The Sheila Variations

1992 Diary Flotsam and Jetsam

"That's how I got my bum eye." - Christian

Scenes: Be IN the event. You gotta want it.

"Oh, look. A whore. Running." - M. [I am laughing out loud. Too long a story to set up but I had completely forgotten about it - and he was referring to ME - but obviously it was a joke - and the dry way he said it - with all those end stops - "Oh look. A whore. Running."]

Paul: "Sheila - do you have something about colored tights and sweaters?"
Bobby: "It's called fashion, Paul."

Mitchell on Shane: "He's a pathological Barney Rubble ... He's ... squat ... and uptight."

Jackie: "You can sit on the back porch and drink wine in a gingham slip."

10/8/92
"I PAINT WHAT I SEE." - Bill Hurt

"Nice necklace. Deal with me, bitch!"

"I'm not friendly. I'm just a siren." - Me

Jackie: "How long are you gonna stay here?"
Me: "As long as it takes, baby."

Christian: "I didn't know DNA could do that."

"You're totally slut-hetero."

Me: "I think P. likes me!"
Mitchell: "Sheila, I think he recognized you."

"He called me 'babe'."
"Why do I have to deal with that?"

Samuel is just the dearest little cat - so cuddly, so warm. He and Mitchell bonded instantly. He's a good companion. I must rattle on like a bimbo. This is what my journals have become about. I just CANNOT write about the big bad wolf. Can't. Some people use journals to hash shit out. I used to use my journal in that way. And now all I do is talk about boys. Golden Boy is teaching me so much - and not just about acting. It's about escape. The value of escape. I write and write and write about all of my BOYS. Gives me ... joy? Maybe not joy. But I have not one iota of desire to write about my demons in here. I need to push them away.

I will rave about men and analyze the tiniest encounters and dwell obsessively upon miniscule moments and have entire relationships in my head - beginning middle end ... I am fucking evolved enough. Time for escape. Escape thru P.M. and the M. Saga. Last night, Jackie, David, Mitchell and I went to see P.M. - I made them go - and it was his birthday at midnight - we all got noise blowers - there was cake - bagpipes - a girl riverdanced for him - He blew out the candles. I wonder what he's really like, and if I will ever get to know him.

But meanwhile. I am in total M. Mania. He truly is a sweetheart. He is. Drunken bacchanals notwithstanding. He is a totally fucked up sweetheart. He's got a good heart pounding in there.

A sad heart - but a good one.

-- Bryan smoking smoke rings
-- Amelia in white - she looks so fragile - absolutely breakable
-- Michael - hair slicked back - he bruised a couple ribs over the weekend - now walks like an old man. I am bonding with Michael. We make each other giggle like irresponsible maniacs and Bobby has to tell us to shut up.

10/1
*Listen - so that you're ready to go when you talk - Listening is forward-propelled

Sc. 2 - Get back the drowsiness - until later in the scene
Fight: don't play the end of it. Go hit by hit
Play the fullness of being involved

Sc. 5 - Don't hug Poppa
"Gee, Poppa" - Action: asking Poppa if I can come over to him

My illnesses always seem to be psychosomatic. Germs assault me after a catharsis ... so now I am sick sick sick. And this is the closing weekend of Golden Boy. Lots of anxiety and sadness about that. But right now I am battling these germs with every ounce of energy I have. Clenching up again. My skin is peeling, my nose is chapped. I feel gross. Woke up groggy 2 nights ago, fucked up from Nyquil but aware too that something was SERIOUSLY WRONG. I felt AWFUL. Stumbled blindly to the toilet and proceeded to get sick for half an hour. I'm just breaking down all over the place. Systems fucking shutting DOWN. When I get sick, I get sick like I do everything else in my life. I do it BIG. With a fucking flourish.

10/15
Innocence upsets Neil. He feels he must attack it, tarnish it, bring it down.

Mitchell bought an entire Vanity Fair mag. simply because there was a Calvin Klein Marky Mark ad in it. Whatever works, babe. Whatever works.

I keep running into old flames. I've only lived here for 6 months and I already have heaps of old flames, scattered up and down the Lake shore.

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