Saturday Morning Meta.

I wonder if this is something that only artists do, or if it’s common or universal, to move through life while simultaneously watching and mentally composing and memorizing the story for later use. Now that I think about it, I suspect it might be very common now, in this age of Twitter and Facebook status updates; but, then again, maybe these new social networks don’t create, but just provide a convenient forum for, a natural human tendency to crystallize and flourish.

I have to say it has felt a little edgy, writing about my breakup here, immediately making public all the really intense, awful stuff. Live-blogging my heartbreak.

I feel compelled. It’s like when J and R and I were on the road and things started spinning out of control, there was a part of J and me that was like, “Grab the camera and point it this way, some shit’s about to go down.” I just feel compelled.

Besides whatever value it might have for others to read, the writing is where I organize my thoughts. I write down whatever I’m feeling or thinking about, but then I spend a substantial amount of time rewriting and editing, moving stuff around, finding a better word, with the goal of being as simple and clear and truthful as I can be. I’m not just organizing the writing: organizing the sentences and paragraphs is a way of organizing my thoughts.

And it suspends the pain and pressure for a while, too, it really does. I think it’s because when I write I am at a critical distance, a philosophical distance. And the fact that I can sit down and do this reassures me that, when everything is fucked up and I can’t manage my life, at least this one important part of me is functioning.

A couple friends have sent me appreciative emails about this little chronicle; so I feel like it’s okay.

The only thing I’ve been slightly reticent about is some of the specific content of communication I’ve had with M. In the last few days, we’ve emailed a couple times about my bicycle, which I left at his house. I took the opportunity to ask him questions about what happened, and he has shared some of his thoughts, and it’s been calm and clear and nice. We have plans to meet this weekend and talk more. I’ve been reticent to share much of that conversation because for some reason I don’t want to make him feel like it’s his life being scrutinized along with mine. (But actually I just remembered having a conversation with him a couple months ago about the ethics of an artist working in an autobiographical idiom using the details of others’ lives in his work, and M expressed a much more permissive attitude than I did, so I’m probably safe.)

I don’t know if he even reads this. I think he used to from time to time, but I’ve never imagined him as being in the audience. Hm.

Future.

T and I have been emailing and talking on the phone the last couple weeks about Lizzie Borden (the new exciting thing about which coincided with my breakup freakout so it got a little overshadowed but about which I still can’t tell anyone dammit! -- but soon), and also about me moving back to New York, and about the two of us forming a company to do new work together. New theater work, film/video, hybrid performance. I’m excited about the possibility of performing again, and about writing songs again. I haven’t done either in years.

My creative energy kicks in when I have someone to work with, someone else’s ideas to bounce around, someone’s confidence in me, and someone’s expectations of me. I know this fact says all kinds of interesting things about my personality, about non-art aspects of my life, my history with men, my relationship with M being particularly in the news lately, but is it a bad thing that I need to overcome? Can it just be a way of working, and not a disorder? Independence is overrated.

School?

If I’m not going to make a living as an artist, I would love to be teaching college kids -- I think I could do my work and teach, and in fact the two would feed each other, right? That’s like a thing that people do.

In order to teach college, I need another degree or two, an MFA or a PhD, depending on what it is I want to teach. I love being in school, so it’s not like I would mind spending another few years getting a degree. The big question is, is that a good plan if my goal is to change this state of never-ending financial duress? Smaller questions are: what would I study? where? is it financially feasible?

The main reason for going back to school 3 years ago was that I thought if I had an MFA in film I would be able to teach college. I spent 2 years finishing my BA so I could apply to the MFA program here at Texas. I didn’t consider other MFA programs because at the time I wanted to stay in Austin. I was tired of moving around, and I wanted to make a home here. Well, one, I didn’t get into the MFA program, and, two, I haven’t made a home here, and in fact I’m pretty sure I’m leaving.

Do these circumstances add up to say that I should be looking at MFA programs in New York? Should I be applying to NYU film school? What the fuck? Why am I so unsure of myself? I just want to relax and feel like I made the right decision for once.

Thursday.

I’d say I’m doing quite a bit better the last couple days. No crying to speak of (though that’s untested, since I’m good at avoiding the triggers). The contact I had with M yesterday made me feel a bit less crazy. Besides everything else, just the physical fact of apruptly not seeing or talking to him, suddenly spending evenings alone in my room with no one to talk to, was disorienting.

I’m clearheaded enough now to be embarrassed about some of my behavior in the last two weeks: returning M’s gifts to him, driving by his house at night,, unfriending him on Facebook. Embarrassed, but inclined to forgive myself and be glad I didn’t do anything worse.

I spent hours yesterday and today looking up and applying for jobs in New York. And there’s been a flurry of activity with Lizzie Borden. I’m dying to announce some news, but I have to wait for a few days for an official press release before I can talk about it. I’ve also been watching movies for the film festival, so my days have been full.

I’m meditating. Hard to say if it’s helping, it’s such a slow, incremental process. I’m not finding the Pema Chodron book to be, as I thought it would be, what I need right now, but her voice is reassuring and the words are wise. I’m also reading a book by Max Frisch called Man in the Holocene, which is a long story or a short novel and a bit of a slog. T is interested in it as a possible source for a new show. It’s not exactly straightforward.

Reading is a frustrating experience. My glasses -- which are not that old (I got new ones after my accident last summer) -- are for shit. I can either hold a book at arm’s length and the text is clear but so far away I have to strain to make it out or take off my glasses and hold the book 6 inches in front of my face where it’s crystal clear but … well, 6 inches in front of my face. My lenses cost about $8-900. I have bad eyes.

I’m still eating virtually identical salads for dinner every night, though tonight I varied it a bit with my sister’s simple Greek dressing (lemon juice, olive oil, oregano, garlic, salt and pepper). Eggs for lunch, no breakfast. Beer.

What I Miss II

Other things I miss are M’s misanthropic, possibly slightly insane, but very funny roommate and his maybe girlfriend (I never was quite sure), who made me feel liked, and her sly daughter. And M’s roommate’s very sweet and very needy but well-behaved black lab, and M’s two gorgeous, affectionate, and funny cats. And M’s two best guy friends, colleagues from work, whose company I enjoyed very much. I had become an adjunct member of M’s household, and I felt comfortable and appreciated there. I miss that.

M and I have had a couple of emails back and forth the last two days. Until a few days ago, I had forgotten that I left my bicycle at his house. I had to contact him about that, and I was grateful for a reason. I also asked him again if he could articulate some of his thoughts about the change in his feelings. He sent me a long reply explaining some of what he was thinking about me and us and what was wrong. After reading it, I felt like a big portion of the weight on my heart had been lifted. I want more than anything to learn from this.

One thing I’ve learned is that I really do want a partner. I don’t know exactly what that relationship would look like, and I think the parameters are wider now after this experience, but I don’t want to be alone. I feel somewhat relieved to admit that. For a long time after J and I separated, I thought I did want to be alone. I thought I was better alone. At the time maybe I was, because I wasn’t very good at being with someone. I didn’t know how to not lose myself.

But I think I am learning. I think eventually, maybe before I’m too old to enjoy it, I’ll get good at being in a relationship. It doesn’t have to be with just one man -- two or three would be fine with me, but I don’t want to be alone.

Tonight I watched a short doc, one of the films submitted to the festival, and it blew me away, gave me hope for the future and for New York. The subject was a burlesque performance artist and total gender freak and devotee of some Hindu religion making a life for him or herself in New York. I was very moved.

Rain.

Maybe it’s my age, but lately I seem to second-guess every decision I made about my career. I wonder lately if I ever even made any decisions or if I just went along with whatever came at me.

If a return to New York is going to be a fresh start, I need a new way of being. I want to have learned at least some small thing from this time, this experience, not just this relationship with M but the last few years of what has felt to me like trying and trying and failing and failing.

I know sometimes I’m a know-it-all. I profess to know myself very well. I always think I know what’s going on. Sometimes I do. But obviously sometimes I don’t at all. Whatever I’m doing lately, or ever, is not working.

I think I’ve always felt a bit like this, but lately it’s really intense this feeling of “why is it so hard? why is every little thing so hard?” I know it’s all of my own making – that’s what I’m trying to figure out: how it happens. So I can change it. What is the process that gets me here? What can I be doing differently?

I think I need not necessarily to be examining what I was attached to and disappointed to lose in my relationship with M. I need to be examining what I am attached to in myself, what is it about me that I think, “this is who I am, this is the way I am.” What is it I’m doing, what is it I believe about myself that is creating so much friction?

It’s raining hard today. I opened my window. It smells good.

What I Miss.

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