assholes that shove their fucking "morals" down
their throats would always prevail. She wondered if she could
be that way and she often figured she could be. Just walk through
this life loving as many men as she possibly could by sharing
her soul and her body. Making broken men feel whole and know
that there are such creatures that exist and desire nothing
from you but such a deep seeded love in your heart.
She thought
it was a tragedy that people couldn't start off a relationship
thinking that it might not work but maybe sometime down the
road check back in with me and we will see what's going on.
She felt that way with several of her lovers. Thinking random
thoughts occasionally. 'This one was way too fucked in the head
and this one is way too selfish but I could live with some of
that' were just a few of her thoughts.
She desired
a great man. A man that knew his role. A strong man that fixed
her breakfast and did the dishes. Someone thoughtful enough
to bring her a freshly bloomed daisy from the side of the road.
Someone to write poetry. Someone well rounded.
She found
such men around her and she always tried to make it a pleasure
to be in her company.
On the
other side to his letter, she was one of the women other women
forgot to be. Someone that enjoyed cooking. Someone that could
put up a fight. Someone your friends would be sooo jealous of
the first time they heard her say 'cunt.'
Someone
that could laugh at herself and wear a strap-on dildo for Halloween
(pic coming soon!)
She knew
what power he was talking about in his letter. She realized
she had it last year in Europe. She hoped every woman reading
this went there alone at least once in their lives... alone...
with their skirts hiked for anyone desiring a quick midnight
fling.
Tuesday
November 2, 1999
She brushed
her fine hair out carefully. Thinking not only did the color
remind her of corn-silk but now it was as equally as fragile.
She hadn't
done much all day. Made lasagna for dinner. She prepared the
ingredients last night so the flavor had time to soak in.
Lots of
ideas whirling through her mind... a conversation with her grandmother
she felt did not persuade Granny to her way of thinking. She
explained why she didn't like going to church and all the falsities
she felt with being around other people. She was starting to
think his mask was no longer on so securely. The mask everyone
seemed to wear so no one knew who they really were.
She was
no happy with herself. As a matter of fact missing the plane
the other night really disturbed her. This was the second time
it had happened and the second time someone had been there to
get her. She finally deduced that if the worst thing she ever
did to anyone was miss her plane then maybe she wasn't such
a bad human after all.
However
the mounting e-mails from men was starting to concern her. Men
wanting to promise something that she wasn't sure she wanted.
Men that seemed like wonderful men all the same but men none
the less.
Last night's
Ally McBeal had her head whirling. At one point she screamed
out "It's just her frustration with men" and realized that was
her own projection. She felt the same way... that the thought
of kissing girls was yuck but the thought of kissing some girls
was perfectly natural. She lived with that part of herself under
a mask. It would be unnatural to assume that a beautiful creature
couldn't tempt even the straightest of women.
As she
watched the program unfold she thought how tame and boring.
Life never has such drama. It's never such an ordeal for a single
kiss. And she was amazed at the control they both showed in
lieu of their obvious attraction for one another.
It was
nice America was finally starting to deal with the gay issue
in a much more open forum. In the past, we have been lead to
believe such people were criminals but these days the worst
homophobia she experienced was from Christians and rednecks.
She found
it amusing that most languages had a word for redneck. Terra-on
in Italian and Kalhozekne (CAL-HOSE-NIK-EE) in Russian just
to name a few.
She thought
of how progressive the United States was presumed to be and
their juvenile attitudes toward naked people. She was a product
of such a culture so every once in a while she too giggled or
ogled a naked person with delight.
She saw
this awful website
on the news the other night where models were selling their
eggs. She wondered if the asshole running that shit told the
girls that it hurts to have your eggs sucked out of you... or
even if there was a valid IQ test run on any of these astounding
beauties that would look like shit without fancy photography
and great lighting.
For she
knew she could make anyone beautiful in front of her camera...
Wednesday
November 3, 1999
She woke
up from her dream to answer a query from Zack. He asked her
to step into the kitchen from a wonderful dream which left her
only with good feelings. For some reason Zack's query startled
her... like when her father used to wake her up and yell at
her. He has a simple question about the gravy... nothing that
was to cause such apprehension. Strange she thought that no
one ever wanted to harm her.The conversation they had last night
stirred up many feelings she had not shared with anyone in a
while.
Feelings
she kept deep inside of her. Traumatic things that she felt
the world could see tattooed on her head. Zack talked about
a lot of things as well. What she was most jealous of was the
consciousness he carried not to have the desire to take his
own life. To have never have felt so bad as to even attempt
although she knew everyone still thinks about it.
He told
her the three things that occupies people's mind the most are
sex, food and death. She believed it.
As they
were falling asleep she said "I'm glad you are my best friend.
I love you so much." So many things flashed in her mind as she
said this. How he stuck up for her when they too k her photos
down. How he looked when he was 18 and they were in Russian
together her first semester. How he used to walk around the
hall in school. The way his art flowed together to make a congruent
body of work. So many shared memories that enriched their relationship
to deeper levels. How they supported one another through the
best and worst of times. Even some of the more mundane times.
She knew
in her heart that she was closer to him then she could be with
anyone. She admired his strength of character and his kind heart
and loving nature... so unique and individually Zack. His humor,
his wit and his sometimes bitchy nature that was so endearing
to her heart. She saw him for the great man that he was instead
of what he sometimes wanted her to believe. Sometimes she had
to remind him herself.
He talked
about how some things were of such a personal nature... how
what she went through with her mother made her appreciate things
maybe other people couldn't. This is what she defined as being
a beautiful person. Someone that understood and felt the implication
of their life as they moved through it. Understanding the responsibilities
of her actions and doing the best she could not to hurt anyone.
She knew
she would be there for him when life started to throw him around.
She would know the right things to say to make it be ok just
as he simply loved her that week after her mother died. But
for now she took in his stories and delighted in the intricacies
of his travels and his art. Absorbed in his imagery.
Her heart
felt lighter after last night. She told him how she used to
live in constant fear. When she moved in with her mother she
had been extremely violent. There was not a door at her mother's
house that had it's original jambs.
She bridled
her temper and rage in order to make her a better artist. She
thanked her father for one thing and one thing only and that
was her overwhelming discipline. Being the daughter of a one
time drill Sargent had it's advantages.
But she
did not like living in fear of people. She tried to explain
her extreme extroverted personality to her grandmother just
the other day... that by being more extroverted people tended
to leave her alone and not ask any questions she would not be
comfortable with.
She felt
that she was getting away from those thoughts that used to consume
her mother... that her mother had inflicted upon her. She felt
like she was becoming her own person.
They also
discussed money and how they were raised. She told him that
when she was 15 and moved in with her mother and all they had
to eat were pot pies and peanut butter sandwiches where before
she had eaten steak and lamb. She told him that she wouldn't
trade those memories for all the money in the world because
she appreciated the life she had with her mother more because
it had been emotionally satisfying.
They both
agreed that the most important thing in life is having rich
emotional connections.
Thursday
November 4, 1999
She looked
out of the train as it made it's way past an advertisement for
HP printers. It was claiming to be just as good as the real
thing. She looked at the rose petals to the printer and thought
of the roses in American Beauty. She wondered if that was carefully
marketed or just coincidence.
She was
starting to feel paranoid again. That maybe she shouldn't leave
the house. She use to be that way about the sun. Now she yearned
to feel the warmth upon her skin. Sometimes she had problems
using public restrooms but after being in Russia and shitting
in holes she got over that.
And the
turbulence on the plane make her have butterflies all the way
in her ovaries. It was a very disturbing feeling today to think
that the plane could crash with her in it. She talked with other
people about such things. She felt it was a major psychological
problem caused by the over-saturation of the media and how it
wears out our senses. She also thought about how it damages
really sensitive people.
The first
time she saw real dead people on television was sleeping on
a couch in a tiny apartment with mosquitoes from hell buzzing
around her ear. She started to realize that they show came on
twice a day and it was talking about the crime in the area.
She thought
maybe since the Russians were exposed to such atrocities it
kept them more in line. Plus it sent a clear message to her
that you do not fuck with the Russian mafia, no matter how small
of a business person you were. She recognized the style of dress
one two of the corpses as being people that ran a booth at the
open market on the street. The first time she saw the food on
the street she died from fear... what kind of germs were on
this food and was this milk pasteurized...
When she
saw naked women on network news and realized the American movies
they were translating into Russian used the cuss words she about
died. There was no true freedom in her country. Everyone was
suppose to keep their sexuality suppressed while Europeans allow
such things to happen and their problems with rape and the like
was much lower.
It wasn't
until the last time she was in Moscow that she felt unsafe.
The first time in the three years she had spent the summer there.
Even at midnight the sky still had a dusky glow to it so it
was never completely dark. She wondered why the Russians didn't
go out at night like Americans do. But then she remembered there
were many traditions we dropped as we came here... or maybe
she was just not afraid. She couldn't tell.
Fear was
starting to surround her once again. She found herself being
OCD-ish about the toilet and the bathtub. She was by far a compulsive
cleaner but she knew even through the disorder of her house
she needed stuff surrounding her in order to keep her doing
something, anything.
What do
these three photos have in common?
Saturday
November 6, 1999
She watched
in horror as they showed blood on the streets. This war in Chechnya
has taken 3000 lives... Almost as many people that she went
to high school with.
She watched
the report on WORLD NEWS NOW early Friday morning. She listened
as the reporter talked of how this was different then what had
happened in the previous years. She thought the reporter was
full of shit. The Chechens were notorious hot heads from even
a century ago. She knew it must be true because in Lermontov's
A Hero of Our Time the opening paragraph talked about
how the Chechens were warriors back then and that was written
in the 1830s.
But since
she had read Hero of Our Time she had been to Russia.
She had a feel for what life was like for the Russians... and
she knew what it was like to be leered at by the Caucasians.
Standing in a metro more then once they blatantly stared at
her chest making her feel like one gigantic set of tits.
In Russia,
they are really prejudice. In America... the real prejudice
she saw was the sexism people exhibited. But this was all over
the world as well... just to a greater degree with the filth
that came through her TV and icons so easily made although they
contained no substance.
She received
a wonderful e-mail the other day... one filled with hate and
spite. She was beginning to believe that she loved the people
she pissed off because they gave her insights into her personality
that they think they can criticized. Things they think she has
never thought about before. Issues she resolved long ago.
(But what
she loved the most was getting e-mail that displayed someone
else's affection or admiration for her. Those were the e-mails
she lived for.)
She liked
hateful messages because of people's unwarranted anger they
held for her for simply existing. These were the lost souls
that would never find their way. The ones she would never understand
because she has gone too far already... She concerned herself
with the query for a while, thinking that maybe that person
was right before vehemently opposing the anger.
It no
longer mattered what her mother would think of her because her
mother was dead and she was more angry at her mother for dying
then she could be shamed into feeling guilt for revealing aspects
of her personality, herself to the world or even showing her
cunt on the web.
The letter
was a typical formula letter... one that her felonious brother
had sent her on many occasions. She wished he would show some
originality in his methods of abuse because his were outdated
an ineffective means.
She had
come to the point where nothing negative anyone said effected
her the way it used to. She could accept anyone's shitty behavior.
Maybe someone was having a bad day. Maybe someone hadn't found
the balance between what had happened to them versus what they
did. She even accepted certain atrocities her father performed
because he was simply unaware.
She never
did this page to hurt her father, that was just an added bonus.
She knew it bothered him... it had to. Her methods of abuse
were skilled and refined as a surgeon sucking the fat out of
some super star's labia. She also had this vengeful streak she
inherited from her mother. She usually kept it under check but
for those rare occasions she decided to use it and use it well.
But for
the most part she didn't bother. Unleashing anger was a destructive
behavior she usually saved for herself. People could see through
anger and get pieces of your life that no one else was entitled
to. She knew because she had picked out such information from
the minds of several people and it made her feel dirty each
time it happened.
She made
fried chicken last night and fed her friends. Grisha, Ben, Susan,
Andy and Kevvy Joe. Mashed potatoes with smoked Gouda cheese
and just a hint of garlic. It was good food, great company and
the Nutty Professor. "That's my little sister's (Anne's)
favorite movie."
Sunday
November 7, 1999
She looked
at the dog that looked vaguely familiar... it was too thin to
be Anise. She looked again and realized Duncan wasn't attacking
it but treating it like he knew it.
As she
walked down the bank of the creek she realized that yes, this
was indeed Lesli's dog and she was skin and bones... An apprehension
of God at this point.
It made
her sad to realize this dog was dying. Brought up memories of
her mother dying... and how thin she became.
She picked
the dog up... she used to weigh around 100 pounds... but she
looked barely like she could hold her head up. Lesli was very
sad about her dog dying as well. She looked away... She knew
what was bothering her older sister... she could feel it. Some
feelings she hadn't been confronted with for a little while...
the loss of a good companion.
She wanted
to do something to help nurse her back to health... but it was
too late to do anything to help her live much longer.
Monday
November 8, 1999
She had
been thinking about the many lovers she has been with and their
incredibly different styles. She could now determine what kind
of lover the person was going to be based on their personality.
Maybe
it was there all along... maybe it wasn't. People that had been
through a lot were more passionate about life... about love...
about giving themselves. Some people were lost and there was
no returning. Some men just needed more companionship. Some
men needed their asses kicked.
Her favorite
was when a man wanted to bring her just as much pleasure as
he made sure he had. Fuck all that shit about partners because
if you aren't partners in the bedroom you can never be in real
life.
Tuesday
November 9, 1999
SHE GOT
HER BABY IN THE MAIL!!!!!!!!
She ripped
open the package desperately wanting to feel her baby firmly
placed inside of her hand. It looked brand new and it worked
wonderfully that she could tell.
She...
didn't know what to say or do with her life. For now it seemed
it to beat softly.
Before
she had such a rage... a rage for everything... something that
made her passionate and fierce. She felt these days she was
settling into a sense of calm. She had dinner with Andy last
night... and went with him to get new shoes.
She could
not help but love this man... He was such a good, kind and decent
man. He confessed his anger that she was dating a man that reminded
him so much of himself...
He had
spoiled her when they dated. But at the same time he neglected
her. It got to the point where she couldn't deal with the constant
barrage of some show of emotion, that even tempered as he was
she needed that flux in order to feel normal. She had been kept
on the defensive for so much of her life that she was still
finding it difficult to not have some kind of strife in a relationship.
Not the
everyday bullshit wear and tear a couple went through... there
was no opportunity for growth in such kinds of relationships.
He had
been there for her for everything. The attempted suicide, the
second and third surgeries... he held her when he mother was
dying and for this she had so much love in her heart for him.
He helped make her whole by loving her the only way he could...
but it still was not enough. She needed more from a relationship
even though he gave her so much.
She saw
her life with him mapped out in her dead mother's eyes. She
heard it from her grandmother and even thought of his mother
telling her she would be a great teacher.
She didn't
want to teach for a living... she wanted to soar to greater
heights. Become a greater man. When she looked around and started
to see so few people it made her want to crash back down from
the clouds and fall to a painful death.
But these
days... these days she could barely get out of the house to
do anything. Sitting at home processing over and over again
so many of the events that had happened in her life. There were
too many things to think about... the way the sun went down
in Prague, the smell of diseased garbage laying on a city street,
the feeling of the airplane engine as it rushed over her ovaries.
All the wonderful experiences she had had in the past two years
presented themselves for display constantly in the many caverns
of her consciousness.
Sometimes
it was hard to tell the difference between a premonition she
had ad in a dream and reality. Laying under the tree the other
day with Kevin led her to believe that was a premonition coming
true. Looking through the sunlight at the trees... it almost
70 degrees!!! In November...
Dark...no
sun... no sun...Dark... no sun... no sun... Dark... no sun...
Dark... no sun
No walls... no room...
no walls... no room...
Dark no sun
No walls... no room...
No door no walls no room...
November
Anyways...
She remembered that maybe that poem is by Shel Silverstein which
in turn was performed by the Art of Noise. This is the only
poem she knew by heart...
Focus...
breathe... think of what you want out of life.
Her car...
her teeth... it will all be ok. Everything will work itself
out. It always does.
Thursday
November 11, 1999
She laid
in bed wondering about the conversation she had last night with
Ben.
Last night
she had a kick ass dream about being in Moscow/St. Petersburg.
As dreams often do the cities were merged into one. The ugly
statue devoted to Peter the first was part of her dream only
it was more horrendous then how she remembered it in real life.
She spied someone's wallet laying around in the dream and she
ran up and stole it. She ran as far as she could from where
she found the wallet. As she got higher above the city, she
noticed that there were homes all around her. Beautiful homes.
Homes that were taken care of.
She got
up to the top of the hill and looked to the right and saw the
Industrial sector of the city. Smoke stacks stood as sentries
guarding the nasty secrets. She looked back down the road and
decided it was wrong to keep all the money even though she could
use it. All the babushke coming up the hill stopped her and
commented on this or that. She looked down into the
bay like she was in San Fran and had a much better view
of that ugly red boat that Peter the First's head stood out
so prominently.
She could
not find the metro anywhere. She stepped into a building that
housed a Goethe museum... and walked passed the bench where
she found the wallet and magically acquired his satchel as well.
She figured he was some tourist loser that deserved to lose
his money.
She walked
around trying to find a metro station in the building because
everyone she asked told her there was one there. She contemplated
throwing the satchel away once again and running with the money
when she got to the third floor and stepped into the room where
the metro was supposed to be and there was an assembly going
on.
She took
a seat in the back of the huge classroom and realized that the
man who was missing his wallet was the front runner for whatever
conference was going on and he was so cute that she woke up
since the beeper was going off.
She woke
up next to Kevin. He didn't have to work today because of it
being Veterans day. They were getting along better. She figured
he was on his best behavior because his family was coming for
Thanksgiving and he wanted to have some kind of semblance of
a relationship.
She was
being good because she did not want to spend the holidays alone.
She and
Ben had talked at great lengths about their respective relationships.
He was not happy with her answer that she did not want to spend
the holidays alone. She didn't really care how bad it sounded,
she missed her mother and although it was just a band-aid over
a wound, it was sticky enough to hold the wound together and
keep it from being a gaping hole.
He was
also being better to her because all his friends at work were
quitting. The comradery he felt just a few months ago was dissipating
and she was there. Bitchily, sexually, depressed... but she
was still there.
Ben teased
her for becoming a recluse. She couldn't help it. There were
things... patterns in her mind that she was trying to make sense
of.
Trying
to shed her skin from a life that was given to her versus the
one she was trying to obtain was not an easy process. She had
to think and re-think certain patterns that were wrong... certain
attitudes that no longer applied to her as a person any longer.
It was
like this whole journal... she didn't hold many of the things
that happened to her close to her heart... they were just events
or experiences that she lived through. She was on a quest to
become a more beautiful woman and she realized, unfortunately
that in order to reach this goal a person had to overcome many
of the fucked up beliefs in which this society was based upon.
The semblance of normalcy which was held together by a tiny
golden thread... the belief she could overcome anything was
no longer a luxury she cared to entertain.
Sunday
November 14, 1999
The water
was hot. After listening to him go on and on about homosexuals
she was not confident in her decision to go through with what
she said she would do earlier this morning. After hearing his
sermon and blaming the downfall of society on homosexuals she
was fairly angry.... actually she was very pissed. But she had
already been "saved"...
"Does
this mean I can't say cunt in polite conversation?" she thought
to herself.
She decided
that being baptized did not mean she was going to change her
life that drastically. She was a good woman, a great friend
and she didn't need the baggage religion liked to saddle people
with.
She did
it for herself a little and her grandmother a little more. This
was a woman that had sacrificed so much of her life in order
to ensure that she could become a woman. This woman took care
of her when she was laying in the hospital and made sure that
there was food on the table when her dead mother had no money
to put food on the table. This was a woman that loved her unconditionally
and she could tell her everything that tortured her soul so
she could realize that maybe she wasn't such a freak after all.
If Granny
believed that the only way they could be together after death
was by doing this little act, she figured she could place her
pride and stubbornness aside to please her and ease her grandmother's
soul by knowing she was "saved".
The sermon
on homosexuality disturbed her greatly. As did how a man is
supposed to love Jesus more then his wife... and that he should
follow his Lord more then he should listen to his wife.
There
is a way to control such men, she discovered. It's a little
trick called keeping your legs shut.
She adored
the preacher's family. They were a strong family and they were
a good family which is why she decided to let this man do this
to her. She knew that the secret behind a strong man was not
him, but the strength and intelligence of the person that he
shared a pillow with each night.
"I'm sorry
if I have offended anyone with my sermon... but I am preaching
the word of God"
BULLSHIT.
You are preaching intolerance to people that are so anestesized
to life they can't make their own decisions or think for themselves.
You are preaching hate and crimes committed against someone
because they choose to have an abortion or lay in what you consider
sin. What happened to love thy neighbor? Who in the hell are
you to judge anybody? He who has not sinned cast the first stone.
(Thank
you, Elizabeth, for being my first true guide and mentor...
for giving me the awareness to see through the atrocities of
words and understand their true meanings.)
As she
sat in her grandfather's chair she thought it was a much greater
crime to preach intolerance and hate rather then joy and love.
It seemed to her the message of Jesus was lost in the pages
of the bible. It seemed to her that the message he taught about
women being equal with men was somehow overlooked in each and
every sermon she heard.
"You have
a present laying before you and you leave it unopened for days
and weeks. You know it's expensive by the wrapping. Then one
day it's stolen. Was the gift ever yours?" (implying that the
gift was the word of God)
No...
but she has a letter from her mother that to this day she still
had not read. It was not in a safe place, but she had an idea
where it was. If someone took it away from her and she never
read how much her mother loved her or how she remembered this,
that or the other she would be sad but the thought that her
mother thought enough about her to write her a letter specifically
for her after her death was enough of a gift for her.
"When
you have a toy and it's no longer new and you put it down and
you no longer derive any pleasure from it... what do you have?
(implying that pleasure is a sin.)
She had
many toys she utilized. Her cameras, her computers, and most
essentially her vibrators never lost their pension for giving
her a decent amount of pleasure every time she utilized them.
And weren't her talents and "gifts from God" accentuated with
such "toys"?
And then
there was the pleasure she derived from men. She thought of
many of her lovers and how each and every one of them had loved
her in their special way. She may not have been in love with
all of them but she did love them... loved them enough to let
them enter her body and share her soul if only for a brief moment
in time. To feel that close and intimate... to feel her head
spin as she felt closer to God as the orgasms washed over her
as waves gently lap at a beach. To her, this was true spirituality...
when every part of her mind, her body, and soul merged in complete
divinity.
Her sexuality
was something she prized greatly in a society that denied so
many simple pleasures... pleasures of the flesh were not a crime
she felt. There was to be a balance between instinct and man's
law... however she found man's law to be so oppressive.
She could
not whole heartily pronounce to the world "I am a Christian"
because the church taught that a woman's place was behind a
man and hers was a place not many people dared to travel. He
preached about being lost in the woods and she thought of The
Blair Witch Project. He went on about how he tried many
different paths and none led him out... Hers was a path that
had not been taken before... she looked around at her peers
and decided maybe she had gone too far, that maybe she was a
bit too experienced for her age. She found that wisdom was like
age... you can never go back.
He preached
about never looking back... Ironic how one can preach such things
when the whole faith was based on a book that could never look
forward and offered few solutions to the problems faced by many
people in this day and age.
She thanked
God she was not born a man and expected to fill the same shoes
as Jesus. And she was also happy she was a woman because it
was just in her nature to be a temptress and a man is not supposed
to listen to a woman more then himself so she felt like she
was off the hook to lead a staunch Christian existence. And
to believe in Christianity the way they want you to is to totally
deny yourself when she believed it should be like installing
64K of Ram...
No...
there were many things about religion that she didn't have to
swallow... but now her grandmother believed that they would
be joined in heaven when she died, and that was enough reason
to let Jesus into her heart... it was a big heart and she had
plenty of room to spare.
Monday
November 15, 1999
She wanted
so much to believe that there was something... better then what
she felt right now. Echo advised her to go on meds. She had
been told this many times before by different people but she
was afraid of what might happen...
She fought
so hard to become free from medication. Her Great Aunt told
her yesterday that when she was on Inderal she could go anything...
her heart rate was so slow that it made her fearless. Perhaps
it was time to go on the Inderal once again because as the weather
changed, she noticed how her head was beginning to give her
more trouble again.
Wednesday
November 17, 1999
The drive
home was always settling. The lull of driving for over an hour
had a calming effect on her. She was able to think of a lot
of things.
They moved
some chairs from storage so they could have Thanksgiving at
her place next week.
She decided
once again that maybe she didn't need the medication... she
was just working through a lot of problems she had never thought
of.
"Did you
ever skip dinner?" she asked as they watched The Simpsons.
(Bart was being punished for destroying things).
"Do I
look like a boy that ever missed a dinner?" She laughed.
"It got
so bad with him that sometimes I would sleep through dinner
just so I wouldn't have to be around him. I would wake up after
he had gone to bed, eat whatever Anne left me in the Microwave
and then stick my fingers down my throat."
"I love
it when you share these stories." he said sarcastically.
She had
forgotten how she spent many of her days when she lived with
the man that was supposed to love her. She moved in with her
grandparents after trying to kill herself with aspirin and the
fear of going to high school with the same people that tormented
her as a child was too overwhelming.
She and
her best friend, the one that always wanted her to kiss her,
were upset with the way they were being treated. Her dad had
yelled at her after opening mail sent to her from one of those
places where you order make-up through the mail. She had no
way of paying for it and he yelled at her about how she wasted
$8 on crap and there was no way he was going to pay for it.
She thought
about the time she asked him for some money and they argued
about her not doing chores and she won that argument by yelling
at him that she needed money to buy tampons.
But living
with her grandparents when she was 14 was both a blessing and
a curse. The bliss from coming home everyday to a stable, normal
existence where she had a place to do her homework and her grandmother
cared for her. That was the first time in her life that she
could remember anyone attending to all her needs. A curse because
the redneck girl's at Boyle County hated her and she was beat
up one day on the soccer field because Chastity Lane had lied
and said she had called her a bitch.
She was
too much of a city girl to ever fit in a country school so she
returned the next year to live in hell with her father and to
her surprise people did not pick on her like they used to. Things
changed in high school... hormones kicked in and boys noticed
her body no matter how hard she tried to hide it.
She thought
about a lot of pieces of herself that were never attended to
since the event had occur. She decided part of her anguish stemmed
from allowing herself to feel some of the pain by remembering
just how bad things had been.
Pieces...
so many pieces to her fractures psyche that naturally they no
longer fit back in any order but were there just to serve as
markers and reminders of how much she'd changed.
It was
strange to think of herself sticking her finger down her throat.
She taught all her friends and even her sister how to do it.
They say that the sexually abused woman's eating disorder of
choice was bulimia. She knew in her heart that she had never
been abused that way physically, but mentally...
She found
it sooo ironic that her dad was becoming an expert on defending
women against sexual harassment considering what he did to his
own daughters.
She got
to see Lesli and the boys today when they went out to storage.
Nate was becoming quite a character. She and Kevin were play
fighting and he snapped a smart ass comment that left her reeling.
He also bragged about a girl that professed her love to him
today. "Before you ever think about kissing her you and me need
to have a talk about that."
She picked
him up and he was getting so big. "What am I going to do when
I can't pick you up anymore?" She knew he had at least 2 more
good years and then after that he would be too big.
"I was
telling Granny the other day about how I don't want her to talk
about dying anymore."
"Because
you miss Bo?" he asked unexpectedly. He was a very bright boy
and wanted to show that he understood me. "I miss Bo."
"I do
too."
She thought
maybe she was making too big a deal about it lately... but it
was only her second Christmas without her mom and when she put
it to herself that way it made sense.
She missed
the closeness she shared with her mom. No one came that close
to her except for her grandmother and Zack. She didn't know
how to ask for her friend's help... to make it not hurt so bad
but then she knew this was one of those things she had to go
through on her own.
She didn't
want to get stuck in a place she did not belong but she knew
she needed to spend some time there to bring out a couple of
pieces and help to make her whole again.
Thursday
November 18, 1999
It was
a struggle with shadows, a story of not meeting the loved one
but long one's self in the other~Anais Nin, Winter of
Artifice.
As she
read through what Miss Nin had written in this particular story
she felt how many of the truths that she felt in her heart applied
to her own life. She wanted to scream for her to run and get
away from the man that hurt her so deeply only to realize that
there is no escape from the very blood that runs through her
veins.
Issues
of abandonment, A loss of so much life because the fantasy of
daddy coming to save her would never quite happen. She read
many of the words of the woman she desired to surpass with her
own writing and saw herself sitting next to Miss Nin on a couch
reliving memories that stung them both even today. It did not
matter that she was no longer alive... through her words she
could still see the pain. They were both lost little girls trying
to find a solution to a problem as complex as man is old.
Why did
my daddy hurt me so bad?
She thought
of her own father and although she figured out many of the fractures
in his pyche that led him to abuse her as a child she could
still not get over the damage. She tried to cut it off only
to have it grow back. She tried to kill it only to find herself
sitting next to a schizophrenic woman in a mental institution.
She tried to confront him but her words, her anger, her deep
seeded rage was more powerful then even he could understand.
She tried to understand it as she looked down at her nephews
when they angered her but still there was no way she would allow
herself to express such emotions and damage them. She tried
to run away only to find that somehow, some way he followed
her where ever she traveled. There was no escape from him or
his jealously or his abuse. He would always be a part of her,
shaping her into the woman he wanted her to be through silent
comments and inattentive ways.
To forget
such things would be a crime against the very person she was.
She could no longer deny it and she was no longer ashamed. She
tried to remember that he was the one that was fucked up and
she was simply a reflection of the abuse and "love" he had filled
her with.
She thought
of him and how he implied she would always be fucked up and
that was because she had been the empty vessel which he filled
with rage, hate and animosity.
But she
wasn't like him. She refused to hate. She pushed hate the the
far reaches of her heart to allow it to rot off the edges and
allow the love that was a part of her true nature pump itself
richly through her blood.
She read
the first sentence of her journal again. She realized that the
closest she had come to finding anyone that matched her heart
was Zack and that's why that shit the preacher was saying the
other day made her cry so much. She refused to believe that
any expression of love was a sin. Hate was the sin, and she
knew that for a fact because she spent many years of her life
bathing in her hatred. She no longer choose to hate anyone.
Not even her brother because hatred took too much energy away
from her soul, her imagination and her deep seeded desire to
be loved as much as she could be loved.
She could
still say fuck her brother, but there was no feeling behind
the memory for what he had done... only pity because he never
came out of his bath of hatred.
Zack had
told her there was no evil in hating, but she knew that she
could hold such a deep hatred for things that it was just easier
to expel all hatred. Zack was so incredibly beautiful. The things
that made her love him never dissipated but the memories she
had for him were filled with love. Even the fight they had that
had hurt them both served as a reminder to her that there was
nothing to be gained by hurting one another.
She needed
him. She needed his guidance and support through all the storms
that she faced. He was good to her and she returned and nurtured
the love she had for him in return. She thought that this was
the way most relationships should go but they often fell short.
She could also see so much of herself in him.
As an
adult, she could emotionally carry on no matter what happened
to her but the fractured child that resided in her was inconsolable.
She wished many times that she could love her the way she deserved
to be loved so as an adult she wouldn't be so starved for affection
and attention.
Friday
November 19, 1999
If you
are feeling a little odd today
...it makes sense. Today is the last all-odd date on the Gregorian
calendar for over 1000 years. Today is 11/19/1999, every digit
odd. The next all-odd date will be 1/1/3111. I doubt any of
us will be alive then.
Interestingly,
the next all even date is 2/2/2000. I hope we all live until
then! The last all-even date was 8/28/888. The next all-odd
date was 1/1/911, almost 33 years later. For someone to have
lived both an all-even and all-odd date, they'd have to have
been born before 8/28/888 and lived through 1/1/911. Since the
life expectancy in those days was around 30, probably not many
made it.
Anyway,
keep in mind, it will never be this odd again in our lifetimes.
Thanks
Mike for this e-mail... it made me laugh.
Monday
November 22, 1999
She was
emotionally drained and overwhelmed. Thanksgiving at her place...
so much to do. Putting the curtains up gave her place a certain
level of dignity it did not have before.
There
was cleaning to do, turkey to be cooked, more food to be made.
She loved her new Swiffer.
She felt like her house was cleaner now.
She wanted
nothing more but to put her head on her pillow and her tits
in his back as she drifted off to the wonderful dreams she had
been having lately.
Tuesday
November 23, 1999
She was
exhausted. After a short call to access more money she found
out her investments had almost doubled in less then a year and
she was ecstatic. SHE WASN'T FLAT BROKE!
This allowed
a reprieve from the sadness that was overwhelming her heart
as of late. Plus the slum lord was cited for the building not
being up to code. All week she had cleaned and put things away
in some place so her apartment wasn't so disheveled. The see-through
ivory shears added that extra touch of class that made her actually
start to enjoy the space she was living in.
Her apartment
was cute, and she was proud to call it home. As unique and eclectic
as her own personality but much more tidy then ever before.
She was enjoying Oregon Chai with soy milk and whip cream
to ease her tender throat from a constant barrage of drainage.
Kevin sat quietly intermittently looking through magazines and
watching TV. They had spaghetti for dinner.
Zack was
going to be here tomorrow and he told her she had a little something
for her! Everything seemed to be falling into place. Although
she was sad that one of Lesli's students died, she was happy
to be with her nephews. She and Nate went and saw the Pokeman
movie Sunday and enjoyed the message of unity it had and could
not understand why American parents were not happy with this
cartoon.
Her cousin
Julie had written to her. She had over 150 messages in her mailbox.
She was so tired. She was feeling fragile. She was thinking
of the new more pc design of her site and how she wanted to
work more regularly. She was thinking about a lot of things...
she had a little less then three months to try to sort her life
out so she could start the first even day of her life on the
right foot.
Her bills
had not been paid this month, but the money was on the way.
Her thoughts and mind were coming back together. She was going
to Boston on the forth. Everything would be ok. She decided
not to freak out about not having a job... she had money...
she had just forgotten how to breathe for a while.
Wednesday
November 24, 1999
Hey you...
you sitting there... you thinking that you can tell me that
you don't like me writing in third person. Fuck you. Who's diary
is this? Have I EVER not come through in entertaining YOUR ASS?
I do this for you... and this is the thanks I get for deciding
to CHANGE so I can stand to read my own fucking diary
for a CHANGE. You know... I haven't read it since mom
died? I can't. It hurts me way too much to know these things
happen to me. But when it happens to Her it doesn't hurt
me as bad. Plus I like Her better then me. I'm the one
in transition and I want to be Her for a while... not
me. If you don't like it... then :-P~~~
Last night
was wonderful. They actually had a sit down dinner at her table
for the first time. His review was yesterday at work. This determines
if he is going to stay at the Public Defender's office.
She
was lovey dovey all night. She went to see her friend's
Matt and Susan and She always has the best conversations
with them. She felt comfortable expressing herself to
them.
She
came home and snuggled with him. She told him to at least
act excited that he was getting some. She took off her
clothes and got on top of him. "How did it feel to fuck me like
a virgin?" She asked earlier.
He just
laughed. To him her sins had not been absolved. She was
still the same person.
She
kissed and rubbed up against him with his clothes on until he
decided it was time to undress. She continued to rub
and gyrate against him until he could take it no more and gently
slid it inside her. She did not like being on top that
much but did it to please him. He told her the other day he
still had not come with her on top.
She
was so lazy. But as they continued She realized that
She could go at her own speed, and teach him how to make
love her even better by hitting those spots so slow and more
explosively. Every time he went in deeper She felt him
hit her g-spot which was like a firecracker of pleasure each
time he hit it with the tip of his cock. She felt the
electricity run all the way to the tips of her fingers to the
bottom of her blood-colored toes.
She
continued languidly until he pulled her down next to his body
so they were tight like two beetles facing one another. He lifted
his hips and started to go at a much faster pace which took
her breath away from the constant explosions he was causing
her body to experience. She felt all kinds of sensations
She had not let her body experience since the last time.
The last
time She felt such strong feelings she felt like the
was going to fall into her soul. It was so beautiful how he
made love to her. It scared her because She felt deep,
intense feelings that She had never felt before and that
scared her more then anything she had ever experienced.
Happy
Thanksgiving!!!
Thursday
November 25, 1999
She
was thankful for poon-tang pie and WWF wrestlers that like to
get more then half-naked to entertain many, many people. She
was thankful to Anne for talking about how much she took one
of her ex loves for granted (which made her appreciate Kevvy
Joe). She was thankful for this awful cold so She
couldn't even enjoy the flavor of her dinner. She was
thankful for Granny telling her her photographs were
"sickening." And for some reason She was grateful that
her mom was dead and that She was forced to find a different
life.
Well
Kevvy Joe told me to leave them up.
She
was tired and sick and feeling like She was flying the
entire time today. Anne arrived by 10. Lesli & Co. arrived next,
then Grisha. No Granny and Pop. Then Kevin's mom and sister.
No Granny and Pop?
She
cooked... She worried. She cooked... She
worried. She cooked... She worried. She
called Granny. She called Lesli's. Anne left to look
for them when Doug called and found them.
Lesli
talked about losing a student earlier this week, and how her
dog of more then ten years died the other day. They hugged their
older sister and She thought of their mother.
Kevin's
mom and sister were tired from their drive. His sister made
her laugh because her attitude and snap backs reminded her
of some of the things She said.
She
continued to feel spacey. Zack got to finally meet Anne today.
She was very thankful for that. She was thankful
for her friends. She was thankful for her family. And
most of all, She was very Thankful for her readers.
There
are going to be a lot of changes soon. She decided she
was going to change her site around again.
Monday
November 29, 1999
Zack was
here last night. They talked and chatted about families.
She told
him "My father is a direct line of Cassius, I think. I have
been told so many stories I don't know what to believe at this
point (although consulting a genealogy chart would end that).
His brother or Son was Green Clay who fought in one of the wars.
His son was Samuel, my great grandfather, who was an attorney,
his son was James, who was commonwealth attorney, and his son
is my father, Thomas, who is an attorney. (so in a way you can
say my family helped make Kentucky law what it is today). Cassius
was an abolitionist. Muhammad Ali was named after him as was
his father in order to honor the Clay's for freeing them. When
a slave was set free they usually took on their owner's last
names.
"In contrast,
my mother's family were... I remember Granny once telling me
that she hated it when her mother used the word 'cunt'. She
was pretty much a hillbilly straight through."
Zack asked
something along the line of "Then why did your dad go for your
mom?"
"Because
she was so fucking beautiful."
She took
out the pictures of her mother as she developed, the ones she
had, and she could not get over the resemblance of how they
both looked so much alike. Little Patsy was what her grandfather's
mother had called her. So much history riding on a person tends
to make them rebel and become into someone nobody anticipated.
"Mom married
Lesli's daddy, who played for the Chicago Bulls in the first
seasons, and when she was pregnant she found out he was cheating
on her and got the other woman pregnant. Lesli has never seen
her daddy. She came back to Danville and found dad again and
he married her." Back then having a child by another man was
a capital offense. Especially in the red-neck po-dunk backwards-ass
society that was Danville. Where a woman's place was in the
kitchen and she fucking liked it that way. It hasn't changed
too terribly much today only the women don't like it that way.
We can do it ourselves much better these days, thank you.
"She had
dad join the military so he wouldn't be enlisted and they were
stationed in Germany for the nightmare that was Vietnam. That's
where she got my desk and other things. That's where Thomas
was born and I was conceived. They moved back to the states
and mom was teaching in Danville while dad was in Korea while
I was born. (He likes to think I am not his even though I am
an exact match for Anne's bone marrow and carry his blood, O+
{the only blood immune to the black plague} in my veins). He
came back and we moved to Louisville. They were bussing in Jefferson
County so he moved us to Oldham County so we wouldn't be raised
with any cultural diversity. I would have been so fucking normal
if I had been raised here (I assume).
"After
they moved then the divorce started to take place and then they
fought over us like two cocks with scalpel spurs. I always used
to feel like there was something wrong with me, that I did something
bad to make them fight over me like that. It wasn't even an
issue of what I wanted because I was seen as a possession by
the court. Dad got the cherry dining room table and custody
while momma got the house that he signed over to her when she
was still building it. She fucked him on that one, thankfully.
She later told me 'I was looking for this piece of paper where
he signed the house over to me and I was frantically looking
for it when it just floated from the sky.'"
They went
to court over us more then 60 times. Momma spent all of her
money trying to get custody of us. Dad was considered the better
parent ONLY because he was an attorney. I think momma knew things
about him that I don't. After reading some of Julie's letters
I am safe in assuming that Dad was probably locked up in his
room when he was bad which is why he put a lock on his door
when I was a teen. He wouldn't buy us clothes so we went in
his closet and wore his and then his shirts were missing and
he was pissed so he locked us out of his room with mine and
Anne's TV in it that he had given to us for Christmas one year.
Kevin's
sister was telling me to pick out a car that I wanted at Churchill
Downs the other day. I wouldn't do it because I overheard my
dad say "I'm going to be buried in my car (Porsche)."
Fuck that
kind of materialism. I would rather travel and enjoy my life
then waste it on shit.
I'm taking
a few days off... I need the rest.
