ook, chapter 1, page 11
5-27-90 5:16am
Dream: I am going to see The Smith's at 7:00 but somebody is taking a long time ( John Kass? ). The Smith's are on TV, it semms I'm already there.I laugh about how we're going to see The Smith's but I'd rather see them on TV. I fumble putting on my socks. When we get there, they're done. But while they were on ( maybe it was simulcast live?) and it felt I was in the auditorium, Morrissey, who looked ( and i thought was ) and ugly woman who lokoed like a man--slightly fat. s/he was singing "william, it was really nothing" s/he got out a sandwhich to eat on stage despite his/her fatness, then , to my shock, cut his forehead with a razorblade, then his/her big lipsticked mouth cut it on both sides to make it wider as a symbol of self hatred--that he was making it ( his mouth) wider for the sandwhich because he didn't need it, he was already so fat. I was shocked at this impact. I noticed all the rest of the band had multiple bruises, cuts, and scars, too. But when I arrived and the band was done ( morrissey? ) took off his long wig and make up and i realized it had been a man. They were laughing about people thought he was a woman. Things seemed relaxed. There were many people backstage. I started a food fight that was mostly snack food like potato chips and pretzels. It was fun. People let go more. Then I started a rythym on a table ( there were a lot of those desks from school there ). We were all in a circle, some sitting in the desks , some standing. People spontaneously added to the rhythym, other people added things or chants. Sometimes it would seem to fall apart but I insisted and kept my chant and beat, people beside me looked and listened to me intently to follow what I was doing. It ended up sounding really cool. The Smith's were having fun , too and seemed impressed. I thought to myself, " oh, this is what it is like when people collaborate". It was easier than i thought and it was fun to see what other people cam eup with.
I woke up in a 1/2 state and tried to wake myself fully, something in my clothes rack looked like a white rabbit ( day, the rabbit in introducing sorrow ). Things were hazy. Finally I woke myself and went downstairs for something to drink. My eyes were strobiong in the dark. I thought Dawn is the time of ghosts, but tried quickly to banish that thought. Came upstairs and somehow I thought about how depressed I was about Cris when I went to sleep and somehow, right now, it doesn't bother me. Song Lyric?: "I cut myself wider to receive more pain".
5-27-90 10:46am
Dear Cris,
I don't knwo if this is the right thing to do. But I don't feel I should see
you anymore. Don't call me. Your bad points outweigh your good points right
now, maybe they always have and I couldn't see it. I thought maybe you'd changed
when you came back from New Orleans, but you're worse. You're detached, selfish,
mean, narcissistic and sick and you've added another 17 year old to your list.
You can't have me in the way you have everyone else. You can't treat me so soecial
one moment and the next like dirt. You have no respect for anything. All you
know is you and you don't even know that. YOU ARE alone. I am alone now, too,
but thank god I'm not like you. You're doomed and you love it. You sure missed
the point of everything. You are so blind. goodbye.
5-28-90
Last night I dreamt that there was a big lake/swamp in some parts...very deep
and i was retrieving the cold , stiff, white bodies of my friends, mostly people
at work. Some it really bothered me to see dead. It was me and somebody else
and I think some of the bodies were burned.
A next and related dream: my friend Kristin ( my best friend 6th-9th grade)
died in a simultaneous car crash/drowning and I had to go to her funeral which
would've been the day of her wedding.
I had a nap this
afternoon and had another dream I was with Cris and somebody else and we passed
a huge mansion with a cemetary in the front. It was Winter/Fall. The center
focal point was a statue of a robed man that had cracked in half, inside was
a pipe. On his breast was engraved a lock busted open and lightning bolts coming
out of it in gold. It said somewhere, "what you reap so shall you sow"
A statue of the Virgin Mary was in front of it with two little statues of other
things at both sides of her. Around all of this in a circle was hands coming
out of the earth with spouts coming out of them which were watering the graves
about them. I wanted to find out who's mansion it was, a gravestone or marker
we were pronouncing...is it Day or Die or Eye?
But it was spelled BE+'s
The owners cam eout and it was cris' Dad and his wife margaret. They said it
was pronounced "BETS".
and I thought, "oh yes, how obvious". There was a gravestone in the
back of the big statue that siad MEEL. Then we left. Other stuff happened but
it was mostly wanting to get a cheeseburger.
The next dream , which I think was in a park, I was talking to Ed and he showed me some of his band's new equipment. It was a giant wooden rollercoaster thing that a giant wooden ball rolled around in that when it moved it, it made such nice wooden tones very low. And some giant things entwined about it like carved out broccoli or arteries. My body floated over this. It covered a vast area and when I moved over it, it was in stereo, but more. He said, " This is the bass part". It was really low but it was more like a thunderstorm, the beginning of one or the beginning of a wild Pink Floyd song. The ball rolled and it sounded to be under the Earth, too. It shook the trees and made the wind blow in the trees and I was just freaking that you could write a sing that incoorporated nature in such a flowing way and spontaneous. I was in awe and thought, " How can I compete with something like that?"
Cris and I have
been sort of getting along lately, if you could call it that. It's too exhausting
for me to write about thoroughly and probably pointless, as well. But we've
made a sort of "contract" where he will not have "sex" or
"oral sex" with anyone else beesides me so that I will not be tormented
and we can at least be sort of friends without me freaking out in the hopes
that I will come around to letting him not have to promise. Well, good luck,
Cris.
It really sounds stupid to me, but hey, love is weird.
I think all i've got left riding on this guy is sex, because I think of sex
as love--which i feel it is with us. I feel so connected--to something--when
we make love--- it's absolutely electric when we touch, and his scent and how
he looks. I'm hoping he'll come around. Good Luck, Rachael.
Today was Memorial
Day, not that that means anything, but whatever. I got up at 11:00 or before
even though I was up until 4:30am watching dumb movies like "The Man Who
Died Twice" and "Fraulien". So i got up and read an Anais Nin
story and maybe that excited me, so I called up Cris and said , "can I
come over and make love to you in the warm summer breezes?" and got graphic.
He said OK. I said I'll be over soon, go back to sleep. So I was excited and
I took a bath and put lipstick on my nipples and vagina and drew on myself and
wore blue and red lipstick and brought with me some thigh high nylons and high
heel stilletto shoes with zippers up the back and my stretchy black lace dress.
I bought some berry wine coolers and since Garden of Eden was closed and I wanted
to get some oil, I went to Lund's and got sunflower oil and vanilla extract
and some milk 'cause he asked me and some nectarines and pears. Then I went
to Rendevous and got some morning glory and almosd poppy seed muffins. It was
1:30pm when I got there and he was still sleeping. I was rushing about getting
plates for things and he was hald asleep and crabby like he always is when he
wakes up. He said, "settle down , you're making me nervous." I was
just excited and hadn't eaten yet either and adrenalin was rushing through me.
My hands were shaking. I went into the bathroom to change into my "outfit".
He yells will I make him some coffee. This irritates me, but I'm not going to
let it ge to me---so I do. Somehow in this outfit and making coffee I feel like
a slave/whore with no self respect. But I'm not going to let it ruin my mood.
So I do everything cheerfully. He is more friendly when he sees what I'm wearing.
I pick up a nectarine and I eat it on his bed with my legs spread apart. I tease
him and we eat breakfast. I down a wine cooler. He put on The Cure which was
very appropriate---so bittersweet. We get extremely oily nad fuck passionately
with my nylons and shoes still on. He eats me and I come convulsively. I want
to cry but I can't. He holds me and I curl up beside him. But I'm determined
not to get all sad on him like I've been lately. I decide to be string and leave
soon after, so as not to overstay my welcome. I take a shower and dress and
he is being nice to me now. I feel he is taking me a small percentage less for
granted. I leave on a strong and good note.
I'm very tired when I come home at 4:00pm and Lorna and Jim ( my roomates )
are having a yard sale like they have a lot recently. I like living with them.
Yesterday Lorna and I were talking for a very long time and she said she's really
glad i moved in ( she owns the house ). That made me feel so nice. I'm starting
to feel a lot more at home now, especially since I have my own room. It was
80 degrees today or more. I have my window open and I can feel the first real
summer day cooling off. I hear slight wind through trees and of course cars,
as always. Three more days left of May. I haven't called Vaughn since the 24th,
he called on the 25th and I haven't called him back. I suppose I should soon.
I just don't feel like kissing him again. He's a strange guy. It's hard to get
really comfortable with him, at least yet. These last two days off I've enjoyed
finally. I haven't done much, just trying to rest from so much stress. I think
writing lately has helped a lot. Such an excorcism. It's never been like that
before, I don't think. I'm pretty tired again.
5-29-90
"I think , therefore I am confused"
---from the Tao of Pooh
Question for Cris: I you live so much in the Here and Now, then why did you ruin a good thing by becoming dissatisfied and going off to search for "something" when it was there all along? If you believe everything is how it should be, then why were you dissatisfied? Why are you so hard on yourself, others, and the world? Why did you ruin what you've got by looking for it?
Sex is like death in that you surrender, let it take you. You do not know where you will go, but you trust Death to be there, like your lover. I cannot die to someone I do not love so completely that I can lose myself without the faer of being lost.
I've been reading Anais Nin all day. I have a slight headache and I took some
advil and it seems stuck in my throat for hours. The stories anger me because
maybe they touch too close to real life. I wonder if some of the characters
are how Cris feels. Everyone is always cheating on someone or playing mind games
or trying to figure the other person out by becoming what they think s/he needs
and losing themselves or something. So much jealousy, wondering, possessiveness,
self-doubt, worry, narcisissim, selfishness. Battle between the sexes. Being
"too" in love. Can you be? I feel angered at my need to be loved.
I am imprisoned by it. I need it at the cost of all else. How awful.
5-30-90
10:22am
Dear Cris,
Making love to you is so bittersweet. I long to make love to you as we were
so long ago---with no sadness in my heart, no wondering if this will be the
last time, and no doubt in my mind that you wouldn't do this with someone else
or want to badly. Every morning I wake up, I wonder if Nikki or Arden is in
your bed. How I long to sleep with you again, to wake up and see you next to
me. Are you so crabby in the morning with them as you are with me? Do they wake
up and smile at you as I do? And do you love that? I don't know how much longer
I can go on with this torture and I don't know if I have the strength not to
see you or call you at all. You say you must test yourself to know that your
heart is true. If you were truly in love, that thought would never even cross
your mind, in fact, it would repulse you. What am I to do? I wish you would
move away, you cause me so much pain. You make me crazy. I am so constantly
always sad and fearful. My stomache and heart ache. My brain aches trying to
rationalize this all or make some sense of it or trying to get rid of you out
of my system. YOu are so cruel to keep me hooked on this line, a fish half way
in water, half gasping.
It's so hard for me to remember how we used to be. The way you act now makes
me wonder if i never knew you. Knowing you now makes me wonder why I want to
know you. I can't believe I used to sleep with you in such peace. But I guess
I was always a little insecure that you would leave me. Did this drive you to
doubt? No, that makes no sense. If you loved me you would console me and not
get angry. Were you nagry because you doubted yourself? If I really think about
it, there were little times i felt truly secure with your love. At first our
relationship was based on our unhealthy wanting to destroy ourselves. And then
months of you being intensely possesive and jealous of me even having lunch
with a woman. You would get angry and throw things. and then you would nit-pick
me about everything I did to the point of violence. I feared sometimes for my
life---or yours. And then when you started on your Prozac, there was the temporary
relief of you finally being social. Then it didn't stop. You excluded me from
everything, so secretive and assuming my respinses would be negative. You drove
me to hate sensuality and the darkness when you excluded me from it. And now
I am redefining myself and where I am. And you are slowly being painted out
of MY picture.
song title: sabatour
( sp?)
and All or Nothing
You know, I have
to keep adding to this because bit by bit things are coming back to me. Like
how you really treated me like shit so many times, like in the cemetary when
you were taking pictures how you would yell at me to keep up with you, but yet
I couldn't actually be WITH you. You demanded that I not go off on my own, even
for a second, yet denied me yours. How I cried so hard against the tombstone
at your cruelness. you getting mad at the child in me for finding pleasure in
so many things when I window shopped or wanting to show you something you didn't
want to know about it, only your schedule. You hated it when I looked lovingly
at you while you shaved and how I wanted to kiss you in the morning. How I wanted
to share things with you and you scorned I was always interrupting you. You
had no tolerance for my nervousness when all I wanted was your acceptance, not
a speech.
ha ha! Now the radio is playing U2's " I can't live with or without you"!
The only times
you wanted me was in the beginning when we were on a road to death or when I
tormented you with my dancing/stripping to finance my album. And how jealous
you are of me atht I do have a direction! It seems it was usually after sex
that you looked at me with loving abandon, and then your eyes would cloud over
with life's invisible burdens on you. You never wanted to be free of them. SO
BLIND YOU ARE TO LOVE AND HOW BLIND I AM BECAUSE OF IT.
You vampire on youth yet you discourage the child in me! I think i'm finally
starting to fall out of love with you. How could I be so stupid twice? The nurturer
in me? Waiting , waiting, waiting , trying in vain to show you the light? Hoping
you will see how much I love you and be moved for more than a few fleeting minutes.
How rae it is! Maybe when you are an old man you will understand and maybe it
will be too late? My wanting for revenge. You only hate when the object you
love doesn't love you back.
Now I am outside
and I have gotten dressed and smoked some pot and it's now 1;15pm. An extremely
perfect sunny day which makes this orange colour of paper in this journal unbearable
to look at. I feel so different than a month ago, April 27th, when i "broke
up" with Cris. I'm making progress, it's the first time I've really felt
it. But I always do better when it's daytime. I doubt that this small feeling
of self-power will last. It's hard to believe i've been writing in this thing
for almost 2 years.
1:35pm
wow, hours have passed. The only conclusion I can come to is: I must leave you.
Your world , all of a sudden I realize, is confining to me. The world is too
beautiful and full of light also. I cannot get lost in a world of dead and blue
women robbed of life from vampires. Maybe a romantic way to die, but I'm not
ready to die yet. To plan out my death and think upon it constantly to remind
myself that I am alive. Yes, it's true that death can make one feel alive but
I do not need to starve myself everytime in order to appreciate my meal. Although,
it's nice sometimes. There's so much more. You can become so involved in the
search of something that makes you feel alive that you miss out on life itself.
I think I have learned all I can from you, at least for thsi time. And you refuse
to learn from me, as Ed, which makes me feel alone. Life is so strange, it's
hard to pin down and describe. Each momwnt lasts forever yet goes so quickly
you can only remember a certain sound, smell, tone, aura, colour, touch, feeling.
It all becomes a blur. Summer colour melt together into other summers, winter
snows fall together. What was i doing this time last summer, the summer before?
When I was a child? When I went to Canada..how will i feel when I go again in
July? One billion things and counting viciously and pathetically trying to record
every feeling, pinning it down upon the page, as if for proof that yes, it did
exist. Hoping you can reread these words you feel it again or hope you feel
nothing ( wow, weird to reread this now 2000 and feel both! ) Checking the calendar
of last year, checking our "progress" in life. But doesn't it all
just vaguely remind you of some other time? "This reminds me of when I
used to eat popsicles on the lawn and the grass was too dry and sharp"
"This reminds me of when I broke up with Ed" "This reminds me
of walking to work , thinking I shall die soon" , then you get to, "
This reminds me of the time when I was sitting on the upstairs patio thinking
about how much this reminded me of being alone two summers ago and then how
I remembered it all writing this down right now and rereading this sentence
in the years to come, checking on my "progress"
How are you, my future self? are you going through this again? Has it marred
you in some way? Are you laughing as you read this or crying? Are you say, "
Boy, I'm glad I don't feel like that anymore" Do you fear it will happen
again? Or has it already? Is the band successful yet? Are you happy? Do you
miss Cris? Do you have a new boyfriend? Are you alone and happy? Where do you
live?
Life's weird, huh?
I'm sure we'll agree on that.
( woa, that was SUPER freaky to reread 04-30-00, my stomache hurts )
My vision of life is many, but to analogize them to bands it would be Pink Floyd, Ultravox, Kate bush.
5-31-90 10:29pm
Well, I got cut off there. to continue: XTC, Peter Gabriel. Cris is more like
: Bauhaus, The Cure. Well, that really said a lot <sarcasm>
Last night I stayed
overnight at his house. No matter what I write, my body and voice do the opposite.
I really do love that guy, but I feel it finally pullin away. I'm getting really
excited about my band again, which is maybe one of the purposes of why Cris
isn't good for me right now. Sinead O'Connor's album and single are #1 right
now which is so exciting because the world is changing and I feel the 90's ARE
truly going to be MY decade. Time to leave my mark on the music biz, the 80's
were learning. I've discovered a new band called The Sunday's which I love.
It makes me feel happy to hear them. Such a perfect album for a HAPPY yet slightly
meloncholy summer. (043000 everytime i hear that album, i still think about
this time in my life...that and david sylvian's secrets from the beehive record
)
I can tell it's going to be one of those albums that reminds me of a certain
time of my life ( 043000...ohmigod, how eerie, i didn't read/type that sentence
before i typed that other one. tears fill my eyes.... )
Just like Peter Murphy's "Deep" which i listen to a lot, too ( 043000,
yep, i think about sweeping the floors of ragstock in the morning before it
opened when i hear the at record. the sweet musky smell of the vintage clothing...and
the meloncholy feeling of knowing i was getting over Cris and being free again....but
I didn't get free YET...which u will read later on... )
The latest in the "Cris tragedy" is the 8th of June he needs someone to babysit his kids from 7-9pm which is a Friday and is exactly the time I always practice with my band. He said so SLIGHTLY sarcastically, " If you're interested in my kids I thought I'd ask you if you want to babysit them", and then he added, " Arden said she's always willing to babysit them"---which meansthe more I think about it, it was incredibly hurtful to say that to me. I felt like this is some sort of "test". So i do want to see the kids and practicing isn't REALLY important that Friday and the hought of Arden being such a "do-gooder" and so fucking eager to jump into Cris' life and take my place I said I'd babysit them. But part of me thinks I should let go of it, that I'm only keeping myself in the web of his life, that getting involved with his kids and his life is going to weigh me down with sadness and bitterness. Part of me is like, " OK, Arden, it's all yours. Good luck you niave innocent 17 year old. Say hello to your first big FUCK." That's a pretty negative note to end on, so I'll end it by saying I found a lot of coool velvet things in the shioment today and some great stuff in the trash this morning when i got up from Cris' this morning, oh, and it was today that I bought the Sundays, wow, seems like yesterday already. It was a good day all in all. whatever...........
( 043000 side note: i still see Arden when i go to Jason's gigs at those Future
Perfect shows. Cris' brother, Cari does some of the lights for those shows.
he was always interested with things like that. and Arden, being his long time
friend, is there, too. It still causes me pain to see her and still want to
rush up to her and try to understand if she has ANY grasp whatsoever on how
much pain I went through. Somehow, I still don't think she would give a shit
even if she did know. I hope I'm wrong. )
6-01-90 1:40pm
I'm at work right now. Cris called to tell me he's taking the kids to his mom's
tonight. I used to feel safe when I went there, but now it's probably the most
unsafe because ARden is Cari's friend, and she'll probably be there. I realized
there is nothing I can do to stop it and I felt like I was groveling for a littel
piece of his life by saying I would babysit the kids next Friday. And that's
the way he gave it to me, like , "here , I thought I'd be a good sport
and give you this chance to be a part of my life, and if you don't want it,
Arden said she would ANYTIME" Making me compete and grovel. The more I
think about it, that was so hurtful and manipulative and condescending to me.
That was really eveil. I didn't think he wanted me to feel bad about this situation,
but apparently part of him does. If he's bitter about me not wanting to be a
part of his life or something, he's living in a bullshit lie. Like how he would
assume what I would say or do to something of his, and he would get mad at me
before he even knew anything. What a fucked up and unfair bastard. It's just
so UNFAIR!!!! If this is all happening because of his own assumptions of me,
without even giving us a chance, what a pathetic fucked up tragedy.
FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
6-1-90 11:52pm
I went to Cris' house after work to look through th estuff I found in the trash
the other day. On his answering machine was a "lovely" picture of
Arden right next to the lizard poem I wrote him. My things I've given him are
still all over the place. Photobooth photos of us kissing are on his fridge
next to the heart shaped magnet that says, "love". How can he keep
these things up---seeing the picture of the wall of me while he sleeps with
these other women? His answering machine was full of messages from her. Her
brush was laying on his bed with blonde hair in it I totally flipped. I feel
taxidermied.Like he said, "better taxidermy this relationship while it's
still in it's prime, put her head on the wall to add to my collection."
I wanted all my things back, he has robbed me and collected me. I called and
asked him if I could have my things back because I feel he is dishonouring them,
being disrespectaful, treating them like everything else. Looking at them with
his tormented eriticness. He doesn't deserve them. He freaked and said if I
touch one thing i was "going to regret it". I said I've never threatened
you on anything like that. I've never sought revenge on anyone no matter what
they've done to me. I was sick of him telling me I was being like Sue.
(043000 his x-wife....actually wife, since they hadn't been divorced but had been separated for years. i really liked sue )
He tried to pidgeon hole me and say that I am like this and I would do this in this sort of situation. I said, you don't even know me, "you've never understood me baby you've never really tried" ( quoting my song from introducing sorrow )
He seems numb to everything. I went to practice, it was great, I got a bit of ebergy out. After practice, Brian (043000 the first and only male who was ever a part of The Blue Up? played when show with us then i booted him out) made a stop at Cris' house for me to get the trash things. I wrote him a hasty letter which basically said, " I'm sorry our relationship has deteriorated to this. I want to leave before it gets worse. I don't want to see you or talk to you. Leave me alone. Maybe someday when you're really sorry and you regret being such a cold mean asshole and YOU put the effort into it maybe we can reconcile it, but right now I need to heal and get on with my life. I don't feel that you are my friend. I hope you will honour and respect. xox ( kisses for your snout for the last time maybe), Rachael
---something like
that.
Then I phoned him at his Mom's and told him what I said in th elatter and that
I gave his keys back, I shoved them under the door.
I wouldn't have been able to do that a month ago. But I feel I have a bit of
roots now, my room, band, job. I don't even want to know what's going on in
his life ( but I do ). All it does is hurt me. The thought of him sleeping with
someone else still makes me puke, vomit, die. I hope I can stick to my guns
and not call him. I know he won't have that problem. He's so irritating. He's
never going to understand, and that's a bitter pill to swallow.
6-2-90 7:04am
I feel like shit. I went 2 bed at 12:30 and woke up at 3am with great anxiety.
I took a xanax. I woke up now---I took a xanax. I am in great stress and anxiety.
I hope I can make it through. I feel scared, disconnected, unbelieving, nightmarish.
I work 1-9 today, I hope it gets my mind off stuff. I can't believe something
that was so beautiful to me is over. I dreamt, it's all foggy--I was in a car
with a man. I didn't know that children were hanging on the car..to see me or
something. We accelerated on the highway past 80 mph to make them stop holding
onto the car. They were still there. They thought it was fun. I realized I was
a mile away from my house. I thought I could walk but the man gave me a ride.
He was rich. He did some sort of construction work. I told him Cris had worked
at Andersen Windows and was string , if he needed help. I said I was available
for work, too but I doubted I could help him. I told him I was in a band. He
and his wife were in the car, suddenly the car was Cris' and I found a lunch
box of photos he took of letters he had written and pictures he had taken of
himself in the nude. Some were suicide letters, some were letters asking me
to forgive him, some were letters of eroticism towards other women ( Nikki,
Arden ). I was shaking that he hid so much. Suddenly I found myself home ( it
looked like new york city ). It was my responsibility to pack the car. I did
after several attempts.
I woke up feeling extreme anxiety. I'm sick of Anais Nin stories. I put them away. I almost finiahed but I'm bored of them.
(043000 the only reason I was reading Anais Nin was because I thought it would "sexually liberate" me and help me with my problems with Cris. What a laugh.)
6-5-90
Well, 6-3, it was a Sunday, I made some erotic photos in Hollywood High's photo
booth then xeroxed them off big and went over to Cris' work to give it to him.
I was shaking. He loved/hated the photos. I kissed him with light kisses. I
went back to work
(043000 this is painful for me to reread much less type! what an IDIOT i was. what is my DEAL??? btw, Cris work, my work, his house and my house were within blocks of each other...all in uptown minneapolis, in case u were wondering. mike's hard lemonade is slowing down my typing considerably and i'm almost nearing the emd of this journal...then there are tone more journal but i'm trying to get to the end of THIS one before i sleep )
I saw Vaughn after
work, I was over there late, 'til midnight. I got home and Jim told me Cris
had called. Just then Vaughn called and told me he was mad at me for not taking
his money for the cab, just then Cris was knocking on the door. He was furious
at me for tormenting him with the pictures, then going to Vaughn's, which is
none of his damn business 'caus he gets to do whatever the fuck HE wants. So
we fought and I was shaking and I felt so nauseous. WE agreed to try to make
things work. It took me three xanaxes to get to sleep. Mom cam eover at noon
the next day. We went to Calhoun Square to mail a letter, while she went to
the bathroom, I ran over to Tomy Roma's to see Cris ( where he worked ). I kissed
him and asked, "are you my boyfriend?" he releuctantly said yes. He
called me later that night at midnight nad we fought again. He had changed his
mind and couldn't say he was my boyfriend. Everything went back to square one,
or worse. I cried. He called me at 1:30 in the afternoon today and siad, "
I love you" so nice, but tonight, right now, he is with Nikki 'cause she
just came back from San Diego. I was mad because he wouldn't let me go along,
too, so maybe we could all be friends or come to trems with it. All he does
is get mad at me.
He is a MANIPULATIVE MINDFUCK ( a good song title , maybe? )
I could go on for pages about our dead end discussions, but I am too tired,
sad, depressed, angry, drained, you name it.
I just left a sad and pathetic on his machine. When will all this pain end?
It was nice ton have Mom here, but I was not in good spirit. She bought me 3
used Billy Joel records, 2 silver goblets, an angel, and a beautiful turn-of-the-century
black cotton blouse at Lagoon Antiques.
Oh, and a "Love is Hell" book, cookies and magazines. We saw Vaughn
today at Sax Fifth avenue ( he does the windows there ) , we were walking by
the way to HCMC for my prescriptions, so we just stopped in there and he was
dressing a mannequin. Mom really liked him. I'm going to see him tomorrow after
work. I could say a lot more about this and so much has happned, I'm too drained
to write it all down and I said it to my mom. This whole thing is so fucked
up. All last night I dreamt about Cris and sex and Sue nad fighting. I'm s tired
of it all.
(043000 here come the REALLY BAD POEMS...)
6-11-90
Razorblade
Your love is a
cruel tease
a tickling razorblade
a trick
it cuts so deeply
and with such precision
i am not aware
until i am awkened by a weakening
my blood flows thick and warm
searching for the lowest pont
my bloody passion explodes in tense veins
like the underground at rushhour
impatient
exhuberant at being released
even to your sadistic pleasure
to be sucked
to be wanted
it is alive in pain
open to the air it flows
and trickles gracefully into my wanting eyes
blinding me
into wanting more
(043000 gag-heave-vomit...pardon my bad goth "poetry" i was young
and stupid)
song titles:
I Trick Myself
into needing you
into wanting you
into loving you
again and again and again and again
More
more more more more
I Burn My House
Down
so I can have a better view, I burn my house down, i burn it all, even yo9u.
hit me again from the outside so i know that i'm alive. i hurt myself from the
inside so i know that i'm alive
(043000, glad i'm done with THAT phase! )
6-20-90
it's a strange feelin to feel both sucked dry and overflowing with life's juices,
like a fruit too ripe, forgotten in a basket
( 043000, oh, the imagery! <sarcasm> )
ok, that's th end
of journal #1 9-13-88through 6-11-90
i'll call that chapter one.
stay "tuned" for chapter two if u can bear with me...