Monday, September 27, 2004


cry me a river.

i woke up anxious all night. of all things, i think it was about babies.

i don't know what my damage is about babies. i don't want to have one right now, or, really, within the next five years. i do want to have one, though, and i want pretty badly to believe that talking the talk and walking the walk about how my art feeds me doesn't rule me out from the pleasures of a real family life.

funny words, i guess, from someone who left Liveable City to come to Urine Central in hopes that this theatre business could pay the bills. sometimes i have no idea what i'm doing.

and i hate that i'm alone on this one. the monkey doesn't hate babies, and i don't think he's against having one, per se--i asked him about it pretty far back at the beginning--but i think he'd have to be pressured into changing his life in order to have one, and pressuring someone like that is gross. he's always very, very clear about how the acting comes first. and what i hate is that we can't even talk about how we might go about having a more stable life without him putting on his defensive guard jersey, as if i would somehow try to weasel and guilt him into leaving his dream in the ditch and becoming a web-designer.

maybe what i wanted all along was someone who could want a baby, too, so that i could be the one who got to say, gee, i don't know, what will this do to my carefree artist lifestyle? and then i'd be reassured, and someone would tell me that it's possible, if difficult, and that i could hang up my worry because when we both want something, it becomes what the future's about.


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