I had a lot of anger issues this week, and last night was sort of my crowning glory in all that. Of course, it coincided with my vacation being officially over and my going back to work.
(Which, again, I stress, is not really what you would call “work” because it is the easiest job I ever had, in my whole entire life. That said, though, it is still a” job,” which in and of itself is always something I chafe against…)
My night ended with me telling a co-worker, in a not so very small voice, “I so fucking hate your guts. You so fucking suck.” If it weren’t already the end of the shift, I probably would have walked out. Instead, I clocked-out and went and got really angrily into my car.
You know, all of this stems from so much stress. For years and years and years, all I did was write for a living – and I include in that career being a publisher and a multi-media producer and a web developer, although those things came about because I was a writer first. And then of course, the publishing industry imploded and most of my publishers – smaller presses – went out of business. By 2007, everything in my world had changed and I had to start taking part-time jobs again. And I absolutely can’t stand that, but I try to get to a place where I can at least tolerate it.
But now I’m faced with this TV pilot that needs to be not just better, but a whole fucking lot better. It has to be the same show I already wrote, but the 2 main characters have to just be absolutely unforgettable. In 9 weeks, I need to do this, so this part-time job is seriously getting in my way.
(Not to mention, but mention I will, that I have this really important theater project I’m also doing with Sandra that is going to be Off-Broadway and I cannot let anything stand in my way of that being spectacular, either. And the Helen LaFrance piece that I’m also working on is meant as a follow-up for Sandra, Off-Broadway, so I’m already thinking about a few years down the road, and how the LaFrance piece has to just sparkle right off the page, as well.
(And then, the other day, I emailed Gus Van Sant (Sr.) re: the Helen LaFrance piece and whether he wanted to be openly identified in the show or not, and he wrote back that it would be the “crowning achievement of his life” to be openly mentioned in the show; and that what he did, meaning, give Helen’s art to the world, was the most important thing he had ever done because it was his way of giving something beautiful back to the world. Mind you, this is a man whose son is, you know, a multi-Oscar-nominated director, whose films have won Oscars, and the man is telling me that being mentioned in a play Off-Broadway, will be the crowning achievement of his life… Well, talk about words having to sparkle themselves off the fucking page… And the 2 novels I’m also writing are just things I’m writing because they give me a lot of joy.)
I’m out of my mind, but I’m not stupid. I know this is where my stress is coming from. And it’s leading me into all this anger because I feel so pressed for time. And it’s leading me back into all the suicidal crap that always sneaks in around the edges when I get overwhelmed by my life. And that becomes emotionally crippling. And when I feel emotionally crippled – and am trying to write at my best level – I get even angrier.
In all of this, the same man that I pissed off so terribly because I said something really, really mean to him ( see posts down below with the words “Tuesday” in the titles). Well, let’s just say that he’s older than me, really, really successful, sort of empowered in a way I can’t imagine being in this lifetime. When he found out about MG#2, and where I was blindly/happily heading with it & even considering saying yes to a marriage proposal, he said, in a very calm, practical, forthcoming voice: “I’m sorry, Marilyn, but that’s not happening. I just want you to know that I’m going to do everything in my power to block that. You get involved with that, and it’s not going to end well for you.”
He meant, of course, the FBI and mob stuff in the Bronx, and me needing to focus really seriously on my career right now.
I’ll be damned if MG#2 didn’t completely disappear from my life directly after that conversation. Whoa. You know? Wow, dude. When you block something, you block it, don’t you?
My life is just so strange. But at the same time, I appreciate that my welfare could matter that much to somebody. That someone could love me that much — well. Once I finally got realistic and emotionally sober again, I saw that he was right. Me and the Mafia were never a good fit before, and god knows, I feel at my most comfortable when me and the FBI are thousands of miles apart. And when I was facing the prospects of prison time because the Federal Government considered me a pornographer that posed a threat to children, the very, very last thing I wanted was to go to prison…
I still feel that way.
Best to just sit in my room and write. Be grateful that I am loved, even if I do feel a little angry these days.
Have a good Sunday. (I took Holy Communion again this morning. Cried the whole time. I don’t want to be this angry, suicidal person…) (Also, a new excerpt from my new novel, Blessed By Light, is at the link above (here.)
Thanks for visiting.