Reading this all that time without my knowledge wasn't kind. It was the opposite of kind. He should never have shared this with you.

Thankfully I met someone who never would have.






644 days to go.

~~~~~~~~top entry most recent, bottom is oldest~~~~~~~~~


throat bug easing off....good. good. been taking my vitamins, you know....

i used to get angry and rant at him in emails. his response was to tell me i was playing the victim.
he would tell me that my point of view was skewed, that i wasn't taking everything into account....
i had the same point of view about his columns; they were like slams in the head, nearly every time i read them. there was always SOMETHING in them, that upset me. and he would say:

****'i have artistic license; i leave in some details and leave some out.'****

so, now, this page is my artistic creation.
maybe just a product of my distorted sense of reality? maybe skewed because of what i put in or what i leave out? i'm trying to put it all in....
but yes....feelings do skew what facts you pay attention to.....yes yes yes yes yes.
can't deny that.

and, yes, he always put forth the disclaimer: you are wonderful BUT....
i'm going to find someone older.

to what extent does a disclaimer make things okay?

to what extent does a disclaimer ---even one such as 'i am conflicted'---make it okay to have sex with someone you know is in love with you?

and if he's so morally corrupt, why do i love him? why do i want him?

would someone please explain to me?

maybe this is one of those things that i'll understand, after the 644 days remaining are up: maybe then i'll really get it. maybe i'm too close:

'you're playing the're playing the victim......'

i know people who play the victim and i fucking hate i doing it?
playing the victim...playing the victim...playing the victim.




pull back...


back back back back

there ya go...






'through the day, through the night, through the day.' --andy thornton

....some sort of thoat bug coming on.


his age frightened me, and made me feel that i should be with him in spite of everything, as much as he would let me. it seemed important to give him what i was feeling. i'm aleady haunted by one face i'll never see again; i'm haunted in advance that one day i'll never see him again, either. i won't feel his arms around me, again. we won't make love again.

this is his decision and was always his ultimate intention; i indulged myself in my own feeling for him; i have only myself to blame for this. he always told me i was too young, and if his actions were contradictory, he respected me too much to lie about his ultimate intention, which was to try as hard as possible to find someone else.

i loved him for four years and for four years thought, damn the consequences.

for four years, holidays spent aching to hear his voice. to see his sweet smile. four years of saturday nights wondering who he was with. i chose this: so i could be with him sometimes, and make love to him.

i'm not sorry. and, i am sorry. if i had no one to come home to, no one to sleep with even occasionally, no one to give me that last phone call of the night or welcome one from me, i could wait for that, i could give myself to him anyway; i'm young, i thought: i have time. i have time for a leap of faith, i have time to give myself to something that seems impossible, i have time to give all of myself and get very little of him in return, i have time. everyone said: you're kidding yourself. and maybe i was. but it enabled me to know him. and i wasn't sorry.

then he found someone he'd rather be intimate with....again. a blow i can't describe. and then, september 11th happened.

and i thought, there is no more time. i want someone waiting at home for me. i would want someone wandering the streets with my picture on a flier. i would want someone to roll over in bed, in the middle of the night, reaching for me, to find me gone. i want someone, i want to be loved.

my old boyfriend steve used to say: 'we've got all the time in the world.' he was wrong; time was running out for us. there is all the time in the world; but never enough.




it's definitely laundry time.

no one is going to fall in love with me if i walk around with my sleeves soiled from wearing my heart on them all the time....

yo there!!! anybody got any stain remover?!!!!

.....scrubba scrubba.





one thing i've been thinking about is we (americans) have to actually examine who we are not just as individuals but also consider that we're part of something much larger....and there are costs to belonging. on so many levels. costs to everything....people, my generation and especially these fucking sixties children, seem to have trouble with that idea... and at the same time, you WANT to ask the tough WANT to say, 'but do we want to pay the costs of being an empire...' you WANT to keep your country on the higher moral ground and maybe it ISN'T.....?? but then: this isn't about empire, is it? these people came out of nowhere and... but then...didn't we drop the a-bomb on japan, on hundreds of thousands of innocents?---but then we're not ALL bad, either...we send money and humanitarian aid and helped rebuild europe after world war one, which was THEIR big friggin mistake to begin with...i mean, come on, we're not TOTAL jerks.


i remember now why i liked 'sunshine' though like is really not the right word.
in one scene the kid is in a concentration camp watching as his father is beaten and then killed. --they kill him by hanging him on a tree (it's dead of winter)and turning a hose on him.
horrific scene.
years later when the kid is out ...his uncle asks him, 'how many were they?'
the kid replies 'three of them, armed' and the uncle asks 'and how many were you?'
the kid replies, 'about 200.' and the uncle begins berating him, saying, 'and two hundred people couldn't stand up to three!!!'
the kid replies, 'but they had guns.' ....'you run at them, and take their guns...' said the uncle.....
and, yes, but, there was no communication, no organization do you suddenly get 200 terrified people to run at a few, who have weapons? you know a few of the 200 will lose their lives in the do you get a group to take that risk
without first finding a way to get a fire under their butts?


so i woke up this morning and thought about him and felt...apathy. and a bit of distaste. thought about how he criticized me for being reclusive while he was out 'being in the world.' but, i found out later, he was 'being in the world' while getting the emotional nutrition of a new venture into a relationship. while i on the other hand was suffering from his rejection.
the day we had that conversation, he told me that, the day before, he had taken a woman 'friend' to the hospital and then kept her company the rest of the day at her house in calabasas. later it came out that this was someone he was getting involved with. he stayed at her house to comfort her because she had had a cancer scare. comfort her indeed. i bet he was holding her, comforting her, and even then only telling me half the story. at the very least he was getting emotionally cuddly...hearing her stories and heartbreaks and getting know....close. .....bonding.

so in that same conversation, he berated me for not 'getting out and living life.' when i think about it now, it looks to me like a person who has just had a large dinner, berating a person who is hungry, and weakened for not having had enough sustenance. the hungry person is too weak right at this moment to go forage. and not only that, but the hungry person had given some precious time and energy to feeding the sated person..... it seemed selfish.. emotionally selfish. and even, in light of what i know now, cruel.

i have to point out that whenever i would paint my feeling for him as obsession, a bad hangup, a destructive, compulsive thing rather than real love, he would get upset. i did this a number of times.....and, reliably, he would become cold and angry at the idea that i didn't really love him.

but..wouldn't a person who REALLY loved him be absolutely heartbroken at his repeated abandonments, and not at top form to be going out, socializing, and Hunting for Men?

he attacked me for the very thing that made it possible for me to give him that emotional sustenance and support.

anyway, i woke up, thought of those things, and felt apathy.

i have a friend who once said, 'he's old and he's been USING YOU. i wish he would die.'

another friend said, 'those of us who care about you wish you would be able to forget it and never feel these things for this man again.'

all that being said....rachel weisz is at her most luscious in red lipstick and bobbed hair... a close friend of mine told me a white lie (just a white one) for the first time ever (i have no proof, but i feel pretty certain of it). kind of wild when someone you've known for a long time trots out a new one on you. i'm used to the evasions and subterfuges used by some acquaintences but this was a new one on me from her. *ah, well.....*

sept.11: still feeling nothing, mostly. again, still, just the vague alarm, uneasiness. sabina said she finally cried; i was envious that she could have some feeling.

what happens to me, though, is this. i'll hear that paul simon song again, 'and i dreamed i was dying, and i dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly, and looking back down at me, smiled reassuringly.' and hearing these melodic, wistful words, i can't help putting them against/trying to feel the swiftness of that second plane flying deliberately toward the trade center; the contrast between the music and what must have been happening aboard gives me a kind of shock;the blinding speed,
the brutality, the lives about to end, the realizations, those brief seconds expanding with the mixture of horrible fear and yearning for loved ones.
i hear the flight attendant on the cell phone telling the ground crew 'i see water, i see buildings...oh my god--' before the call is cut off. it seems very important to understand it, the mix of things happening in those moments, but maybe understanding is not something to do with the mind.
'and high up above, my eyes could clearly see, the statue of liberty, sailing away to sea. and i dreamed i was flying.'

i'm missing something, i'm missing something, and it may not be mine to miss, but
there is something.


6:54 pm

damn these days i sit here in the traffic center.....long hours in four walls and fluorescent light, staring into the computer, feeling like a nonliving thing, feeling like the world is an air-conditioned nonplace; --good evening! at the tone, the time will be six fifty seven and thirty seconds--one traffic feed and then another. la, inland empire, mojave, back to la. my voice is everywhere and i am nowhere. if nowhere could be a place, this would be it.
it's not just the hours and the environment, i can feel my brain going to that other place. the really fucked up place. as i sit and sit and sit and sit and sit and sit i find myself doing web searches on his name. he has numerous fans who maintain websites. one has a list w/people discussing....i go through the threads opening one after another after another for AT LEAST AN HOUR but there is NOTHING even slightly interesting. why am i doing this? i'm hunting. i'm on the hunt. i'm looking for him. but there's nothing to find, even if i found traces of him.
he always gave me the feeling that something amazing was just around the corner: that we were on the threshold of an incredible closeness and trust. ....on the threshold of something truly transcendent. how can i explain this? but there was nothing to find. in the final analysis there was just THAT FEELING. it was MY feeling. in the final analysis there's a guy whose ultimate choice is not to have me in his life. there's NOTHING TO FIND THERE! am i crazy? am i hunting for my mother? am i trapped 'in my childhood trauma trying to make it come out right this time' as my therapist would say? if i were on that plane and the final seconds of my life were passing, would i know then what it all meant? the noise in my head won't quit. this is why i used to drink. but when i drink i do insane things. i can't drink. i have to wait this out. damn it. damn it.

god. i just read this and i'm annoyed at myself. i wouldn't want to be around me, either. sitting here with my brain-rot and ceaseless chattering about nothing. i mean, i'm chasing fairy tales; all this was for four years was a night here, a night there, of FEELING; and NOTHING ELSE! this relationship i'm agonizing over was NOTHING! we spent HARDLY ANY TIME TOGETHER! WHAT THE FUCK IS MY PROBLEM?!!!!!!!! it's time for the mojave station.

.........i mean, SHUT UP. why would i even WANT a guy who's so...who's so....what's the point of all this?
maybe i'm addicted to the drama. i'm feeling an almost irresistable urge to make something happen. like when i send him hateful angry emails, or drive to his house drunk, or call him and say helplessly 'i just can't help myself, i miss you so much, i wanted to just know how you were doing' or some conciliatory thing like that just so i could have a hit of him. boil any or all of it down and it only amounts to compulsive ....some compulsive thingthat has nothing to do with ......come on, let's be honest, has nothing to do with this other layer of feeling for him which i believe actually is love.
okay, i'm going to try to talk myself through this....
it's easy to ignore the things you don't see....the other love affairs..if they're not there right in front of your face to hit you viscerally, it can be easy to underestimate their importance, their bearing on you.... if i ran into him in public and saw him with the actress, or with this new woman, if i saw them kissing, .....wouldn't it hit me harder? how really there is NOTHING HERE FOR ME? somehow ---not seeing it right in front of my own eyes allowed me to kid myself..that and the things he said to me.. things that made me feel totally unique and valued in a way he valued no other...things like 'there has never been anything like this for me and i will never forget it until the end of my life....' he said other things too, like 'you're too young for me' and 'there's no future here' but there was something about the other things that made me want to believe they were MORE TRUE. oh, man!

when he started dating the actress, in 1999, he brought her to the university and introduced her to a group of people as his girlfriend. a friend of mine in the group broke the news to me, that he now had a girlfriend. i asked how he seemed with her and the answer was 'blissful. he seemed really happy(blissful was the word that came up more than once)...and they were playful with each other.'
i thought of how he was playful with me and how that was one of the most unique and delightful things about us. i asked him what sort of person she seemed to be.
he described her as 'maybe in her mid thirties, sophisticated, with large, expressive eyes--kind of like yours---she seemed smart, but not really highly intelligent; i could see where there might be limits.'
ouch, ouch, ouch, playfulness, sophistication. and, this was, this was, ladies and gentlemen, 1999!!! two years ago?!! and i'm sitting here tonight thinking about it?
he went on to have his tempestuous much-documented relationship with this woman. i was told that 'i was an issue' between them because he had enjoyed such an outstanding sex life with me. another 'issue' was....well, surprise---she didn't trust him to be monogamous. it seemed there were so many women just sort of..coming around. calling. walking into his back yard to get stuff they had stored in his garage. he keeps in his house a piano that belongs to a woman named 'poppy' who asked him to store it. she lives somewhere else with her boyfriend, but he really liked her, and couples do break up, and he has her piano..isn't that kind of a really personal favor to do for someone, harbor her piano in his house? women, women everywhere. and what's so amazing, he REALLY DOESN'T SEEM to get how crazy and threatened this makes a girlfriend.

some guys won't keep a woman guessing where they stand. she knows he loves her and is going to stick with her. he's her best friend. he doesn't turn to other women for late-night phone talks and emotional intimacy and 'sharing.' even in the midst of his relationship with this actress he still came on to me. and i mean, really came on. no wonder she didn't trust him.

women have radar. we know.

but we get told we're crazy if we don't have proof.

he talked a lot about how he dumped the actress because she was violent and unglued, but doesn't seem to get how his behavior contributed. he's in therapy, though. oh, damn it~! who cares~! it's goodbye, for crying out loud! why am i thinking about this?!!!!!!

..........okay...eight o clock..deep breath now..alright, exhale. light slap on each cheek. one more hour and this obsessfest is over; one more hour and i walk OUT into the parking lot and into the beautiful, foggy night, OUT to where i can breathe the air, and feel the big night around me, OUT INTO THE WORLD where what's in my head won't have as much power over me as it does in this tiny little blue-walled miserable cold-sufaced studio.
could hypnosis work? 647 days. 647 days. time dulls even the most raw things. i know it does. i know it will.

and it changes perspective. when i'm not IN this looney toon tornado of feeling i'll see him differently. when i've had a taste of a real relationship rather than a detachment carnival i'll think..i'll think.. i'll feel...what? i have NO IDEA.

there is NOTHING at the end of this rainbow. there's no pot of gold. there's no pot of pot. there may be a fine kettle of fish, but....
it was just a FEELING. an emotional narcotic. something. what. i don't know. i don't know. i don't know. i want to believe in the deeper layer, the thing beyond compulsion, that it's love. but it was or is only ON MY PART. and i don't mean love like friend love. fuck friend love. i'm not talking about that.

well, here it is 8:11, and this whole day has been spent in the ether. mentally bombed-out in the fluorescent zone, disconnected voice on the air, staring into the computer screen. all day staring at this screen. good lord. i'm going to light some candles when i get home, and sit back and breathe deeply and let my senses luxuriate.

kate has a bit part coming up tuesday night on philly. so...let's show our support for kate. and say a little prayer for her to get this other part on nypd blue as a strung-out druggie. say a little prayer, do a little dance, make a little love....
man, oh, man, i'm losing it. but you know what...i think i've gotten most of this crap out of my system.

and you know what else, i'm not going to beat myself up for going through this stuff, either. if the feelings i have for this man are genuine, then it would be weird NOT to have them. just let me go through em, okay?
i mean, HE'S the weird one, for god's sake. he's the fucked one in my book. for making love to a woman he doesn't love. (and i don't mean friend many times do i have to say this? NOT FRIEND LOVE.i mean LOVE LOVE)

one more thing and i promise i'll quit. i'm in the mood to dump doo-doo on his head if only on this web page (because, in a way, that's what it's get WHATEVER i need out of my system, OUT...)
so, sex...when i first met him, and for about a year following, it came to light in his conversations with me that he had someone who came to his house and gave him sex.
he said she told him she was in love with him and would come to his house out of the blue, bring him little gifts, and that sort of thing. he painted her as an admirer, and said he NEVER called her or sought her out. he made it sound like the feelings were all hers, and he was kind of obliging her with the sex, even.....
then, he had a health scare, and talked about how worried she said she was, and agonizing over it; and i thought, if she meant nothing to him, why would he tell her? why would he want to feed the fire?

eventually he dumped her; i believe this was after we became lovers; and when i asked if he were still in touch with her he said, no, that she 'wasn't the sort of person he had any interest in keeping in touch with.'
upon hearing that i felt a sudden wave of pure distaste for him....

now, he swears he didn't use ME for sex; that there was an emotional component, that it was 'spiritual.'
by that i assume he means: he also liked talking to me, as we lay afterward on the pillows. so, he wasn't using me for sex then; for sex and talking, i guess.

okay, so there was a talking component. a talking and laughing component. so what? it still feels like i've been used. spiritual connection, my ass. if i have sex with someone, it IS about love. not friend-love. fuck him for fucking me when he felt only friend-love. if i ever hear that from a guy again.....i'm RUNNING, not walking, as fast as i can, out of it.
had itwith this.






i asked the kid at the starbucks for a cranberry muffin and of course had my eye on the ones in front, that looked to be chock full of gorgeous cranberries. then the kid gives me one from the very back that's cracked, and has maybe one cranberry that i can see. i decided not to raise a fuss because there were about ten people behind me&i wanted out of there...when i pulled the muffin out of the bag i thought, wouldn't it be great if i break it open, and find that, despite its less-than-dazzling exterior, this muffin turns out to be absolutely loaded down with the good shit.....that the inside of it is shot through with big juicy red cranberries that i just couldn't see on the top?
it wasn't, of course. damn kid.

did something last night that i haven't ever done before. had dinner with tracy (no, not that, i've done that before) an italian place in brentwood called pizzicoto. very noisy cozy warm upstairs room. tracy is a little wisp of a woman with huge intense eyes and some sort of magnet in her person.....she comes off very solemn sometimes with thoughtful pauses in her conversation and then pops off some some point during dinner she asked about *him* old lover; and said she'd run into him at the art museum. i was surprised at the wave of sudden sadness and longing that came on me. in the pleasant here-and-there drift of my recent shutdown there's been no tender feeling at all for him. so i was shocked at how suddenly just very, very sad i was.

so when we parted at 10:30, i found myself driving west on wilshire and thinking, 'i'm going to drive by his house.' it's not something i've done before because whether he's alone or with someone, home or gone, it changes nothing.

he appeared to be home. the lights were off downstairs, but there was a light on upstairs. his car was out in front, where he usually parks it. there was another car behind it. i thought to myself that there were usually one or two other cars near his. i drove past, did a u turn at the next interesection, drove past again. the wide street was quiet, peaceful, deserted, with tall dark trees. i saw the light on in his stairwell through the little window. i drove home.

i decided he must be in bed, reading, or on the computer. maybe talking on the phone. there was a moment of comfort that he was home, safe, in his rooms upstairs.

i woke up at four that morning and thought again about the car parked behind his. maybe it was her car. maybe he lets her stay the night. he rarely let me stay the night, saying it wasn't worth it to get used to each other because there was no future for us. (but wasn't sex getting used to each other? self serving? now i'm feeling an urge to punch him in the nose)
so maybe she was there, after all. maybe they were sitting on the bed talking and laughing.

then, what kept me up until six this morning, lying there thinking and thinking in the dark, was kissing.

kissing....maybe even more personal than sex. mouth to mouth, hands in each other's hair, touching each others' cheeks; i remembered how kissing him seemed like its own language.
certain men have kissed me in ways that teased and brought shivers and thrashings.
when he kissed me, i felt my heart melting. he excited me, yes...but the tenderness i felt was a new experience for me. when we kissed i felt us melting together and it felt, to me, as if it were not just our bodies, but our minds.

and he kisses her. he kisses another woman now. a fifty-one year old woman who lives in calabasas. of course she would stay with him, he wouldn't ask her to drive home after going out...or maybe he stays with her...but all that aside, he kisses her. he touches her cheeks, he nestles his nose into her throat, he holds her body in his arms. there's that language of lovemaking....something very private and created anew with a different lover...a whole new world, a whole new repertoire of feeling, laughter, gentle touches, communication.

it's that pure communication that kissing is, that tortured me this morning between the hours of four and six.


after dinner last night tracy and i walked into a blockbuster and browsed the aisles comparing notes on movies and actors and actresses. i checked out sunshine so i could watch it again (yeah, i know, it's like watching paint dry...but it resonated with me)
thing about sunshine is,rachel weisz is SO delicious in it. i'm in love with this actress. she is just.....she is just.....i don't know WHAT she is
!!!!!!!!anyway, no saturday blues, and a date with rachel tonight.......yessssssssssss.