But it's true.
Well, I just had a message from him. He still wants me, but he's a narcissist and I don't want him any more. He's just too complex a prospect and I never relied on him for judgement, not really.
There's the dual rejection: Little Bird and MMcD, or theatre in general. And the fact that I'm rubbish at my job, despite having all the tools that should make me good. But no, I just loll about being crap; this is entirely under my control. I can't fathom how I am shit, but I must be doing the 'wind up' thing that AG and MC keep talking about- they say other people do it, but I must be doing it too or else the kids wouldn't respond to me the way they do.
And then MMcD. Alright, the rejection by amateur dramatics hurts; smarts more than I could know- but by her, it smarts more because though I can rationalise it (she's mean and nasty, she likes to draw people in and then knock them down, she's not that brilliant an actress) I know that she is an excellent director- she directs me well, and I would dearly have loved to be in a play with her directing. The other thing that kills me is the way she rejected me; she didn't just come out and say it, she felt she had to smother it with her wincing tone and say, 'this other girl looked so much like him, that's all, I thought you read really well'- when anyone with half a brain would have been able to see that I was six kinds of shit on the day- I was hungover and tired as hell. 'Keep trying, so and so directs too, you read really well'.
For god's sake. If I'd read that fucking well, you'd have cast me, so don't be trying to paper over the cracks. I was shit, and that's all there is. I'm strong enough to take that, you don't have to lie to me about my ineptitude that I'm all too aware of. It just makes me feel like an utter loser to have been rejected in such a patronising way. She is generally patronising- when she found out what I did for a living she said, "oh, good for you". I know what I'll say to her if she mentions it again- 'oh well, it's only amateur dramatics- something else'll come along". The other thing that irritates me is this thing about 'shapes'. She said that it was the 'shape' of the family she was looking for- but I know full well she means body shapes. And I ain't it. I bet she's cast some bloody sylph.
Everywhere that I've interned for, and countless others that have just ignored me, slough me off. There goes another one; she's shit, who cares, another one into the pot, off into the ether, that we've used and that's it. Fucking cunts.
Then there's Little Bird. At a time when I could really use someone to put my head against and just be soothed, there's noone. I learnt long ago to self-solace, but it's just been the worst time for anything to happen; just when I'm feeling like everything else is collapsing round my ears, she goes too and holds out something that could happen (and it does, inebriated and brief on a public lawn) and then says
no
that isn't what I meant at all
no regrets but
and it wasn't as if it could have worked out anyway; we've been friends for too long, she lives hours and hours away. I don't even know that I've liked her that way for a while, but then I did once we'd been together. It's just that now I could really use someone soft and kind that would listen and let me read books and watch crap TV quietly with them whilst stroking my hair. I don't want a lot.
And worse, it's mon anniversaire next week. The day I loathe and detest; another year, an inch closer to la grande morte and I'm still here, not out on my own, still working this job that I want to be good at but I'm not, still being crap at theatre, still written nothing worthwhile because I'm pouring all my creative juice into this at night. This vitriolic little epistle to myself. Ugh. Turn a new page, I'm just having a crap time at the moment. It's all momentary. I'll self-medicate with walking and cigarettes.
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