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SAIL ON SAIL ON SAILOR

Posted on June 14, 2009 - Filed Under The Marina Experiment

I have made a piece of art out of child abuse.  Sorting and resorting and editing the facts that are the source of my fury and my grief. I imagined I was desensitized, but every time I go back, I find new shards.

I am not a victim or a survivor. I don’t identify with these labels. I am an opponent. The enemy. The more people see my film the more I win. I have turned something hurtful into retribution. My father would be mortified. He would bare my backside and put me over his knees and spank me roughly and mercilessly and then lock me in my room. The spanking must have felt sexual, because now, just a hand mistakenly grazed past my posterior, perhaps on a crowded train, feels violating. Read more

MY BRAIN IS A RIOT

Posted on June 13, 2009 - Filed Under The Marina Experiment

I strain to get to a word. It is imprisoned by my skull no window through my eyes.

My mother had collapsed onto her bad hip and her hand was firmly clutching nothing. A gang of teenagers had broken into the house and raped her while she was holding a dollar bill and then the fireplace started to melt, she said.

Spinal tap, brain biopsy, dementia of unknown origin. The doctors said it would happen to me too. That grim prediction.

And now I strain to get to a word.

SEEKING ASYLUM

Posted on June 12, 2009 - Filed Under The Marina Experiment

I don’t know what that’s like.

to feel safe.

to be embraced with no genital intentions

just to feel cared for

to feel safe.

I don’t know what that’s like.

CHRISTMAS MEMORIES

Posted on June 11, 2009 - Filed Under The Marina Experiment

I remember asking for a doll named Tiny Tiny Tears. I liked her because she cried “real tears,” the ad said. Santa told me that if I was very very good, and obeyed my father and my mother, I would get Tiny Tiny Tears next week. I never got Tiny Tiny Tears. Read more

THE THOUGHT THAT DOESN’T COUNT

Posted on June 11, 2009 - Filed Under This Burns Me Up

THE EMPTY PROMISE

If it is not within your power or honest desire to guarantee that a particular thing will happen, please don’t bestow me with your “good intentions.” I am gullible and hopeful and so easily disappointed.

YOU SHOULD

Posted on June 10, 2009 - Filed Under This Burns Me Up

I hate it when I hear it. If I want your advice I’ll ask for it. Don’t tell me what to do.

You should take another pill. You should eat less carbs. You should ask for more money. You should tell her how you feel. You should keep it to yourself. You should buy yourself a treat. You should return it. You should get rid of him. You should stay where you are. You should take a chance. You should ignore it.

YOU should.

BONANZA!

Posted on June 9, 2009 - Filed Under Bright Ideas

I have to be drunk to eat something that looks like a clitoris.

It was served nestled atop a shiny spiky black sea urchin shell, a fleshy Orange Julius hue, slimy and gelatinous. The spiced plum wine made eating it feel natural. I am not sure if it was delicious, although I expressed such to my generous hostess, who I think might be a hundred-aire.

Every so often she takes me on a culinary odyssey where she appears to speak Japanese and know the staff and get treated all special. The drinks are never empty and she orders a lot of stuff that’s not on the menu. I’m pretty sure we get really loud cause my laugh blares and claps and the people sitting next to us usually look irritated.

“Would love to dine out as I feel I am making progress toward curing you of sobriety,” the invitation read.

NEW YORK EXPERIENCE

Posted on June 8, 2009 - Filed Under The Job Hunter

I moved to Hollywood in 1992 and I couldn’t get anyone to hire me. The problem, they said, was that I only had New York experience.

Eventually I landed a job as a cocktail waitress at a strip club, where I met a Rumanian stripper. She wore pasties that she referred to as “pastries” and they looked like eyeballs, so she’d shake her tits in my face and say “Do you like my eyes?” Of course she called herself an actress and said she was just trying to get her foot in the door.

I guess she thought her pussy was her foot.

PASSING A STONE

Posted on June 7, 2009 - Filed Under Human Foibles

Breaking up. The pain was insufferable. But when I slowed down enough to scrape him off the bottom of my shoe it was like I’d taken a hundred pound dump. I felt fantastic! So much lighter! No more cramp in my gut!

In retrospect, what seemed so grueling was simply inconvenient. I was overwhelmed with choices. Should I stay in the apartment? Should I try to rent the living room as office space to cover half the rent? Should I move to another apartment in Manhattan? Should I move to another country? Should I get an Australian to marry me? Should I re-invent myself? Should I redo my resume? Should I sign up for online dating again?  Should I adopt a cat?  Should I foster a cat? Should I try to make new friends? Should I socialize more? Should I finish my film? Should I keep working on my website? Should I write a book? Should I get a Tibetan Terrier?

Once I realized that when I’m alone I am very productive, I got excited. But it was hard to get to that point. First I had to get angry. He is a cheap lying cheating selfish childish coward! And he smells bad! He’s had bad breath since the day I met him. And I kept trying to make that go away. Why did I choose to believe him? I ignored every red flag. I made excuses for him. His lies were so flimsy. I was so flimsy. I love the word flimsy. Did I think he was the best I could get? Did I think he was the only thing I could get? Why do I think so little of myself? I must remember not to do this again. I forget. I get weak. I get lonely. I compromise. I hate myself. I lose myself. I forget who I am.

One year later I am writing in this blog and my film is going to festivals. I am working on a book and two screenplays. I have been very productive. I think maybe I’m ready to open my heart again. I think maybe.

THE TRANS PLANT

Posted on June 6, 2009 - Filed Under Bright Ideas

I received the re-gifted orchid plant in December, my favorite season because the leaves have all fallen and it gives my allergies a rest.

Not being horticultural, I planned on enjoying the orchid plant while it lasted. I placed it on the windowsill by my stove where it got an occasional streak of sunlight and I watered it whenever I remembered. Without the flowers it’s not so showy, which I like.

It is now May. The branches are bark brown and winter spindly and the entire plant is covered in a thick coating of grease from the New Zealand lamb chops I enjoy cooking in a pan on my stovetop. Just last week I watered the orchid plant for the first time in months I’m sure, and I noticed that it had sprouted two new hearty green leaves and several new spindly little branches. It’s greasy exterior makes it look moist. I am so pleased that it lives.

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