A Passage From My New Book!
I’ve been working away on a new book for the past 6 months. It’s titled “The Imperfections of James & Kate” and it’s DONE! Much more work to do though, and this book is just being born into the editting world, I wanted to share a little un-editted passage with you, just to get you excited. This is not a memoir, or a true story, but I think you will many pieces of me (and hopefully some of you within it) xx
“There are all types of genetic DNA that go along with being a female, for so long I felt like I was the only girl on the planet who was build entirely of sensitive, easily hurt feelings, and brain cells, that were set to make terrible choices against even the most collected inner monologue of logical thoughts. But, when I finally arrived in New York City and began my life as a professional intern to the auditioning process of show business, I realized that New York was not where pretty girls from across the planet went to walk on glittery sidewalks and to become small town newspapers front page stories, it was where girls went to huddle in rooms with a equal number of mirrors to insecurities. It was where peoples bright hopeful eyes came to dim and where big dreamers hearts came to be riddled by the destruction of it all. For me, It was where my worst fears came to the surface to realize the worst truth that could ever be.
I just wasn’t that special after all.
The realization that I wasn’t special was not a surprise. I’m not sure why I believed it could be true. After years of growing up and being treated like a castwaway on an island, or an invisible human, to which my mother and fathers only response was “people in this town are so silly, they just cannot see how special you are…” and so I thought, again totally unrationally,…well, if it’s this town that doesn’t see my special, maybe a city famous for turning the freaks and the beasts into shiny gleaming stars would see my special, and maybe once the city did, I would too.
Only that’s not what happened, everyday I would wake up and all the most beautiful parts of of the things I actually liked about myself, would become less and less. I would feel this incredibly heavy nameless weight place itself on every inch of me. My legs were heavier, my thoughts even more so. I walked along the streets, the subways, looking into every single persons eyes waiting for the moment when they would realize that they were standing next to someone who was special. They never did.
So I started chasing things. I chased beauty, the outer kind, where no matter how much you get or how much you dye your hair you never actually become any more beautiful. I chased notoriety by becoming famous for doing things like flashing my boobs at a rock show, yelling stories at strangers and puking in my shoes at parties. I started chasing love. Of course, I had no idea what love was. I figured it was something like, you convinced someone that you were desirable and then you spent every waking moment trying to make sure that they didn’t see through your skin to the truth. I would be careless and set alarms for when I was allowed to respond to my loves late night messages. I would say, “I don’t care,” when every part of me, cared.
I shared a fire escape with a nameless man. We had never met in real life. His window that sat directly across the fire escape from my own, was closed tight. I knew two things about this man. He constantly smoked pot and had painted the walls of his room black. Tonight, he was not home. I was home. Listening to Ryan Adams, was staring at the wall, and the window, and his black wall.
I got up from my bed. I opened the window. I squeezed myself through my window and placed my bare feet on the cold black metal of the fire escape. New York City asaulted me with the regular sounds of city living, people, cars, honking horns and in the distance a ambulance alarm. A city full of people. 12 million people. People who I was convinced didn’t have brains that worked like mine, people who were content to run around Manhattan trying to get into the next best place to be seen, or we equally as content to eat mashed potatoes and never wish for anything but mash potatoes and cable tv. I was neither of those people. I wanted everything. I wanted nothing. I deserved it. I deserved nothing.
The air was sharp and it invaded my lungs, and threatened to make me go back inside. It was the middle of winter. The middle of huge jackets, and snow boots and never being able to get a cab. It was the time of the year I spent a good chunk of my day seeing my breath as I waited for the next 2 train to take me down to whatever audition I was going to go to in order to be rejected yet again. Rejected for being to much like myself. Rejected and existing in the world that screams at us to “be yourself” but doesn’t want you when you are.
The sky was perfectly clear, and the stars and the moon and the planes flying overhead were closer than they seemed. I was a tiny micro-being in a giant vast universe and I hated it. I wanted to be something. I fought to be something. I was stardust and dinosaur remains. I was meaningless.”