“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.
“I think he RECOGNIZED you.”
Funniest thing ever said to another human being.
Alex – hahahahaha I know! I was all a-twitter with romance … Mitchell brought me back down to earth. (However, I must add: I was actually RIGHT.) tee hee
/You can sit on the back porch and drink wine in a gingham slip./
That Jackie is sure quotable. Lovely.
OF COURSE i bought the mag…Marky Mark!!! ..remember when we crushed on him in the box? u had the book dedicated to his d**k…and NOW he’s an Oscar nom…love it!!