Where the words went.

Here's what I'm gonna post cuz here's where I've been writing. They're letters to. Obviously. But no-- it's not like that, because I haven't sent a single one... I think maybe... it's just easier writing to him because I know he rabidly reads and because I'm trying to seduce him or engage with him or whatever the hell I've been trying to do... But these are the words I want to put here... So... I'm gonna just post like, what I wrote him each day, starting the Saturday before last and... it'll just be like... it's my pretty much my damn journal anyway.

He told me I could write to him... He told me instead of thinking about the conversations we're not going to have, to think about the ones we've had... He told me I should take an hour out, twice a week, whenever we would and get away from everything and just think and write and he said I could probably imagine what he'd say anyway....


Conversations+Revelations with Julian

Day 2 of 20*: 'Nother No Good Horrible Very Bad Day

*the math genius here really could not understand how exactly 20 days apart could become exactly three weeks-- 21 days apart-- before realizing that, like with scales, the last note of a scale acts as the first note of the next. So that last Friday doesn't count.

So I was freaking out in the shower because I'd left the front door open a crack for ventilation and I couldn't see Madeline and I was thinking it's UNLIKELY but maybe she'd jumped out and I'd have to go looking for her and I was thinking I'd probably want to write you this because it would be an awful scare--

Ugh, Jare's coming over in a minute with vicodin-- but I'm gonna tell him I have to finish writing this first-- and I was just thinking, it's a damn shame I told him to come over before I started writing you and feeling better.

But anyway, I thought, I wouldnt wanna tell anyone else about the Madeline thing I mean why, why bother, I just don't care for anyone to know, but I'd wanna tell you, and I'd tell you, and youd probably tell me something funny, about what she was thinking when she ran out, and you'd PROBABLY, you'd probably CONNECT it to something we'd talked about before-- like I mentioned these neighbors now-- you'd probably make some joke connecting Madeline to the neighbors, that would simultaneously deflate the stress of both situations-- and make me feel understood, because you remember things, you remember people's things you remember everything. Is that a technique psychologists learn for therapy, or is that just how you talk?... If only everyone spoke like that, so sharp and quick and with it, obviously present and understanding and really hot and sexy and thoughtful and not just half asleep glancing over at the TV...

This is what you do, Jul, when you talk, when you talk to me, when we talk to each other, you make connections all the time. It's beautiful, it's structure... And you know, how my biggest fear in life, really, the biggest Issue, is that nothing is connected to anything else kinda... Nothing's really tied together... I mean, I know there aren't that many people walking around or into your office plagued with Fear and Trembling over Nothing is connected to anything else, so, this can be simplified, depersonalized, universalized, sophomoricated, for psychological and sociological consistency, we're all in the same boat like, to the existential crisis of Meaning and Why Am I Here and even just plain old Fear of Mortality. Does it every time. I mean, I'm like, WHY do that, what's the purpose, it's like Freudian dream analysis, ok, nothing's special we all just wish we had a dick, right?

But if we're gonna simplify, then this is MY simplification: You connect everything when we talk, when I don't talk to you I sometimes feel disconnected, this connection thing boils down to meaning, which boils down to value, in this big ol bunsen burner you science people use, so, my equation becomes, therefore, ergo: With you life has meaning--> Life has no meaning without you.

Interior Decorating

I am one tired lady. I tried to go to bed earlyish last night but it was tough... I don't even know when I got to sleep but I kept waking up... Then I woke up at 8 and went for a run. I totally cleaned and also rearranged my furniture and the doma looks so much better and feels so much more comfortable. Jesus. That feng shui musta been pretty off.

But now I'm so tired. I wanna take a nap. I'm meeting Sunny at 7 for dinner. I can't afford dinner though. I'll probably get coffee. Or a soup. And then, of course, work.

I hung out with Cam last night. We did his scene thing again. He's real attractive. And sweet. We're gonna go to the beach tomorrow, and the Gogol Bordello show. And he hasn't like, kissed me or anything yet. (I mean we've slept with each other and kinda dated like a year and a half ago but I mean now...) And he always almost does and walks me home and then says good bye. And I really like it. And obviously we flirt a lot and he's always trying to impress me and over the three times we hung out gotten more touchy and stuff. And you know. I know he likes me.

But this makes me think. Maybe none of these people like me. Maybe they're just flirting with me to be flirty.

I mean... Cam really liked me before... the last time... and men have fallen all over me, been crushed, made fools of themselves, poured their hearts out for the first time ever, and proposed, with diamond rings, introduced me to family, etc, etc, always. Hot shot lawyers, millionaires, rockstars, nice boys from Idaho, married, single, young, old, mobsters, Christians, all nationalities. And all the guys I meet in the club. And at the shows.

But... maybe, some of it is just all in my head... I mean... I need a mirror... all the time... I see myself in photos and I feel like that person is beautiful but it's not me... Or onscreen... and I always feel like I just don't look like that anymore... I only feel pretty when I'm seeing myself onscreen or in a mirror at the club or when people are watching me and telling me I'm pretty. I'm like... It's not even that important, because I just don't care anymore. But it's important because... it really makes me wonder if I'm just delusional all the time. If the club and the pictures made me think, or the particular men, and I'm not anything attractive or anything anyone would wanna be with. I damn sure don't feel pretty right now. I don't have any nice clothes AT ALL. NOTHING.



But. now that I've moved the bed, the breeze and the sunlight coming through the window are caressing my body and there's nothing more beautiful than that...

Blue-hoo.

So I got through all the unwarranted stress of this week... I'm just depressed. I feel like a part of me was cut out with a knife, and there's a hole now.

I started writing Julian last night, a long old e-mail. And I just didn't send it.

You're right Kat hot men are just always flirty. And I'm just another person he's just naturally flirty with. And that's it. And it makes me really sad. That's all.

I gotta catch up on reading and writing and a whole buncha stuff... but I'm cold here at the cafe so I'm gonna run home right now. I will soon.

Man.

Ok I'm going to WORK tomorrow night that's what I'm going to do. Maybe even tonight. Yeah. F' it. Yeah. Okay. Can someone please, how do I just misinterpret everything to this degree? I need to make a list of all the thing's he actually said. Without my stupid, wishful thinking obsession it would say nothing standard shrink sh*t I'm sure. Possibly even just arrogant and getting off on the flattery. I need to stop this. He made me feel so good... What the #$*&?? Could he really be this much of a jerk? Because, I don't know if what he's doing, if it's just therapeutic technique, is helping me right now, or doing any good. Or if any of the things he's done that HAVE been good are going to stick around now. I feel horrible. I feel like such a f'in loser. I really do. I do just want to know... even if every lick of interpretation was off, isn't he being unprofessional in some ways? At all? From what you can tell? Someone, anyone?

I MEAN WOW. I'M GONNA GET REALLY DEPRESSED NOW. FOR A WHILE, PROBABLY. And he's not gonna care. As a therapist or as a person. If I just didn't come in again, he'd probably have his secretary give a call and that would be it. I WANT MY FUCKING MONEY BACK. ASSHOLE. OMG. Why wouldn't he make it more clear. And be nicer about it. To try to teach me something? Fuck. Seriously!? He was not exactly discouraging. He said "I'm not going to try talk you out your feelings." Maybe that's what he was doing, with his pathetic attempt gay question. And being a jerk, in general yesterday. Maybe it's all in my head. I'm done with it. Done. Done.

This was all. A terrible. Experience. When all is said and done. What the F have I been doing for 6 months. Okay. AM I REALLY REALLY STUPID? No. This is common. It's ok. I'm sad. And pathetic. And I want to die. Not to go get my hair done. But that works too. Oh god, a million depressing, nasty thoughts in my head right now. Ok, end result of this stupid experiment, is, there's no result, because the subject is an idiot. So my results are meaningless. Curtain.

Stop. Stop. Stopstopstopstop

I know what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna do what he did, I'm gonna say I've been meaning to ask you....... I know you don't do this, but.................... can you refer me to someone for that sedative thing that doesn't slow you down?

HA!!!!!!!!

I don't have the balls!

He changed my appointment to EIGHT PM ON FRIDAY.

Thank god I'm a little slow, because I never react to anything, because it doesn't process til later. I KNOW, it's meaningless, I KNOW. But Jesus Mary and Joseph. EIGHT PM ON A FRIDAY--

EIGHT PM ON A FRIDAY.

A Knock on the Door

I'm not feelin' too hot today.

Exchange with Julian this morning, e-mailed me to set up next week's schedule in advance. I'd like to say that he's never done that before. He hasn't. But does that mean anything? Did any of any of this mean anything? I feel like a fool. I responded with a couple paragraphs of slick Joycean prose and glib gratitude for letting me know about my makeup. He's probably married. Fuck it all.

There was a knock on my door this afternoon... I hate that, had some bad experiences with stalkers and things... I wasn't dressed and looked through the peephole and it was a neighbor I've seen like twice who FB'd me. He had a Christmas card and he just slid it through the peephole when I opened it, smiling. He said "It's okay, I know it's a weird neighborhood... I just saw your FB post a while ago and wanted to know if you're doing better..." I was so moved...