So I erased my poem to an obsession of old

Later I decided it was lame.

I still emailed it to myself so it exists in some kind of posterity. But there's something, well, I think a little distatsteful, about my tendency to have a bad week and start right in romanticizing stuff from the past. I wil always remember Mike Welch, but...

Well okay, I liked that poem. But what can I say - I just got embarassed about it later. Something about it seemed so very lame - admitting I still think about some mysterious guy who I'm sure doesn't rememeber me. He exemplified soemthing to me though - from that period of working at that Hollywood restaurant. When he didn't, (well, there's no other word but fuck,) fuck me, he thought it showed there were "good people in LA" - How could you not remember that guy and wonder about him? I am only human. Well, anyway, I guess my point is, friends, I can't believe I told you about that. These blogs are dangerous.

I hate foundering. That's a word right? Like "floundering" in meaning but more like your center moves, not that you flap like a fish... very similar though.

All told, all these feelings, the recriminations to my mother, the search through the past for why it isn't all settled now -- it all amounts to I need to get into a writing program, still, need to keep my sights on that, still, and God it would be better if that had happened already but it hasn't and that's still the goal.

This summer, I'll have summer Fridays. I think I'm deciding now that I won't spend these at the beer garden, that I'll spend them doing applications try 3, year 3. To Iowa, to Brooklyn college, to Columbia again, to Texas again although I'll never get into that one. My therpist wasn't telling me to go back into my deepest sorrow about my narcissistic mother. (I still haven't seen him but I'm still thinking about what has been going in my own mind for myself) - he was just saying I need to do what I'm good at. This frustration is tiring though and it's fragmenting - wanting things. I can't quit work until there is something like a program replacing it.

Afer a wedding Friday night, I went to my Dad's. They left on a vacay monday and starting Sunday I tried to get myself a good memorial Day worked out since they'd be gone. I tried to see if this guy who I hooked up with from the show next door to the shows I'm assoc. producing would go to a Mets game with me. He couldn't. Someone else who i met out once and have only IMd with since invited me by. I had him written off because he always only asks me over in this "wanna come over right now?" way I resent. I went over to his place for the first time since I met him. Poor guy - he's an artist - he's pretty artist-y. He has epilepsy. He had had a seizure earlier in the year. I forgave him his way of inviting me over and his strange issue of attention when I considered that. But inside it was the same old deep sigh. It won't be love. We don't really understand eachother. I'm too grounded. What I need, I haven't found yet. I can search for Mike Welch on facebook. But fact remains, who I'm for, who's for me, I haven't found. In the meantime, I should be writing, but I can't until some program makes that my real work. this is not a mental block. It's an hours in the day block. I could look for a job in TV but... I don't know -- they say the way to do that is to write an episode for an existing show? I just... well, I wish I were in a program.

the other thing is to think abut trying to produce my wild airplane play on my own. That is very intimidating as well - and yes, how would I keep working?

I like to think about ten years from now, after I've been to a writing program and sat in the Iowa fields writng stories and plays. I'll say "The period where I was working in New York and couldn't get into a program was very hard. That was very hard and I didn't know how or when I'd get where I was going."

In the end, on memorial day, I went and saw that artist and then went on my way to Malik's rooftop party where I was very bored. I left, with a headache and drunkish, and Malik asked if I got any good networking done and I felt sad about hat question. In the subway - I saw that coworker who i once wrote about - he gives tours of rock center and doesn't mention communism... he sat next to me until his stop and we talked a little about this crazy world where we pretend what we want is to get in good "networking." He's quitting it turns out. He said he'd tell me more in an email but he hasn't emailed. What a weird day you know. it was like a sampler of guys who aren't the guy. And that's fine but I'd be lying if isaid iwasn't still living with some frustration and htat it wasn't depressing to turn the key to my door after a smapler like that. Still just me not where I'm going yet.

XO - getting better all the time.

love
Alexis