Sensitive Slut
Sunday
1:29 a.m.
About an hour ago I decided to leave the couch even though I didn’t really want to. Didn’t really want to because I feared that there would be loneliness waiting for me in my empty bedroom. But I flossed and brushed my teeth and washed my face and moisturized and turned all of the lights out and lied down in the dark and felt only slightly unwell. It’s warm inside because it’s been warm outside for a few days. My apartment is so old and every time LA gets two or three days of heat my apartment is hot and every time LA gets two or three days of cold my apartment is like ice. The ceiling fan is running. One of the bedroom windows is cracked and there is the tiniest warm breeze. I do not feel well, emotionally. Feel doomed, full of self loathing. Want to sleep but feel afraid to run the risk of turning my phone screen off and closing my eyes and being left alone with myself for more than like, thirty seconds.
6:22 a.m.
Literally fuck my life.
6:54 a.m.
Having an impossible time getting out of bed. Just formatted and published last week’s diaries to the blog from bed. Everything I wrote last week bores me, feels lacking. So much happened and yet so little. What was all of that. All of that was nothing. Need to get up.
7:43 a.m.
Wasn’t able to force myself up till 7:15 a.m. Jesus. So I had to rush through getting ready and I did a bad job, I think. I am wearing a terrible outfit and I didn’t have time to put anything on my face. Just washed and moisturized and brushed my greasy hair and dressed myself in the Reformation pants I bought at Wasteland and a randomly ugly sweater I haven’t worn in months and my most hideously beat up pair of Lanvin ballet flats. I took norethindrone and claritin and didn’t have time to take anything else. Typing all of this from the Starbucks parking lot on Wilshire. Want this day to be over with already and it really hasn’t even begun. Need to collect my four shot hot americano and need to fix my hair and then need to clock in and somehow find a way to make the subsequent eight hours pass with ease. I listened to Mild High Club songs while speeding down the 101 to the 110 to the 10. Early Sunday morning trafficless-ness is such a beautiful thing. Went eighty or faster for the entire twenty-something minute drive and it felt blissful.
10:38 a.m.
Having an exhausting and vibeless morning thus far but who cares. I am almost three hours down. Five hours to go. Typing this while standing in the coffee shop across the street from the studio, waiting for the gay barista to pour my hot dirty chai. I ordered my hot dirty chai with 2% milk because I do not like myself today. Also ordered a slice of banana bread for REDACTED. She just got in and I really wanted some air and so I offered to procure her a slice of banana bread in an attempt to make it so that my disappearing for a little while so early in the day didn’t seem completely indolent and self serving. Just wanted air, sunshine. I can see the ocean straight down Wilshire and I want to go to it, walk into it, but I can’t. I am in my ugly outfit with my greasy hair and dry skin and I kind of feel like crying but there is no time. Three hours down, five hours to go. Three hours down, five hours to go. God, five hours sounds like so much but it’s really not that much. 4 p.m. will come and then I will be free to enjoy a wonderful long afternoon and evening to myself. Want to dye my roots and wash my hair and do a load of laundry, maybe, and give myself a face massage with my gua sha in the bath and do the dishes and reset everything in my entire life. Make everything clean and nice. Start over completely. And then I want to order weed delivery and get stoned and eat sesame noodles and watch a movie or something.
1:14 p.m.
Lunch break. Eating a seeded bar in the empty break room and drinking my third cup of coffee.
Coffee #1: four shot hot americano with a quarter inch of cream
Coffee #2: double shot 2% hot chai
Coffee #3: break room hot black coffee
It’s been a calm day full of commiserating and idle chatter. REDACTED and I have been sitting together all day, chatting and chatting and complaining and complaining. Low vibrational behavior but it’s not really my fault. Misery seeks company or whatever.
4:09 p.m.
So fucking out of here.
4:52 p.m.
Walking down the hill towards the bungalow. Spent the mostly painless and trafficless drive back to Hollywood listening to the Red Scare girls talk about The Olympics.
5:06 p.m.
Unlocked the bungalow door, undressed immediately, fed the cats, ate a piece of dark chocolate standing naked in front of the refrigerator and then went into the bathroom and started running the bath. I massaged dark brown root dye into my crown and now I am letting the chemicals sink into my skull while I sink into the bath.
6:16 p.m.
Out of the bath at last. What a grueling experience that was, and for no reason at all really. I dyed my hair and then washed the dye out of my hair and then shampooed my hair and conditioned my hair and let the conditioner sit while I exfoliated all over and shaved all over and washed my face. It was exhausting and a little bit nauseating but now that it’s all over and done with, now that I am sitting in the drained tub wrapped up in my fluffy pink towel with clean hair that smells like seabuckthorn oil and a clean body that smells like eucalyptus I feel very pleased. Feel soft and silky and clean and very pleased. The thought of standing up and combing my hair out is completely hellish to me, but I must. If I want to make it out to the living room couch where my laptop and my joint are waiting for me, I must.
6:37 p.m.
Forced myself out of the bath and into my Cou Cou slip. I brushed my hair through with Olaplex No. 7 and applied prescription cream and moisturizer everywhere between my forehead and tits and now I am lying on the couch stoned with my laptop just like I wanted to be. I smoked my joint outside on the back steps and just as I began to feel high my mother texted praying for you today which made me paranoid.
10:25 p.m.
Fell asleep sometime around 7 p.m. and am just now coming to consciousness again. Feel absolutely discombobulated and dead. I ate probably five hundred calories worth of rice crackers while looking at the internet on my laptop and then I rolled and smoked another joint on the back steps under the moonlight and then came back inside shut my eyes and didn’t open them again until now. Want to peel myself off of the couch and turn all of the lights out and put myself straight to bed without flossing or brushing my teeth. Want to do that but also know that when I wake up in the morning and remember I didn’t floss or brush my teeth I will be filled with self loathing. And yet I think I am going to choose self loathing.
Monday
7:29 a.m.
I am awake and it feels alright. There is a whisper of a cramp spreading across my abdomen and I am worried that as soon as I stand up, take myself out of bed, the pussy hemorrhaging will begin. Fuck. Need to put a load of laundry in the basement machine as soon as possible if I want clean clothes to wear to work before I head out for my daily pilgrimage to the west side.
7:48 a.m.
Finally rose from bed and yes, as soon as I rose the hemorrhaging began. Fuck. Suspicions were unfortunately correct. I am always bleeding on the eve of the full moon. What does it mean?
8:26 a.m.
Very productive first forty-five-ish minutes of my morning. I immediately put a bunch of clothes in my empty Brandy Melville black paper bag and walked them downstairs to the basement laundry machine. Started the washer and came back upstairs and scooped the litter box and fed the cats their breakfast and took a bag of kitchen trash out to the dumpster. I lit palo santo and swallowed my vitamins and pills and mixed an ashwagandha-ACV-ener-c tonic in a little baby pink ridged glass. I didn’t have time to eat my supplements or drink my tonic yesterday and I was in the worst mood. Maybe placebo, maybe not. Either way I am double dosing myself with ashwaganda today, just in case.
8:31 a.m.
Ex boyfriend texted good morning beautiful, would you like a cup of coffee and I said yes and so he is going to come collect me and take me for coffee. My hair is wavy and natural for the first time since I entered blowout-addiction-psychosis a month or so ago and it feels nice. It looks pretty and curly and I am officially out of blowout-addiction-psychosis I think. For now, at least.
8:46 a.m.
Ex boyfriend arrived and I needed to flip my clothes into the dryer so he parked the car and came down to the basement with me. He scooped me all the way up off of the ground and kissed me and carried me like a baby in his arms through the backyard into the basement. Which is something really only a 6’5 man like him can do for a five 5’9 girl like me. He set me down and watched me put the wet clothes into the dryer and then picked me back up in his arms and carried me back up the stairs out of the backyard and all the way through the courtyard, out through the gates and straight to his car on the street. Now I am sitting in his passenger seat, typing this while he flies us down Sunset Boulevard towards the Gower Gulch so that we can collect two four shot hot americanos to begin our morning.
10:57 a.m.
Things that happened in the past two hours:
Picked up our four shot hot americanos from the Gower Gulch
Asked ex boyfriend if we could stop by the drugstore for tampons and so we did. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, my mother called and I picked up and paced around the parking lot talking to her for about fifteen minutes while ex boyfriend smoked a joint in the sunshine, leaned up against the passenger side door of his car. My mother talked about her new promotion and my uncle’s cancer and my other uncle’s cancer. She tried to fish for information about my father but I didn’t have any because I haven’t spoken to him in weeks. Months, even, maybe. Can’t remember right now. Felt a pit of guilt in my stomach at the realization that I had no information about my father because I haven’t spoken to him in months/weeks
Hung up with my mother and went into the drugstore with stoned ex boyfriend. He bought me two packs of super natural pure cotton tampons
Got back into his car. He asked if he could come inside for a few minutes to say hi to Bunny and Isa and I said why not. So he parked and came inside for a few minutes. He said he could smell the palo santo I lit this morning and he said that it smelled nice. We lied on the couch and sipped our coffee and realized that the stupid gay baristas forgot our quarter inches of cream. He said let’s go to Lazy Acres where they never forget our quarter inches of cream so we got up off of the couch and went back out and onto the street and got back into his car and sped down Franklin to Lazy Acres. Lazy Acres: where they never forget our quarter inches of cream
We drove with the windows down because it is so beautiful outside. He played “ATM” by Don Toliver on repeat and every time Don Toliver said Range Rover bus we said Range Rover bus too. We went into Lazy Acres together and he bought us new americanos with cream. While they were pulling our espresso shots we walked around. I selected a small cut wedge of cheese and two coconut granola macro bars and a canister of trail mix from the bulk bins. Spent seventeen dollars on those four things and felt happy. We left Lazy Acres with our americanos and drove back down Franklin to the bungalow
Ex boyfriend parked his car and came inside again and we went into the bedroom and took all of our clothes off and had sex. It’s been a little while since we last had sex. Felt nice. Felt fine. Having sex with ex boyfriend is like brushing my teeth. I know his body and he knows my body and nothing interesting ever happens, really. It’s not bad, it’s just that nothing interesting ever happens. Missionary with lots of kissing. Lasted three or four minutes, maybe. When it was over I went into the bathroom to piss out his ejaculate and put a tampon in and when I looked in the mirror my mouth and cheeks were all red from his stubble. That was at 10:40-something, I think, and he had a work call to take at 11 a.m. so he got dressed and kissed me goodbye and went home
Felt a little bit empty inside at his departure. The usual. So I lied down on the couch alone and started typing this. It feels nice and warm in the bungalow. Warm, but not oppressively so. I am drinking my hot americano and trying to decide what time I should leave Hollywood for Santa Monica for my late shift at the studio. Noon, probably
5:18 p.m.
Lunch break. Haven’t had a chance to write one single word since I wrote what I wrote at 10:57 a.m. It took me forever to get ready for work because it took me forever to get dressed. Tried on one million items of clothing and felt badly about each of them. Felt badly about my body. Felt badly about my face. Felt badly about my hair. Felt badly about everything and couldn’t get myself out of the house until 12:30 p.m. I sped down the 101 to the 405 to the 10 and made it to the studio eight minutes late. Whatever. Didn’t care. Which is out of character. It is a slow paced day and it’s going to be an early night because the last shoot on the schedule cancelled. Happy about this, very happy about this. Think I will probably be out of here before 9. Well before 9, I hope. Fingers crossed. Need to escape. REDACTED is being psychotic. He has been seeing and fucking REDACTED every night since she broke up with her boyfriend for him, or so he says. Tomorrow he and I are supposed to drive up to Solvang with REDACTED and her daughter for her daughter’s birthday. I showed up to the studio late and not in a great mood and he said S*******, why don’t we do mushrooms together tonight. I said I can think of several reasons why we shouldn’t do mushrooms together tonight. He said like what and I said like what would your girlfriend think? And he said we will be really good, we won’t touch and you can spend the night and we can wake up together and go straight to the valley to pick up REDACTED and her daughter together in the morning. Jesus Christ. I said I just really don’t think your girlfriend would like that and he said why do you keep calling her my girlfriend and I said well isn’t she and he said I guess she is and then neither of us said anything for a few seconds. But then I said if I was your girlfriend and you did mushrooms with a girl and then had a sleepover I would be sick to my stomach, I would be so mad at you. He said but I want to do it, why shouldn’t I be allowed to do what I want to do, I want to have fun with you, you’re my friend, aren’t we friends? And I said yes, I guess and he said how about you think about it and let me know, I’m leaving the studio before you tonight and you’ll have time to think about it and let me know. I said okay and he said perfect and walked away. What the hell is wrong with him. He is going to leave in like thirty minutes and then I’ll be all alone, left to think. Fuck. I was nauseous when I arrived this afternoon and I’ve been nauseous ever since. I am eating a tiny bag of pretzel goldfish. I ate a coconut granola macro bar at the desk earlier out of nauseous desperation and then I drank two cups of black coffee. Stupid decision. Jesus Christ, what the fuck. I am not doing mushrooms with REDACTED tonight. How could I possibly do mushrooms with REDACTED tonight? Doing mushrooms with REDACTED would be a very stupid thing to do tonight. Am I going to be stupid or smart? Stupid or smart, stupid or smart, stupid or smart. I really cannot decide.
7:29 p.m.
My evening at the studio will soon come to a close and I am still undecided about mushrooming. Before he left, about an hour ago, REDACTED said what if I came to your place instead of you coming to mine, does that help you decide? And I said that helps a little, I guess, but I don’t know why. He said perfect, can I bring my dog? And I said I am not sure that you can even bring yourself yet and he said fine, you’re not sure yet, when will you be sure? And I said I’m not sure if I will ever be sure and he said well, call me when you’re sure and then he left. He seemed a bit irritated by my lack of immediate compliance. His irritation is pushing my indecision more towards no than yes. Don’t feel like calling him and tell him no, think maybe the best thing to do would be to not call him at all. He said to call him when I’m sure and so I guess will just never be sure and therefore never call.
8:16 p.m.
Just locked the studio doors and now it’s time to speed home. Not going to call REDACTED. Not going to call REDACTED. Not going to call REDACTED.
9:07 p.m.
Sitting in my parked car, typing into my phone. Made it back to Hollywood without calling REDACTED, but not without REDACTED calling me. My phone started buzzing halfway down the 405 and I picked it up and he said so are you sure yet and I said no and he said do you still want to go to Solvang tomorrow and I said of course, it’s important to REDACTED and kind of an honor that she wants us to spend her daughter’s birthday with her, no? And he said I don’t think you should come and I said why not and he said I don’t know, I just don’t think you should and I said you don’t want me to come? And he said I don’t know. What the fuck. He is so gay for that. I said it’s not really about you though, it’s about her and her daughter and he said well this whole day was my idea and I said okay, so you’re going to call REDACTED and tell her that you don’t want me to come? And he said, again, I don’t know. I felt so annoyed, I hung up the phone. He called back immediately and I didn’t pick up. What the actual fuck. Why is he making REDACTED’S eleven year old daughter’s birthday about him? Drama. What the fuck is going on. Thought about calling REDACTED and telling her that REDACTED is being a diva and trying to punish me for not doing mushrooms with him tonight behind his stupid Disney Channel girlfriend’s back by leaving me out of our plans tomorrow but ultimately did not call. Called ex boyfriend instead and told him that I felt depressed and wanted to see him. He said are you home and I said I will be in five-ish minutes and he said perfect, park your car, I’ll pick you up and take you to In-N-Out. So he is on his way to pick me up and take me to In-N-Out, I guess.
11:42 p.m.
Things that happened in the past two and a half hours:
Got into ex boyfriend’s car and let him drive us down Highland to Sunset to the In-N-Out across from Hollywood High. Waited in a strangely short line of cars for our cheeseburgers and fries. He asked me why I felt depressed and I said I don’t know, I just do even though I do know and simply cannot say. How could I say? I simply cannot say. Sometimes when there are things that I simply cannot say to ex boyfriend I wonder what things ex boyfriend simply cannot say to me. I think about what those things that he simply cannot say might be and then I get sad and paranoid
Brought our cheeseburgers and fries into the bungalow and sat on the couch together eating while Trailer Park Boys played on the TV. Felt comforted and a little bit depressed every time I looked over and saw him sitting beside me. We’ve been broken up and living apart for something like five months now and it feels so strange. He used to be the supervillain of my life and now he is something else entirely, something I cannot define and do not know if I will ever be able to define
Watched three-ish episodes of Trailer Park Boys with ex boyfriend. He rolled two joints and we smoked one each on the back steps. We smoked in silence, mostly. Most of our time together is spent in silence because ex boyfriend doesn’t know how to ask questions. He knows how to complain and he knows how to talk about work and he knows how to fight with me but he does not know how to ask questions. I know how to ask questions but I do not ask him questions anymore. I used to ask him questions but over time his not asking me any questions back made me angry and hardened a pit of resentment inside of me. His lack of curiosity used to piss me off but now it’s kind of nice. His lack of curiosity is very useful right now. He asked me one question this evening, I guess: why do you feel depressed. But when I answered vaguely he didn’t push because he never pushes and I don’t even think he even cares about the answer, really
Now it’s late and I am typing this into my phone from the bathroom. Ex boyfriend is naked and snoring on the side of my bed that used to be his. REDACTED tried calling again about ten minutes ago, right after I started writing this, and I declined. He can fuck right off. I guess I will not be joining him and REDACTED and REDACTED’S daughter on their roadtrip to Solvang tomorrow. My car is parked on the wrong side of the street because tomorrow is Tuesday street cleaning and so regardless of my forthcoming suddenly eventless day, I will need to be up at 7:45 a.m. to move my fucking car regardless. It’s time to brush my teeth and wash my face and undress and tuck myself into bed next to unconscious ex boyfriend
Tuesday
10:23 a.m.
Jesus Christ. What an unexpectedly psychotic morning this morning has been. Woke up at 7:45 a.m. to my alarm ringing out to remind me to move my car for street cleaning. But I felt so sleepy and “This Charming Man” never wakes up ex boyfriend and so I turned the alarm off entirely instead of snoozing it and decided to eat the street cleaning ticket for breakfast. Didn’t wake up again till 9 something, and only woke up then because my phone was buzzing. It was REDACTED calling, again, and I declined. But then he called another time and another time and another time and he wouldn’t stop calling and so I looked at my texts and saw that he’d been blowing me up since 8 a.m., asking me if I’d still like to join him and REDACTED and REDACTED’S daughter for a day in Solvang and apologizing for the way he acted last night. My God. Instead of calling him back I shot up and closed myself into the bathroom where ex boyfriend couldn’t hear and dialed REDACTED. She picked up immediately and said what’s going on, REDACTED said you’re thinking of not coming and I immediately launched into the tale of what happened last night, about him wanting to do mushrooms with me and then trying to uninvite me to Solvang because I wouldn’t do the fucking mushrooms. REDACTED said this is crazy, today isn’t about him, what is his fucking problem, I’m going to call him and I said no, you know what, I’m coming and I am going to call him and make him pick me up and she said perfect and I said perfect and then we laughed and hung up. So I called REDACTED and said I just talked to REDACTED and she really wants me to come, I don’t know what the fuck your problem is but you should get over it and pick me up and he said I’m on my way and hung up. So I woke ex boyfriend up and said I have to go to Solvang with my fucking coworkers and he said what and I said nothing, keep sleeping and so he kept sleeping. He slept while I washed my face and brushed my teeth and applied moisturizer and concealer and mascara and he slept while I dressed myself in my favorite jeans and a Brandy Melville striped tank top with a light Brandy Melville sweatshirt on top and cheetah print ballet flats and he slept while I left the bungalow and locked the door behind me and who knows, he might still be sleeping. I am typing all of this from the passenger seat of REDACTED’S stupid fucking car. The top is dropped and his dog’s big sweet head is resting on the center console and he is playing a Wiz Khalifa song at top volume and we are not talking, not talking at all. He called me when he was outside of the bungalow and I ran outside and there he was, standing by the passenger door. He gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek and said good morning and I said I am going to try very hard not to kill you today and he said okay and I said I want to kill you and he said I feel like you’re not joking and I said you are very annoying and he said okay, get in and so I got in and now we are speeding down the 405 towards the Sherman Oaks Westfield to find a gift for REDACTED’S daughter before we drive deeper into The Valley to pick them up and take them north to Solvang. My God, the chaos.
10:53 a.m.
REDACTED parked his car in the lot of the Sherman Oaks Westfield and then we went inside together. He said did you have coffee already and I said no, there was no time and he said let’s get some and so we went into the little 85°C Bakery Cafe and ordered two coffees. They had bottles of Pressed Juicery green juice in a little refrigerator and so I got one of those too. I do not fuck with Pressed Juicery green juice but desperate times call for desperate measures. I beat REDACTED to paying and felt good about myself for beating him to paying. We collected our coffees and then meandered our way to the Pandora on the first floor. Apparently REDACTED’S daughter’s ultimate wish for her eleventh birthday is a Pandora charm bracelet and so we wanted to fulfill her ultimate wish. But the stupid, beautiful teenage girl working at the Pandora said that they were all out of charms and so we were all out of luck. REDACTED said maybe we could just all go shopping together instead, let REDACTED pick out her own charms and I said perfect. So we left the Westfield and headed to Trader Joe’s so that we could show up to REDACTED’S with flowers and a card instead of a charm bracelet. Typing this from the car. REDACTED’S map says that we will arrive at Trader Joe’s in two minutes.
10:35 p.m.
Home at last, holy shit. Things that happened over the past twelve hours:
Bought pink tulips and a birthday card for REDACTED’S daughter at the Sherman Oaks Trader Joe’s. Sat in REDACTED’S car in the parking lot, taking turns writing happy birthday notes. Felt strange writing a happy birthday note for an eleven year old child that I have never met before. He didn’t have a pen and I didn’t think I had one either but I searched through the depths of my bag and found a pen from The Mirage that used to belong to my father. Felt briefly sad, thinking about my father while using my father’s pen
Drove deep into The Valley all the way to REDACTED’S perfect little home. It’s tiny and perfect and it used to be a church. It’s this gorgeous A-frame with massive windows and wooden walls and wooden floors and it’s full of little things. It was a total mess, shit everywhere, and I loved every bit of it. Two bedrooms and a lofted second floor living room. It made me love REDACTED even more than I already do, seeing her perfect messy tiny home. There is this big beautiful magical garden out front and she has every fruit tree you could possibly have. Bananas, oranges, figs, lemons, limes, avocados, strawberries. A house for two fairies. Her daughter ran to me immediately and jumped her little body up into my arms. She said I am so happy you are here, my mom talks about you way too much and I spun her around and said we are going to be best friends by the end of the day and we really did become best friends by the end of the day
Got into the backseat of REDACTED’S car with REDACTED’S daughter and the dog. The dog sat between her daughter and I. Her daughter might be the sweetest little eleven year old being I have ever met. She kept reaching over to hold my hand and she kept telling me that I was pretty. Sweet little angel baby wearing leggings under her dress and sneakers and a floral shawl and little wired glasses on her tiny face. Just a sweetheart. She looks nothing like REDACTED, she is brunette and mousy and cute as can be. REDACTED played Katy Perry songs the whole hour-something drive up the Ventura Freeway to Pete’s in Oxnard, the same cafe that REDACTED and I ate at when he took me on that ill-fated daytrip to Santa Barbara last month
Sat at a four top at Pete’s. REDACTED and I on one side, REDACTED and her daughter on the other. I ate three strips of bacon and two eggs over medium and about three bites of an enormous homemade biscuit. REDACTED tied the dog up to an umbrella holder and the waiter, this lovely and really hot fat guy named Mitch, brought the dog three hamburger patties. We sat and chatted about all kinds of things. Spent probably an hour there, I think. Before the bill could come, REDACTED went to the bathroom and paid for all of us
Loaded the four of us plus the dog back into the car and put Katy Perry back on and drove up, up, up the Ventura freeway. We were passing Lake Cachuma when REDACTED said I think we might run out of gas. And sure enough, he only had three miles of gas left in the tank and we were in the middle of fucking nowhere. We pulled off to the side of the road and I asked him if he knew about his car’s fuel reserves and he said what’s that. Fucking idiot. We routed to the closest gas station which turned out to be in the middle of the Lake Cachuma campsite. We pulled up to a teenage girl manning the campsite toll booth and begged her to let us use the gas station without having a campsite booked and after a few minutes of arguing she agreed. It was so beautiful and green and when we pulled up to the gas station it was closed for lunch. So we killed thirty minutes in the wilderness and it was the most beautiful surprise. REDACTED let the dog off of the leash and REDACTED’S daughter and I ran, ran, ran all around the lake with the dog while REDACTED and REDACTED snuck a few puffs of my Juul by the gas station and took pictures of us. Eventually the gas station cashier came back from her lunch break and let us fill the tank and purchase beverages inside. Bought a giant bottle of Acqua Panna for myself and a bottle of coconut water for REDACTED and a lavender lemonade for her daughter and a can of Coke for REDACTED and then got back into his car and resumed our one hundred mile journey north
Made it to Solvang which was, a little bit, underwhelming. Uncanny and a little bit underwhelming, that tiny Danish colony in the middle of central California. There were lots of old white people milling around and everything felt quiet. We went into a bookstore and I found a used copy of Laughing in the Dark by Nabokov and a book about war that looked like something ex boyfriend would like. Bought both. REDACTED saw me pick up the book about war and said what, are you going to get that for your boyfriend or something and I said ex boyfriend, but yes and he rolled his eyes
We walked around some more, the four of us. I held hands with REDACTED’S daughter all throughout the afternoon because she wanted to hold my hand and who am I to reject the love of an angel. There was this big windmill and we all just kind of stood in front of the big windmill for awhile, going wow. Stopped into two or three tchotchke shops and bought nothing. REDACTED bought REDACTED’S daughter a letterman style jacket that had Solvang sewed on the lapel
REDACTED’S daughter wouldn’t stop talking about Pandora and charm bracelets. She was begging to leave Solvang because she found it boring and so after an hour or two of rooting around we routed to the closest Pandora which was in Santa Barbara. We drove out of Solvang in the last of the sunlight and the sunset was so pretty on the freeway. Before we got into the car, REDACTED pulled me aside and whispered should we stop at a dispensary and get high and I said is that a good idea? And he said I already asked REDACTED and she said that as long as her daughter doesn’t see, it’s fine. She wants to get high too. So I said then let’s get high. So he drove us to a dispensary in Santa Barbara and went inside while the three of us and his dog sat in his car, biding time. He came out with a tiny paper bag and got back into the car and drove us to State Street
We parked and got out and REDACTED’S daughter said I want to walk around with S******* and I want you guys to leave us alone and to my surprise and slight irritation, her mother agreed. We left REDACTED and REDACTED behind and I let her drag me by her tiny hand into some Japanese store filled with stuffed animals and anime figurines. She kept pointing at things and going I want it so badly and I kept saying perfect, I’ll buy it. She piled up six giant stuffies and two blind boxes and a Hello Kitty fuzzy pink purse on the counter and when the teenage boy at the cash register told me that my total was $307, I almost shed a tear. I mean, Jesus Christ. But she was so happy! And it was her birthday! What was a girl to do? I tapped my card for $307 and gave her a piggy back ride all the way to the 7-Eleven, where REDACTED and REDACTED were waiting. I took one look at them and knew that they had just smoked some of the preroll REDACTED bought at the dispensary without me, and I couldn’t help laughing. REDACTED pulled her daughter into Anthropologie and winked at REDACTED and I and so REDACTED and I took the hint and walked into an alley and I let him put the half-smoked joint in my mouth and light it up for me. It was the first second alone we’d had since Trader Joe’s. He watched me take a puff and then he said I don’t like that you bought your ex boyfriend a book at the bookstore and I said what and he said I don’t like it and I said why and he said I just don’t. Seemed like he wanted to argue or something but I wasn’t in the mood and I hadn’t smoked since the night before and each puff of the joint I took made me number and flatter and less willing/able to converse. I said I’m having so much fun today, why are you trying to ruin the fun and he said I’m not and I said let’s not talk about stuff like this anymore and he said okay and then neither of us said anything else. We just finished the joint and crushed the butt into a brick and stood around looking at each other stoned outside of the Anthropologie. REDACTED tried pulling up directions to Pandora on his phone and we found out that the Santa Barbara Pandora was closed and that the nearest Pandora was in Oxnard. Jesus Christ. He went into Anthropologie to break the news to REDACTED and her daughter and a few minutes later we were back piled up in the car together, routing to Oxnard. Felt too stoned to be sitting next to an eleven year old in the car. She kept looking at me and asking me if I was okay and I kept saying yes, yes, of course, just a little sleepy and she’d say me too and then reach her little neck across the dog to rest her head on my shoulder
It was late and so the traffic between Santa Barbara and Oxnard was nothing. Wish the drive had been a little bit longer so that my high could have faded a little bit better, but it wasn’t and so it didn’t. We parked at this outdoor mall in Oxnard and went into the Pandora all together. Felt stoned as fuck in there. Stoned to the point of scared in Oxnard, CA. It was so bright in there, all of those fluorescent lights, and when I caught a glimpse of myself for the first time in hours in one of the little mirrors, I felt scared. Hideous. My hair was frizzing all over and I had mascara under my eyes. Tried to fix what I could without looking vain. REDACTED’S daughter was having a very hard time picking out her charms. We were standing around in there for thirty minutes, probably, just watching her pick out charms. REDACTED knew that he was paying and so every time she added another charm to the counter he looked at me with wide eyes and it was making me laugh so much that I had to go hit my vape and giggle alone outside
Eventually the bracelet was picked and the charms were slid on and REDACTED was eight hundred bucks down and we all left Pandora feeling hungry. There was a Yard House in the little mall and REDACTED asked REDACTED’S daughter if Yard House sounded good for dinner and she said no, I want Shake Shack. So we went to Shake Shack. We ordered our burgers and fries and drinks on a little TV screen at the front. REDACTED ordered an IPA and REDACTED ordered an IPA too and they both looked at me and asked if they should add another, one for me, and I nodded yes for some reason and drank the whole thing. Felt nauseous and bloated on the car ride back to the Valley. Once we pulled back up to REDACTED’S perfect little house we all got out because REDACTED and I wanted to pee before journeying back over the hill to the city. We all kissed goodbye and REDACTED’S daughter said mom, can S******* spend the night? And REDACTED looked at me and saw the no in my eyes and said not tonight. Felt bad for having no in my eyes but also could not imagine spending the night
Got back into the car with REDACTED and the dog and we were all alone again. Felt a little bit uncomfortable because I could tell that he was a little bit mad at me. He was driving really fast toward Hollywood and neither of us were saying anything, which felt okay with me until he said I am a little bit frustrated with you, you know. Instead of asking why or inviting further discussion all I said was: I know. There is so much going unsaid between us at all times but I am too numb to care anymore. And anyway, he has a girlfriend now so really what is there to say
He pulled up outside of the bungalow and got out and opened my door. He kissed my cheek and then gave me a fucking high five, of all things, and said we are going to make this friendship work, S*******. Jesus fucking Christ. I called out have a good night while I was walking inside and he called back something that I couldn’t hear
Unlocked the front door and unbuttoned my jeans and took my top off and immediately lied in repose on the couch to start typing this grueling recap. It is time to feed the cays and eat popcorn and dark chocolate and look at the internet on my phone until I cannot keep my eyes open anymore
11:53 p.m.
Absolutely exhausted. Need to put myself to bed.
Wednesday
12:10 a.m.
Put myself in the bath instead of to bed, for some reason. I turned all of the lights out and went into the bathroom to floss and brush my teeth and wash my face but I just couldn’t do it standing at the sink. Needed to do it in the water. So I filled the bath with hot water and undressed and got in. Don’t know how to feel about anything at all right now, I really don’t. Had a good day, I think. Feel empty inside and I don’t know why.
12:30 a.m.
All dried off and moisturized. Still feeling a tiny bit empty inside but who cares. In bed, free bleeding into a pair of red and white striped Brandy Melville shorts I stole in 2019 from a girl I used to be very close with but haven’t spoken to in years. I wear these shorts all of the time and every time I wear them I think about her. My alarm is set for 9 a.m. because I have to be at the studio by 1 p.m. Don’t want to work, don’t want to work, don’t want to work, but I must.
9:14 a.m.
Awake. Lying in bed. Haven’t moved since I first opened my eyes, which was around 8:30 a.m. I thought I set my alarm for 9 but I guess I set it for 8:30 instead. It woke me up and I didn’t fight it. I watched TikTok on my phone for about forty-five minutes straight and now I do not feel so good. Don’t want to go to work, I don’t feel so good. I need to leave the bungalow in about three hours which feels like an awkward amount of time. How should I fill my three hours? I am not sure. Feel listless. Should probably take myself to the Gower Gulch. If anything can fix my listlessness, it’s a trip to the Gower Gulch.
9:57 a.m.
Okay, fine, forcing myself up and out of bed and into the car for coffee because I actually cannot stop feeling like I am about to cry. I don’t even really know why. Craving hitting a tiny bit of a bowl right now to numb the about-to-cry feeling but I am worried that if I get stoned now I will still be stoned at work. Do I even care anymore? Why shouldn’t I be stoned at work? I am not sure if I care anymore. I think maybe being stoned at work is fine right now at this point in my life.
10:16 a.m.
Sitting in my car in the Gower Gulch parking lot, waiting patiently for my phone to notify me that my four shot hot americano with a quarter inch of cream is ready. I am listening to Red Scare to avoid being alone with my own thoughts. Before I left the bungalow I fed the cats and put a tampon in and swallowed norethindrone and dressed myself in the light Brandy Melville sweatshirt I wore yesterday and Brandy Melville baby blue and white pinstriped pajama pants. Feel ugly. My face looks puffy and not as many bones are showing on my body as there were last week, before my period wreaked havoc on my life. What the fuck ever, who cares. Being a stupid bitch. Not in the mood to go to work this afternoon but at least after I am finished with today I have tomorrow and the next day free.
11:04 a.m.
I picked up my americano and brought it back to the bungalow with me. Went into the kitchen and hit the half loaded bowl in my little pipe. Officially decided that being high at work is fine by me. Took probably three solid inhales and then mixed myself an ashwagandha-ener-c-ACV tonic and swallowed all of my supplements. Drank my tonic in its entirety while kind of just standing at the kitchen window over the sink, looking out at the big pepper tree in the neighboring backyard. Then I went into the living room and took everything out of my Corto Moltedo bag and took everything out of my India Hicks bag too and spread all of my little things around on the living room floor and sorted through them. Sorted some things into a pile that meant I don’t need to be carrying this thing around right now and sorted other things into a pile that meant I do need to be carrying this thing around right now.
My I don’t need to be carrying this thing around right now pile included:
Three packets of Advil AM
Tiny ceramic dog figurine
Bottle of Dramamine that won’t stop opening on its own and spilling out all over my bag
Three loose tea tree oil toothpicks
Single serving packet of Moon Juice sex dust
Packet of Beekeeper’s Naturals liposomal vitamin c
Empty lighter
Six or seven empty or mostly empty virginia tobacco Juul pods
Post it note REDACTED left for me on my desk five months ago
Flattened piece of Russian chocolate REDACTED gave me the night we did mushrooms. I moved the chocolate out of the I don’t need to be carrying this thing around right now pile into a new pile, a pile that meant what should I do with this, is this item spiritually depleting to keep carrying around, I have no intentions of ever eating it but also it’s all I physically have of him, should I bury it in the backyard and cast a spell on it or something. Ultimately could not decide what to do with it so I placed it on the little wooden table by the front door that holds all kinds of shit I am not sure what to do with (ex boyfriend’s mail, empty Juul pods that I feel the need to hoard for a rainy day, etc)
My I do need to be carrying this thing around right now pile included:
Big brown round sunglasses
The skinny black sunglasses REDACTED gave me yesterday
Pair of blue light glasses
Eye drops
Nail file
White nail pencil
Pink quartz gua sha
White plastic gua sha
Margiela perfume
Malin + Goetz perfume
Wooden comb
Two French hair pins
One black hair tie
Two long metal sectioning clips
Two pairs of gold hoop earrings (one large, one medium)
Tiny bottle of Advil
Two packets of Ener-C (one sugar-free lemon ginger, one sugar-free passionfruit)
Coconut granola macro bar
Wired headphones
Two tiny cross figurines made out of jade
Eight full virginia tobacco Juul pods
Two Juul chargers
Charging brick
Half empty pack of Marlboro 27s
Grey BIC lighter
Tiny pack of matches
Knife
Keys
Four pens of various thicknesses
11:24 a.m.
Typing from the bath. Not taking a bath for hygienic reasons, just kind of wanted to pass some time before I have to be on the way to Santa Monica at noon. Which is only thirty minutes from now all of the sudden. My face looks puffy and red and splotchy and I feel depressed. Less depressed now than I was before those three solid inhales I took from the bowl, but still depressed. Sipping my americano and sipping my vape. In four minutes the episode of Red Scare I have been microdosing for days will end and I will be alone with my thoughts again. God forbid.
11:53 a.m.
Fuck, I spent too long gua sha-ing my puffy face in the bath and now I have to fucking speed through getting out of here and onto the road.
12:46 p.m.
Sitting in my car in the dark underground studio parking lot. It’s so dark and I am so sleepy and I don’t want to be here at all, really. REDACTED is upstairs and REDACTED is upstairs and the dumbass new manager is upstairs too and I am simply not in the mood. At least REDACTED is not upstairs. Three days of no REDACTED. No REDACTED today, neither tomorrow nor the next day. Then, unfortunately, I will have two days of REDACTED in a row. Sunday, Monday. Need to be stoned 24/7 to not feel anything, I think. Want to get this long evening ahead of me over with already so that I can experience the intense psychic freedom of knowing that I have the next two days off. It is going to be so glorious. I am going to organize my closet and edit my diaries, which are a mess and amassing quickly, take several luxuriously lengthed baths, kiss my ex boyfriend and like, get stoned alone and watch movies. Those three inhales I took out of the bowl this morning have disappeared from my system entirely, I think. Which is unfortunate. Also: I want botox.
5:06 p.m.
Lunch break. Sitting in my parked car outside of the Starbucks on Wilshire. Felt lethargic and so I am here to collect three shots of espresso over ice with caramel drizzle and cream. Feeling fucking whimsical, I guess. Why the fuck did I order that? Already regretting it. Fat. Think the caramel drizzle will probably fill me with self loathing. How many calories can caramel drizzle really add, though? Who cares, boring. It’s been a WHO CARES, BORING day. A WHO CARES, BORING week, really. Also picking up a cake pop for REDACTED who has been sitting with me all day. There are hardly any shoots on the schedule and so mostly we have just been sitting side by side in silence, looking at our phones. She convinced me to pick up her Friday shift and so now tomorrow will be my only day off till Tuesday. Jesus Christ. Whatever. Money is good, money is good. More money, more money. Want money, want money. In other more terrible news, the new manager called me into her office. I was worried I was either in trouble or getting my hours cut again, but it turns out she wants me to go represent the studio at a convention in the Inland Empire next weekend. Saturday and Sunday, standing at a fucking booth with, of all people, REDACTED. Like are you actually fucking kidding me. Dreading it so bad. Me and REDACTED, who is now officially REDACTED’S fucking girlfriend, standing together at a fucking booth all day. This is crazy. When REDACTED finds out he is probably going to feel so paranoid. Me and his girlfriend at a booth together in the Inland Empire all day for two days straight. She doesn’t know that he and I slept together. Or at least I don’t think that she knows. I hope she doesn’t know. I am hoping that they break up before he gets the chance to tell her everything. Has he already told her everything? He better not have already told her everything. I told him, basically right after it happened, that if he ever told anybody I would say that he’s lying. God, what the fuck is my life. I don’t want to go to the fucking IE with REDACTED. Like oh my fucking God. She is always so put together and so I am going to have to be so put together. This is terrible, just terrible. But also it’s kind of… whatever. Whatever, whatever, whatever. What choice do I have. Thrilled that my evening is almost over with. Kind of almost over with. Once I get back from my break I will have thirty minutes left till REDACTED leaves. Then just one more shoot at 7 p.m. and once that set wraps I can leave. Lock the doors and turn the lights out and leave. Praying that everything moves quickly, especially since now I only have one day off instead of two. Yesterday did not count as a day off. I spent twelve hours trapped in a car with two people I work with and an eleven year old girl. Jesus. Just want to fucking relax, relax, relax. Please God, let this caramel drizzled espresso over ice fill me with whimsy instead of self hatred.
7:28 p.m.
The last shoot of the night just went on set and now I must sit and twiddle my thumbs for about an hour and a half until it’s all over and done with. And then I will be on my way. Ex boyfriend wants to come over and watch Survivor with me tonight and I said yes but now I am thinking no. Feel exhausted, just want to be alone. I will see him tomorrow. I will call him on the way home and tell him that I am exhausted and that I just want to be alone and that I will see him tomorrow. Need to get stoned and eat sauerkraut alone on the couch and watch the Vanderpump Rules reboot reunion episode.
8:55 p.m.
Time to get the fuck out of here. Thank God. Told ex boyfriend that I am too sleepy to see him tonight and he said that he is too sleepy too and that we can see each other in the morning instead. Feel hungry as fuck. Ate a coconut granola macro bar at like, 2 p.m. and then ate a handful of cashews at like, 5 p.m. and that’s it. Plus, of course, I had that gluttonous caramel drizzled espresso over ice. Whatever.
9:32 p.m.
Made it home in record time, I think. Thought about la panzanella crackers and dijon mustard and cheese and basil sauerkraut throughout the entirety of my drive and now la panzanella crackers and dijon mustard and cheese and basil sauerkraut are laid out on the glass coffee table in front of me. Amazing. Going to gorge myself and drink sparkling water and watch Vanderpump Rules, I think. Want to smoke a bowl but have a strange suspicion that if I smoke a bowl right now I will get paranoid and so I am not going to smoke a bowl even though I really want to.
Thursday