Ministry of Desire and Michael’s birthday

Last night I did something quite unique. I went to a tantric sensuality event. My best friend Kristin is a sex worker. She does what’s called Tantric Massage. I’ve never been entirely sure what that was until tonight. She does a variety of things. I’ve always quite admired her work because it has a special artistic flair with an emphasis on energy, power and intellect. Not just … sex for sex’s sake. In fact, she coaches her clients to move away from that, which is one of the reasons why people hire her. She’s a really beautiful human.

She created a network of other women from what she calls “temple.” I think temple is just basically where super rich dudes go on their lunch break for some R and R. They’ve started having these classy events in downtown Los Angeles.

Kristin just off hand asked me if I wanted to go to a party as her guest on Friday and I said yes, I would absolutely love to. I’m so, so glad she asked me because I had such a blast! It was really, really nice. I don’t shy away from much, and this certainly wasn’t for the faint of heart. But it was really beautiful and classy. Everyone there was really interesting. Sometimes when I’ve been to parties in penthouses, I’ve been bored to tears. When I was modeling, I found myself in many luxurious settings just filled to the brim with the dullest people I’ve ever met, so I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when I walked through the door.

They had demonstrations every hour or so in the middle of the room, where Kristin and her cohorts gave live massages while everyone watched on pillows. I, of course, just watched without engaging. I did give random lady a scalp massage, and that was fun. I just saw her on the table being massaged by someone else and I asked if she’d like one. I miss giving them at the salon, so it was fun to do that for someone. And then there was a massage train and I just massaged Kristin’s back for a while. Nothing crazy, nothing sexual. I wish the world was more open to respectful, loving touch. It’s a real shame that polite society doesn’t allow for just regular old human to human contact. I just love touching other people and being touched, plain and simple. I guess that’s why I’m a hairdresser now that I think about it. Our society is so obsessed with sin, and sinful pleasures, blah blah blah. Touching leads to this which leads to that and all roads point to Hell and eternal damnation. *eye roll* I think we would all suffer a lot less mental pain if we hugged and touched each other more. At one point we were watching a demonstration and there was an older couple to my left in each other’s arms. The lady and I just held hands while we watched the demo and her man held her and rubbed her shoulders, stroked her hair. Then we just said thank you and I got up and walked on to take in the view of the skyline on the patio for a while. Such a beautiful, pure little moment.

Anyhow! Additionally, God, it was just so nice to be around real adults. Real, smart, accomplished, respectful, intelligent, open minded adults.

On that note, it’s Michael’s birthday today. He didn’t want a party, he requested an all day jam session with his band. So they’ve been at it since about 1pm. It’s 10:30 now. I’m very happy for him because it makes him very happy. It’s palpable. He really enjoys it. Unfortunately, the flip side for me is I do not enjoy it. Let me explain.

I come from music. My parents met on the road in the 70s. My dad has a #1 and multiple top 20 billboard cuts. I grew up around industry professionals and spent a lot of time in professional recording studios when I was younger. Those are some of my fondest memories with my father. Beyond that I had a musical career myself. My own band. I’ve been in many other bands. Touring, session work.

My husband, bless him… He doesn’t know what this is like. He thinks that he’s a professional now. He thinks because he’s recorded a handful of people in his garage and had a long term gig as a house band at a small bar in Orange County, that makes him professional. And to be fair, I’m sure he’s not wrong. The problem is I know what top tier professionalism is, and he is not that. His accomplishments, though valid, are not … Look, I’m not shitting on his music, or his recording projects. The problem is I see them for what they are, which is just that: projects.

The people in his band are amateurs. I mean literal amateurs. The bass player is a 30 something year old guy who works at Taco Bell and just started playing bass 6 months ago. The singer is a 20 year old girl who, though tremendously talented, has such deep insecurities and anxiety, it’s difficult to be around for too long before I find my own anxiety and panic is triggered. I mean, this girl trembles, and has one of those extra loud, constant nervous-laughs after every sentence she musters. I had to tell her to calm down just now when I brought the cake out, because Michael suggested they play the song they’ve been working up today and she almost wouldn’t do it.

“Guys, I… I just can’t. I don’t think I can. Guys, I… come on, I can’t do it. I don’t have the juice. I can’t do this live, guys.” It was nauseating. Like, I just wanted to be like, “Dude, look around you. You’re literally in a garage. Shut the fuck up and just sing, and if you don’t have anything, make something up, and if you don’t want to make something up, then don’t. But stop. Just stop. It’s just a jam… in a garage. Get ahold of yourself.” But of course I didn’t, nor would I.

But it’s just really hard. It’s not that I’m judging them, like oh these kids suck. What’s difficult for me is that it reminds me of when I was 15 and in little bands with other kids. And now, I’m 36 years old. There’s something about being around grown adults who still do bong rips and work at Taco Bell that is just so depressing to me. I mean, it’s just so sad. I find it triggering.

I know I’ve talked about this before, but it’s really something that I struggle with. It’s really hard for me to smile and be supportive, when I want to be like… uhh…. it’s okay, I guess? I mean, it would be more than okay if they were kids. But they’re not. They’re adults. If they were kids, I’d be like fuck yes you guys, keep going, you’re doing great. But everyone in there is just soooo insecure. Quite frankly, I find it annoying, dare I say pathetic. I miss being around people who are confident! People who play their unfinished work in progress and look to me with proud assurance, not for reassurance, which is so hard for me to give! Because, like I said, the music isn’t great. The players are bad. The drummer is pathetic–oh god, side note. This guy is so ridiculous. This is the friend who works at a restaurant and is betting all his horses on this band being “successful,” whatever the fuck that means to him. And that would be fine, except he can’t perform. I’ve never, ever, in my 3 years of knowing him, ever seen him get through a song without several fuck-ups. Anyhow, he showed up today and his hair is so long because he’s too fucking lazy to get a haircut. I’ve given him his last two haircuts because I just couldn’t stand it. And I did it at first to be polite, but now I think he’s come to expect it, which isn’t surprising because this same pattern happened with another one of his deadbeat friends, Danny. He showed up today with this absolutely absurd slick-back hair do that is just… it’s hard to look at!

Why don’t people understand that if you want to be respected in this world, you need to take care of yourself. I don’t mean you need to have expensive clothes and a fancy barber haircut every 2 weeks. But for God’s sake man, get a fucking haircut! You look like a clown! Have some respect for yourself! Jesus it’s just… I can’t be around these people. I literally can’t stomach it. It makes me feel bad to be around them. I get no joy. I have to dumb myself down, I have to act impressed at the slightest little effort. I just can’t relate to them in any way. I tried, Lord knows I did. But at the end of the day, being around them makes me feel yucky. Their anxiety becomes my anxiety. Their lack of confidence affects me physically. I choose to be around people who bring me life and energy. People who laugh and don’t take shit. People who go out and do things.

In life, the company that you keep is extremely important. If you hang out with deadbeats, you will become a deadbeat. Even if you aren’t, people will look at the people you associate with, and if you’re associating with lazy grown adults who can’t even bother to get a haircut more than twice a year, who still live with their parents and work at Taco Bell, I mean… You just have to do better. You have to.

I prefer to hang out with confident, driven, ambitious, successful, honest, cultured people. I’m not at all without compassion for people who are struggling. I’m well acquainted with struggle. But I have little sympathy for those who just don’t try. The time for associating with people who don’t value themselves, work at Taco Bell (Not for lack of work either! this guy has a Master’s degree! He just won’t get a decent job. It’s literally his choice. How sad is that!) The time for that is over. The time for that is in your late teens to early 20s. So it’s hard for me to not look at Michael and just be disappointed he chooses to associate with people like this. Like, this isn’t just his band. These are his people. He talks to them in a group chat all day long every day. And I really, really hate feeling this way. I really hate it. I want to be proud of him. By most accounts I am proud of him! But the fact that he chooses to do this for 10 hours while I watch the baby, it makes me sad.

If it was just a hobby, if he and his friends were just having fun and getting their kicks, I could respect that. But they’re super “serious”. I put quotations around it because they have no idea what being in a serious band and being a serious musician even looks like, so the fact that they’re acting like they’re taking this so seriously is hard to stomach.

Sometimes I can’t tell if venting about this is helpful or not. I don’t know if I’m reinforcing a negative thought pattern. The PTSD book I read though encouraged verbal ventilation to deal with emotions, particularly negative emotions. That stuffing them down and acting like they’re not there is not healthy, as the body retains these truths. So I release them here. It does help tremendously, and I feel super relieved afterwards, even though I also feel guilty. It’s hard to allow myself to be aware that I have negative feelings in this way. I feel like I’m doing something wrong. That’s part of my childhood programming. I know that it’s not hurting anyone, and in fact it’s helpful because I don’t feel like a valve ready to burst when I go back and visit for a few minutes with them all. I wish I could be a perfect person with only lovely, happy kind thoughts 100% of the time, but I know that’s not fair and it’s not real.