This Saturday 10/3 I'm performing a new piece called Mad Girl at an evening of performances called Collapse (or, falling flat). It's free and it's close by and I want you to come. Mad Girl is a punk performance about hell and feminism and mental illness. It's different from THE GOOD DAUGHTER but a couple of the songs might carry over. It feels right for right now.
Truly, Mercury is Retrograde. I want to blame the stars. I want to blame celebrities. Instead I blame myself. I should know better. I should have known. I should have listened to my horoscopes. The various forecasts, the coins I constantly toss. To be fair, all my horoscopes predicted me falling into certain traps. Some unavoidable miscommunications, hurt feelings, et cetera. Some of this is business: I'm no good at business.
But some of it is also, some of the confusion is really deeply troubling. I feel very upset over very small things. And I lash out, and I'm disorganized. And I'm confused. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. It seems like I'm just doing everything wrong.
God, that scene in Bleu where she scrapes her fist along the wall?
So now what? How to apologize. How to go back? Can we start over. Can you forget me. Can you delete me. Let me add myself again.
Who are the other girls in Mazzy Star in 1994? What were their other bands? You know? This is what I preoccupy myself with. Were they in Dickless or Pork or some other Foxcore band in Los Angeles in the late 1990s?
Last night I had a dream about Doppelganger from LA. In the late 1990s. They were this death-rock band fronted by Janna James and Joan Sceline. I think I saw an ad for their single "Mad Sky" in Spin Magazine and I mail ordered it in 1998? 97? Later I got their album Meet Your Evil Twin and eventually I got to see them open for Switchblade Symphony.
At some point I wrote a fan letter and Joan Sceline wrote back, with some advice about how to learn to play guitar, and warning me not to do drugs, saying "there's nothing glamorous about a coffin" (sort of off-brand for a rock group). Anyway last night I had a dream about them, about Doppelganger. I dreamed that I ran into Janna James and I told her I'd seen them in the late 1990s and we laughed and she said that at that show she was the only original member, everyone else had been a studio musician or hired hand for the tour or something. We had a good chuckle about it.
I woke up and had been bitten all over by mosquitoes again. Rubbed more antihistamine gel into my legs, my face, my arms. Sleeping pill gel. Checked my phone in the middle of the night to see another confusing rejection. How disappointing.
Something about staring you right in the face. I sometimes make fun of people for having crazy goat eyes. You know what I mean. Like... Susan Sarandon is an example of how pretty it can be, but it can be scary.
Ugh. I feel like I ruin everything I touch. I feel like even trying to take care of myself, I do it wrong. Either I piss everyone off for legitimate reasons or illegitimate reasons. I feel that I cannot win for trying. Everything I attempt blows up in my face, spectacularly. what's more, I am convinced that I deserve it, somehow. And so I'm just racking my brain to figure out what I did wrong. Why don't you like me but you like my friends. Why don't you want to date me. Why don't you want to be around me. What is wrong with me. What is so wrong with me as to be blatantly obvious to everyone else but me.
How to console oneself when one doesn't feel worthy. How to console the worthless?