surrender

clarification

i have to clarify - the charts below were done as part of a group therapy assignment to write the story of your life, and mine resulted in a number of these things below, and ended in an illustrator chart [that's not up because it won't upload properly]. i approached the problem with dread, thinking it would be boring, and also because i was always afraid to confront the past. It actually turned out to be pretty powerful, trying to look at where you've come from, and map it out, and see what patterns emerge.

and it's part of this therapy which goes into the emotional, and that, together with the cognitive behavioral stuff, seems to be helping. but there's no doubt it's scary, because you don't know where it's going to take you...

separation

still such a challenge. how can i hate that part of them without losing all of them?

story of my life first draft

pop psych

p - i was thinking about something that sort of related to what you were talking about re. information overload.
coming from my recent looking at popular psychology [because Joan [Lady] keeps giving me things to look at that may have been popular in the 80's or 90's; and at the same time i've been reading things which were more fashionable in the 40's and 50's; and when i look them all up in wikip; they're often dismissed, or they say that people don't talk about these people any more; so my initial reaction is to dismiss; but then i have to remember that 'unfashionable' doesn't necessarily mean bad. and that this field is so nuanced and that even though it's true that some things fall out of fashion because they're truly not effective, or they're really horrible [lobotomies and those regression things from the 80s'], but some fall out of fashion because they lose a charismatic figurehead; or they simply morph into other forms. And then i was trying to think about what's popular now, and without doing any research i thought it might be that 'GTD' movement [remember - 'getting things done'? which comes out of , i think, getting organized in an environment of information overload, but it's imbued with life philosophy, and it's coming from the computer geek world - it's like the equivalent of ' 7 habits of highly successful people' books.


and re. the psychology, there seems to be a really really fine line between the therapists who can transform, and the crackpots.

the cockroach in the chair

and we need to get back to the bigger question you were asking tonight, of why the cockroach? the cockroach wants to hide, wants protection and the dark. but how did it become a cockroach in the first place? how do you go from shy, sensitive, introspective to feelings of being abject, repulsive, grotesque, ugly inadequate? that's a huge jump. where the hell did that come from? tell me.

Okay sweetie, you have to get this over with. You're obsessing about J. again, which is okay, it's going to happen every now and again, because you tend towards obsessive thoughts. And you’re going to have to continue to work away from that thinking. But i'm not going to let you keep going down there. You can't continue to obsess about and idealize something that isn't. It's pointless, and it's destructive.

But neither can we just sweep this under the rug. We're going to have to work through it. We’ll start with what we know. No doubt there were hidden parts of him and about the relationship that i didn't know, but there was a lot that i did know. I know that he was a good man, and that he made real efforts towards this. I know he was generous and had a good moral and ethical sensibility, and good values. He was whip smart, funny, he had eclectic and great taste. He reveled in my tastes and eccentricities. He was an independent thinker, disciplined, and creative [for a lawyer]. He had really interesting ideas. He was hot.

I also know he had strong misanthropic tendencies. He could be an asshole, [but i could call him on it, and he'd apologize]. Huge control issues [mostly with over himself], argumentative [fucking lawyer], stubborn, disciplined [see 'control issues']. No problem with the above. Everyone has baggage, and some of this i actually found endearing.

But sweetie, you know that there were bigger problems. You know there was always a feeling in the pit of your stomach that this could go either way. You know that his guardedness and isolation and the last minute cancellations were becoming systematic and steadily undermining the times that were intimate and shared and good. And you know, for some time, that it was becoming untenable,. And when you did find a sliver of an opportunity to confront these things with him, you know couldn’t call those moments ‘conversations’. You never got an answer. And you know that you couldn't continue like that honey. You know it was killing you. And this is months before he vanished. You know that you were rehearsing conversations and questions that you were afraid that you'd never get a chance to ask, but that were necessary to talk about. And you know he probably felt this coming, and that he couldn't continue the evasiveness. So the gaps became wider. You understood that you needed to be in a relationship that was a part of the world and not confined to you and him and miami beach and your apartment. You couldn’t be dragged into his sickness. You know that. And don't forget, ther'es something severely wrong, for someone with the qualities that he had, to behave so severely. So suddenly and in such an extreme manner. There is something larger at work with him, either external, but more likely, internal, which is beyond your control.

What confounded and gave hope was that he did make efforts at change. And he had made changes in his life. He had a cool relationship with his family, and a not-good relationship with his mother [a bad sign]; but he had reconciled and was on good terms with his father. He did make efforts and big strides in his communication with you. And he seemed to enjoy your company. Hell, of course he did. He said he did, and you know he did. He wanted to be in a relationship. He expressed this, he made efforts, there was no doubt about it. You’re not insane to think so. And it was a relationship, however ambiguously defined it, or rather, the course it was to take, was.

And that's what makes this so difficult. That his efforts, they weren’t enough. And that in the end his personal undertow was stronger, and that you were powerless to do anything. You couldn’t help him. And this is a waste.

So it's okay, honey, you can let it all out. Because in losing all the not-good in him, you also have to let go of the good that he came with. And you're human and it's not easy to let go of things that are good, and it's not easy to let go of bonds. So there’s nothing wrong with crying. Just let it all out. It is sad. It is painful. But honey, if he can't or won't get help; it can't be helped.

And don't forget how much good came out of this, sweetie. You opened yourself to all these feelings and you know what you're capable of. You now have a better understanding of what you want and need from a relationship. And even more importantly, you know that you can do it, and that you deserve it. You know that a challenging stimulating and warm relationship is something that you’re totally capable of, and that you do deserve to be loved by someone that you care for. Those are tremendous strides! You couldn't believe that to be true even a few years ago. And sweetie, those things you can't learn on your own, you need to be in relationship to understand. Think of how much you’ve gained from this. So much.

outside looking in

taking my pulse now, I feel myself moving outside – holding on to jeff, and to all the good things about him, all the great things, and dismissing the major dysfunctional component which I don’t want to see, because it throws all the rest away. but it’s that one component, that is the critical part. without that part working, nothing will work, so it’s pointless to obsess over it. acknowledge, yes, that it's a tragic horrible waste, but don’t live there. nothing can live there.

then reading the paper and falling prey to the published images of ‘successful’ attractive couples with their children – families living some 'dream', and me comparing myself. feeling left out. that’s what i'm going to call “outside looking in” thinking. not being part of the show but watching it and then grieving that I’m not part of it. but what about the opposite? or what about re-framing? that if these people are doing it, people are doing these things everyday, [they’re up on the water skis], why can’t I?

We need to get back inside. No outside looking in. Get back into the process.

M.F.A. v. O.M.A.

the two poles or paths that keep coming up. the one, and then the other, as well as its variation, back and forth, on and off.

thankfully p brings it back to earth, and says that 1.) i’ve been invoking those two ideas for years [which is embarrassingly true] and 2) so what do they represent? what do these things mean to me? maybe they represent two forms of fulfillment; the embodiment of two aspects of the same desire?– one as a way to practice architecture (MFA), the other as a way to practice art (OMA). and no, the flipping of the two is not a mistake.

more to explore here, but, the persistence of these two things – again – twenty years later and they still have resonance. what does that mean? and what do i do about it?

the part of the phone conversation with p where he's helping me figure out how you go about your business in presenting yourself without giving the

slightest hint of crisis.

the part of the phone conversation with eran where i'm trying to address my crisis without going into it

last night to p

my reflex would be to ask if i'm pathetic. whether you think i'm pathetic. and that's another hole, the one i've dug myself. and here is where i tell myself that it doesn't matter what you think. and that i have to trust you, and you have to trust me. that i'm getting somewhere with this.

funeral home

now i'm just heading directly towards crazy, and i have to be stopped. i'm not only mourning and wallowing in all my past losses, but what's fucking retarded is this mourning of anticipated and future losses, before i've lost anything. when the fuck did i become a mortuary? enough of this shit. really.

holes

I’ve said I’ll come out of this stronger. I really believed it. But now I’m having my doubts. What if I sink deeper? I’m fighting and fighting, but maybe I’m trying to do too much alone? Maybe I’m not fighting hard enough. Maybe it’s as simple as being with people. As simple as going out and switching to a normal day job right now. Like in the next two weeks. It doesn’t even matter what. I suppose I’m supposed to be strategic at this age, with all the waste that’s already been perpetuated, but I can’t wait around to make the ‘right’ move. And classes don’t start for another two months. I look at a typical day here, and think, holy shit. I’ve really isolated myself.

I’m in this place and I have to work really hard to attempt connection, and it doesn’t seem to be happening. Not really. I work at getting out and making friends, and I’ve met a few nice people – and giselle is strong; but there’s something missing too. I can’t stop trying, I know I could be trying harder, but at what point is there supposed to be a payoff? And at what point is it just no fucking good? I think that’s what makes that loss with J so hard, because, even with that borderline’s idiosyncracies and flaws there was connection there, on many levels – or maybe I’m fooling myself on that too? I just know that it felt good. It felt good having someone in the other room while I read in another, it felt good to be challenged and to challenge, it felt good to explore the city and make it ours. Maybe his disappearance reveals that there’s nothing here for me.

I’m so embarrassed to keep writing about him, but it’s bigger than about him and his absence. there's no doubt that his vanishing left a vacuum, but I think his presence may have allowed prolonged avoidance of other issues. I think his being there just masked this larger hole that was there all along. And with him suddenly gone, here it is, black and deep and in my face.

So i have this fucking hole, and i don't know what i'm supposed to do with it.
do you fill it up? with meaning you construct? or is that the same as covering it up? or do you just let it be and go about your business, just marking the location so you don't fall in? or do it gets smaller and less forbidding over time? staring down into it sure as hell doesn’t seem to be helping. Or maybe that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. maybe you have to stare it down until you stop crying. Or until you just accept it.

but everybody else has holes. what are they doing with theirs?

questionnaire

this is an exercise for those of you who know me, in getting feedback and dialogue on what my next steps for work might be. i found it on a gay lawyer's blog from which i've directly lifted the questions, for now.

i don't know if this idea is good or bad for me, but if it has some merit, i'll revise and tailor it to make some conclusive use of it. of course, i can answer these questions for myself, but i was curious what people who know me have to say. it's put in this format so as to solicit direct and constructive response. there's nothing wrong with stating what my limitations or weaknesses are because everyone has them - they don't make me a stupid or rotten person. listing them simply helps me to focus on which of those issues can be improved, and which of those are perhaps a mismatch and from which i should redirect my energies:

* What are three things I do really well?
* What are three things I don’t do so well?
* Based on what you know about me, what job or experience have I liked the best in the past?
* Based on what you know about me, what job or experience have I liked the least?
* What are three things you can imagine me doing?
* What’s something you can’t really imagine me doing?
* How do I get in my own way?

if these questions help, i'll expand on them to include more specific ones relevant to particular choices i've been mulling over; or to make certain i'm not idealizing a new direction. the point is that i stop isolating myself in all these different aspects of my life. the point is to open myself up for discussion, as well as to expose myself to people to think whatever they're going to think about me and for me to get over it.

istanbul by schjeldahl

he goes in for the show, but ditches it for istanbul's layered city

[it's also a concise story of the art biennial form, [as opposed to the super-money art fairs]], and i love how he describes the one work in the show that impressed him: "The piece is an immense minaret, in cast aluminum, that is propped on a steel framework in the attitude of a Scud-like missile. I’m not sure what it says, but it scared me."

how do you get to do this?

i'd love to work with kids like these.
look at their cnc page, under 'information' is a simple summary of the technology.

raining still

went to a talk by ellen lupton, who was thoroughly charming and funny, with M who told me over dinner that she almost became a nun - twice - but couldn't deal with the blind obedience and bathroom sharing.

something saved

this is the house where my mother's uncle lived in kfar vitkin.
it's one of the few photos that was on a camera whose images i was able to download before it was stolen.
most everything else was on the iphone that's gone.

12:12

godammit. Am I ever going to stop missing him? Am I ever going to stop being haunted? I’ve been calling the end of J. a ‘breakup’ just to use a conventional term. But it’s really a ‘vanishing’.

I can’t even be angry about it. Or I’m past that. I was treated appallingly towards that end, but it had nothing to do with me, and it’s something I’ll probably never understand. I mean, how do you completely sever from someone from whom the last time you were with it was in their arms, like a baby. Or from whom the last time you called was with such pleasure and ease [this was a huge step for him].
How does it happen that a week later I'm talking to a different person? I call, he picks up, and in a tense voice says he’s in the middle of a disaster work crisis and will call back in a minute, but he never calls back. Ever. In one week. After seven months of getting closer to a person. I will never, ever, understand that. And i squirm at how I let myself bleed, in phone calls, in emails, with no response, while i was trying to grasp what was happening. But of course I'm not sorry for any of it.

And then there are the obsessive drive-bys of his house I've been doing. At first they were comforting, like being close to him, and then just obsessive; and now maybe less frequent and obsessive, but more of a curiosity or game, to see if anything changes. Because, for the past month and a half, NOTHING has changed and no one is home. His car is there, parked in the same fucking spot, in the same position; even at hours when it shouldn’t be there, it hasn’t fucking moved, and obviously no one is home, even though the car is. Recently I go back just to see if anything has changed, if the car is gone, or if another one has come, if the shutters have been opened, or if a light is on. I have to stop this, really, but I let myself indulge. Now I just want to see that car move or I want to see it gone. I want to see a sign of life or change.

All I do know is that he struggles with something he can’t control or navigate.
And I know that he’s extraordinarily disciplined and guarded and in need of control. And that he has the constitution and ability to shut off and cut out, mercilessly, those things that cause him pain, or disturb him – at whatever cost to himself or others. This I’ve known. This is how I know I’ll never see him again.

And I’m missing him even more in this land of idiots with no sense of humor, that I find myself in.
But you know, there have been some very good things to come out of this miami misadventure – though, they won’t add to up to shit if I don’t start putting together the things I’ve learned here.

And how many shining people do I need, really? Just a few, even if we’re surrounded by our idiot kingdoms – giselle at the school, and me with the group, and paul, even if it’s just for one evening, in the atrium.
Here we are.

group

I drove home last night so upset and disappointed with the group therapy.
So much so that I took about three wrong exits – which alone is alarming.
I went into it very positively, especially after reading Yalom’s book, and came away completely questioning the authority and judgement of the therapist. And also of the group. If group is supposed to be a social microcosm where you test out your behavior, then does the superficiality and dumbness of it reflect the world in which I’m doing it [Miami?]. Is all group therapy doomed to be stupid and unchallenging here?

The real stuff happened out in the parking lot, where I approached this woman in the group who was being ignored for some reason that evening. She’s the only one, that I can see, who has a high level of awareness and understanding of her condition and is on mark with articulating her feelings, and in responding to others. I’m most sympathetic to her, and I was disturbed by how her issue was constantly sidestepped by the therapist, and wanted to know if there was something she wanted to say.
In short, her issue was quite important, a traumatic event that had happened the week before, that should have been discussed, especially in light of all the dumb chitchat and extraneous items that ensued, apparently with no control, under a therapist who couldn’t or wouldn’t rein in the superficial.
And then all these questions came up - about why D. was ignored 3,4 times? does the therapist feel in competition with D? is it because she’s no longer coming in for private therapy? Is it because the traumatic incident is related to something the therapist has an interest in only speaking positively about?

For me, the real value of this kind of therapy would be to express my disappointment, what specifically I found problematic, and what I want to be getting out of it. The real test for me would be whether I could challenge the group, directly and critically, not be afraid to be crashing the party of a limp and bland group of cheerleaders, which may even include the therapist. But these are not the brightest or strongest people, as far as I can tell. How would they take it? And there’s the therapist and her ego. It could completely blow up in my face. Fuck them. This is my time and money. It’s all of our time and money, we all may as well get something out of it.

11:15

p thank you for being there yesterday, for being there all along.

it's strange how our emotional world has a life of it's own, how each day is different and you can't predict what will emerge from that place; for instance today is another difficult one - this one brought about just because i miss him - profoundly - i miss what he meant to me and the feeling of intimacy, and of what was good in him;
and i'm so sad that he'll never be a part of my life, ever; and that he never trusted me enough to share the pain/difficulty that i could see he was struggling with
.
but one thing i have learned is that it is possible to navigate that emotional world, with your actions and your thoughts,
and that it's such a complex choreography of both willing things and letting go