Kristian’s death has affected me more than I might admit. Rather foolishly I had a picture of him on my phone that lit up every time somebody called. I deleted it today-I was making myself sadder than I needed to be.
Found myself looking at pornography last night-late-trying to soothe myself-trying to throw a warm blanket over my feelings. It didn’t work. I still woke up this morning overwhelmed with fear. I wrote to John:
5am. Waking up in huge amounts of fear. Crushing, overwhelming fear. Think I may have come to the end of the line. Cannot go on. Making bad decisions. Can’t face anything. Financial ruin facing me. Nowhere to run to. Don’t trust anyone. Obsessed. Looked at porn this morning to try to sooth me-did not work. Nothing works. Do not see any more life ahead of me.
As dawn broke over the mountain I expected those particular ghouls to vanish, yet, those pesky demons lingered all day-like they were waiting patiently to claim me.
My father died when he was 53.
Found myself looking at pornography..
Now, that sounds like it happened to me rather than me searching around for that perfect porn moment. Porn is like research, it’s scholarly, frustrating, intense.
Feeling desperately sad. Not sobbing like when the Darling Big Dog was killed.
Cannot listen to Kate Bush or Soft Cell (remember listening with him) but rather strangely listening to the Spice Girls, which softens the edges-like having a wank.
Throwing the towel in. “Goodbye my friend.” Remember when we were best friends with Matt Rowe who wrote all those huge number one hits? “Goodbye my friend.” Remember New Years Eve at The Mercer Hotel in NYC with Melanie Sporty Spice and Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman? Odd mixture that night? What a night.
So I’m chatting with a friend about his childhood and he tells me that his father was sent to prison when he was 11 years old. The only way he knew how to deal with the shame was to lie to his classmates. He knew where his father was but told his friends that his father was on a business trip-he told lies because the truth was far too complicated. Gosh, I related to that. Lying to make life easier: My father is on a business trip. Telling palatable childish lies leading to a life of fantasy, pornography, disconnection.
It took me so long to let the truth set me free. Now I try so hard to tell the truth. Lyle brought word from England that I had a terrible temper. Oh yes, I remember that. My temper was a daily occurrence for so long. Before I went to Sex Rehab I really had no idea why I was so angry-after sex rehab I fully understood why I was angry and the mechanism that controlled it. So, to all that I shouted at and screamed at and made cry-I was wrong, I was wrong, I was wrong.
Sorry to repeat myself but..
When Kristian died suddenly a door opened into a world I considered closed to me. I had considered suicide for as long as I can remember but never seriously. Death, after all, is a very long time. Suddenly there are enough fun people in the after life that I might have a good time. Giggle with. I am not scared of death-I was just scared of being bored when I got there-now with Kristian dead-death seems like a realistic option. Holding the door open for me.
I am looking for clues for what might keep me alive? What can I believe in?
This morning I heard John talking about being asleep and how much of the time I have been asleep. I fall asleep when I first meet some one-a deep sleep. I always thought that it was because I felt comfortable but now I see that it was to escape intimacy or worse that something might happen to me.
Moths in my clothes, little dog pawing at me…home sick for Whitstable, for Battersea Park..can we walk there together you and I?
Selling art-legitimate source of misery? My friends didn’t want to buy my art. They want to buy art from a legitimate source. Funny.
Lying. It’s a choice. To tell the truth or lie? It seems obvious doesn’t it? Well, these muddled days, as Michael Moore reminded us when he picked up his Oscar, are ‘Lying times’. Within a relationship there are all kinds of lies but I don’t want to tell HIM lies. I just want him to know the truth.
The silence in the Malibu Mountains, the thudding base from the music playing in the apartment above my Hollywood apartment. Both the silence and the interminable base making my head ache. My head aches.
The questions that haunt me: How could he have taken such a risk? How can he be calling me to join him there and why am I listening?
One day I will write about FULL DISCLOSURE-a most unsavory practice.
I love you MR DARLING NYC-you are keeping me alive, your love and your perfect smile are keeping the worst of these terrible demons from driving me to the gates of hell.
