Excerpts from a pandemic journal

February 18, 2021 to March 01, 2021

Thursday, February 18, 2021

Los Angeles, CA

I took myself on my first Artist Date yesterday. Huntington Gardens was nice, but it’s one of those places that would be more fun with somebody else. I don’t want to walk through the rose garden and make fun of all the rose names to myself. I want someone to make fun of them with me.

I think I may be going deaf in my left ear. Maybe I’ve gotten used to deafness because I don’t notice it until I’m talking to someone. I need to write and post on Medium. I can’t wait to work again. I love the Pandemic, but it’s not as fun as I thought. I can’t go around buying $28 candles that smell like tomatoes without an income to support it!

Friday, February 19, 2021

Los Angeles, CA

I went to bed late last night, I stayed up late watching lesbian TikToks. I think I now follow every lesbian in the world. I love TikTok. I can’t believe it’s almost the end of the month. I wish it was a leap year, I feel short-changed when February only has 28 days.

It’s almost Spring. I hear a bird really close to me, I think he’s on the powerline. I love Spring.

There’s some other Lauren Reeves who writes gospel. I hope people know she’s not me. She’s the one who bought laurenreeves.com. I guess she’s savvier than I am, but still, go preach your prayer stuff under a different name please, this one’s taken. I should snag her domain from her somehow when she’s not looking. I don’t know how that works. I also need to remember I bought and paid for Kamala is the Bombala dot com. I need to figure out what I’m going to do with it.

Saturday, February 20, 2021

Los Angeles, CA

I have three neighbors I hate, and the common denominator is they're all men, and they live too close to me. Women are better than men in every way.

I’ll finish reading The Artist’s Way, hopefully by the end of this weekend. I love writing my morning pages. My mind feels like it’s been cracked open, and my pen just goes with the flow. It's like the Hoover Dam was broken in my head, and all the thoughts are gushing out, but now I have a place to put them, right here on the paper.

Sunday February 21,2021

Los Angeles, CA

My neighbor Sharon commented, “You’re shrinking!” And it’s true; I almost feel two-dimensional. Since I started writing my morning pages, I’ve lost so much weight without changing anything. Did I just solve obesity? Turns out losing weight has nothing to do with food or exercise, all you have to do is write. God I’m a genius. I should go on the Today Show and tell everybody.

I was talking to a girl on Hinge last night; she seemed funny. Maybe we’ll go on a date this week? I leave for Joshua Tree on Thursday. I feel myself moving; like a shift in my energy that’s causing momentum. The words come down from thin air through my brain, but before I can process or think, they get put down on paper through my hand. I don’t even know what I’m writing half the time. No, all the time.

I’m doing what I need to do to prepare for what’s coming next. What is coming next, I wonder. I know it’s happening. I can sense it, but what is it? I know it involves a lot of money. Hundreds of thousands of dollars? Millions? Enough to buy a house in Silver Lake. Is it from a book deal? Did someone die?

I wonder if I should bring my rollerskates to Joshua Tree. I think I should. I could probably get a great picture of myself skating through the park, especially if I tie a rope to the back of my car and have Kirsten drive it while I get pulled behind on my rollerskates. Okay, yes, I’ll do it. I need to bring books with me to Joshua Tree. Reading more will make me a better writer.

Monday February 22, 2021

Los Angeles, CA

I woke up in a bad mood for some reason, and now I feel like I’m struggling not to fall into a deep depression. I drank a bottle of wine last night. That probably has something to do with it. I won’t drink the rest of the week until I get to Joshua Tree. Maybe I’ll buy a bottle of Mezcal to bring with me. I’m supposed to get rid of five pieces of clothes from my closet this week. I really need to get rid of stuff so I can make way for new energy. I should meditate; I keep forgetting, and I was doing so well. I need a reset.

Tuesday February 23, 2021

Los Angeles, CA

I woke up thinking it was Sunday; it’s Tuesday. I like writing with pens that just flow. Writing shouldn’t be a struggle or feel like a workout. I want to write with zero resistance. I love pens. It makes me sad when they run out of ink, but when you write this much, they have a short lifespan, and they’ve lived their purpose.

Spring is coming. March is my favorite month in Los Angeles. I should watch the humpback whales migrating in Malibu and ask the Universe for a pair of binoculars to see them better.

This last year does feel like a waste, though; I can’t believe I haven’t worked in a year. How are people surviving? I need to apply to the new Jon Stewart show. Part of me wants it, part of me doesn’t, part of me is just bored and needs a reason to live. But if the Universe brings me back to New York then I’m not going to fight it. I’m listening to my dumb fuck neighbor talk on the phone, I sure won’t miss that!

One of the girls I’m talking to on Hinge asked me to Facetime. I hate it, but I was enthusiastic, like, “Yeah! Let’s do it!” even though it’s my least favorite thing.

I gave Randy a book on cocktails. I should be a book lady. What exactly does that mean? Like every time I see a friend, I should bring them a book? That would be cool.

I love talking. I think that’s something missing from my life. I don’t have anyone to truly talk to at the end of the day, even my silliest ideas. If I don’t talk about my ideas, or tell my stories, they’ll die. I’m a conversationalist—a humorist. I’m quick-witted, fun, funny, irreverent. What does that word mean? The only person I talk to before bed is Perci, and he only understands like five words in English.

God, I wish my neighbor would shut the fuck up. My god I hate him, I actually wouldn’t mind if he dropped dead. I remember when I tweeted that I wished he’d fall off his balcony, and then he disappeared for a month and came back in a wheelchair. Now that shit was hilarious. He’s always walking in the bike lane and never walks on the sidewalk. I’ve fantasized about hitting him with my car. Like, oops. That’s how much I hate him. A horrible, wretched man. I need to get my eyelashes done. I can’t believe it’s been a year since the world shut down—permanent eyelashes, one of life’s simple pleasures. You don’t appreciate them until you get hit with a global pandemic.

I spend so much money a month, and I’m not really sure on what. My car lease is up this year. I wonder what my next car will be? Another Audi? My credit score is excellent. I’m excited to write; now if only I could wake up in a good mood, knowing which day it is.

Wednesday, February 24, 2021

Los Angeles, CA

I’m not sure what’s wrong with me this week. My mind is racing with thousands of thoughts per second. Most of my thoughts are negative, and I’m also obsessed with New York now. I applied to be a Producer on Jon Stewart’s new show, along with everyone else. If I get it, I’ll have to live in Manhattan. I can only live on Bank, Charles, Perry, or West 11th between West 4th and Bleeker. I miss my life in the West Village. Living in a brownstone with tree-lined streets as soon as you step outside is the dream. Going to Equinox in the morning, followed by coffee at Grounded. Sitting outside drinking coffee as Peter Dinklage walks his dog and people in the neighborhood pass by. I’ll be able to wear coats again.

I still feel like I’m in the beginning stages of something and I’m gaining momentum. I keep doing my Peloton and am drenched in sweat afterwards. My body is starting to change too. It’s stronger, leaner, the fat on my legs is disappearing. I looked at my legs this morning and could tell a difference. My thighs are sleeker, the muscle is pulled up if that makes any sense. I’m a shape-shifter.

Last night I kept having nightmares about being chased through the woods by a giant beaver but he was dressed like Smoky the Bear and I was trying to run away from him but I was wearing steel boots.

Perci kept going from the bed to the living room. I don’t think he could get comfortable. I need to pack for Joshua Tree and remember to bring my roller skates.

What if I came up with the idea for a satirical newspaper called “MAGA-zine” and writers can contribute articles as if they’re written for Trumpers, but they’re too stupid to know it would be a magazine making fun of them. It would include letters to the editor, fake ads, articles like “Ten things I did this week to destroy the libs.” That’s a hilarious idea; I wish I had thought of it literally four years ago.

I love the energy of New York in the morning. I was so stylish there. I need to be stylish again. It’s always who I’ve been. I used to put on fashion shows at the gold dredge, I’d wear twelve different outfits a day. The Pandemic forced me to wear sweatpants. I wonder if lipstick sales have gone down now that everyone has to wear a mask. I love fashion and clothes and jewelry. I’ve lost that part of myself in LA, but she’s coming back.

I need to finish The Artists Way. There’s a full moon this Friday, so I’ll charge my crystals and water underneath it. I need to meditate, my brain's still racing.

Thursday February 25, 2021

Los Angeles, CA

My body is insane. I have lost five pounds since yesterday. For lunch, I had half an avocado, toast, and a bird in the nest, and then leftover Kale salad and the other half of the avocado for dinner.

So, good news. I had that Zoom date last night with the Physicist, and I thought it started really badly, but then somewhere along the way, it started to get much better. We had a lot in common as far as what we watch and listen to. We talked about the Criminal podcast. I did my best Phoebe Judge impression. We talked about the Cecil Hotel documentary. I told her how great the show Love Fraud is. She said she was going to watch it that night since she has insomnia.

She doesn’t have social media. No instagram or twitter. She bought an Oregon Trail pin on Etsy the other week, and I showed her my book. We ended up talking for two hours. When we hung up I facetimed Cynthia and told her all about it. We laughed, and I finished my wine. I got a text from Ashley saying she liked talking to me. I said same here, you’re pretty cool for a science person. So today I’ll text her again, I guess asking about what she thought of Love Fraud.

I’m actually excited about her. She’s in Chicago right now, and she’ll be there for a few more weeks at least. That’s fun. It sounds like we’ll text for now.

I’m going to Joshua Tree today, and I need to ride my Peloton before I get out there. I also need to pack. I wasn’t planning on being on Facetime until eleven at night, but that‘s what happens. Ash (Ashley?) went through an Animal Crossing addiction during the Pandemic, the same as I did. I have spent an embarrassing amount of time playing that game. I also love the Sims.

Now that my writing is flowing more easily, I just need to try to write all the time.  It’s so nice doing the morning pages. It cleans up my mind. It gets all the crap out of my head that makes me unable to concentrate, I wish I’d been doing this since quarantine started. There’s a lot I would do differently, but I can’t get into a time machine and redo it. At least, not yet.

I feel like I’m on the cusp of something big. I can sense it in the air.

I wonder if I can read and watch TV at the same time.

I’m feeling the momentum of the Universe; momentum for the first time after years of feeling stagnant from the lawsuit.

I wonder if Ashley Googled me. I wonder if she looked me up before we talked. She said she doesn’t Google people, but I wonder how true that is. It was fun talking to her once the conversations started picking up. I’ll have to tell my therapist about all of this.

Friday February 26, 2021

Joshua Tree, CA

I slept poorly last night. It’s like I was awake but dreaming for several hours. I also went to bed early, maybe around ten pm. In my dream state, I kept visualizing my life in New York, specifically in the West Village. It didn’t look so bad living there. I was dressed in long, fancy coats. My hair and makeup were flawless. I even rode my Peloton in my dream. And Ashley was there with her dog, who was Perci’s new best friend. It felt so lifelike. We’d grab a cocktail nearby at a bar in a restaurant on West Fourth Street, like Extra Virgin. We had lots of money. It felt real, like a preview of what’s to come.

We’ve been texting about true crime TV shows for her to watch. Is there something off about her? I can’t tell. But she doesn’t have social media, which is actually kind of cool. I wonder about her living situation. Does she actually live in Los Angeles? Like, does she have an actual apartment here? How long is she in Chicago for? Where was she before Chicago? Why does her phone have a Utah area code? She said her brother lives there. So, did she live there? She said she moved from San Francisco to LA during the pandemic. But where is her place? Is it empty? Is she subletting? Or is her stuff in storage? These are all questions I should ask her, but without it feeling like an interrogation.

I have therapy today. Should I bring her up to Doctor M? I’m not really sure what else we’ll talk about today. Nothing terrible or big has happened in the last two weeks.

So far everything seems to be going really well with her. I think it might be serious? I mean, it’s not serious yet- but it has that potential. And she seems excited by me. I think she’s too smart for people, and they aren’t funny enough to keep her entertained. I’m trying to figure it out. Everything feels like it’s lining up perfectly.

Ashley is a nomad. I could see her living in New York City. It’s the best place to live if you suffer from insomnia. You can stay up all night, go for a walk, go to a bar, watch TV, read, write, chain smoke Marlborough Lights on your stoop. She’d have to take up smoking, though. Ever since I started doing morning pages I’ve gained momentum in all aspects of my life. My health, my weight, my career, writing, dating. Those are all filling up pretty quickly. And there’s a full moon tonight.

Saturday February 27, 2021

Joshua Tree, CA

I had a lot to unpack in therapy and I realized it’s because I’m doing my morning pages. Something has unlocked in my brain and it feels like a free for all of thoughts. It’s because of the book The Artist’s Way. The author said certain weeks would be harder than others and it’s so true. But I’ve done a lot in the last couple of weeks, including losing twenty-five pounds and opening up to dating again. I’m unpacking all my stuff and nurturing my child artist for the first time. I’m returning to my body, I think I gained weight during my lawsuit as a way to protect myself from the gaze of men. They’ve bothered me and stared at me my entire life, and I just wanted to be invisible to them. It’s like the weight I gained was my protection, and now I’m losing it, taking the armor off. The war is over. I won.

All I want is to do is write. I want to be like Fran Lebowitz. She isn’t college-educated, and I’m so happy I didn’t waste four years of my life going to school when I learned how to be funny just by being alive. We both knew we didn’t belong where we grew up. Something bigger was meant for us and we always knew it. I was meant to make people laugh, to write with a sense of humor you can’t find anywhere else.

My brain is my superpower. I just need to let my pen do the walking and the talking.

It’s like there is always fear within us, keeping us back from our true potential. We learn to live with it. Accept that it’s there, but put it in time out or put a muzzle on it. And then go for it.

I feel like I’m sprinting towards my goals now. Write, tell stories, be funny. It’s all I have to do, and everything else will fall into place.

Sunday February 28, 2021

Joshua Tree, CA

I finished The Artist’s Way last night. Perfect timing since it’s due today from the library. I’m on a six-week wait list for Big Magic, which my therapist suggested.

Some sort of energy is moving through me, from above my head, through my brain, into my arm, and now the pen is writing it down. This is what they say it’s like to be in the flow.

Augusten told me, “You can’t waste any time, you have a lot of writing to do.” As in multiple stories to tell and books to write. I read that the full moon is in Virgo and last night it had it’s strongest energy.

Monday March 01, 2021

Joshua Tree, CA

Things are happening. A shift. I’m doing my morning pages which is an exercise for my brain. It’s getting stronger. My humor is getting better, it’s sharp, it’s quick. I’m reading and writing. I’m listening to music and podcasts and news programs. It feels like I’m on super drugs.

When I drink it slows down my brain. It puts a fog over my mind and I have to wait for the fog to clear in order to function again. It’s like the marine layer when you wake up in Santa Monica, it won’t clear out until after eleven. Plus drinking too much depresses me.

I heard from Ashley this morning. She didn’t text me back yesterday. I have to get to the bottom of this. Does she live in LA? That’s all I want to know. I think she’s legit but I have so many questions. I do love that she’s smart though. I need someone who’s smart to keep up with me. I think she likes that I’m funny. It’s a good dynamic. And if I’m being catfished it’ll make a great story we can tell our grandkids one day.

That implies I want kids. The answer is I do not. They would cramp my style. I don’t like the noise and the mess they make, and I’m not gonna stop watching shows about women getting murdered by their husbands just because a child is in the room.

My needs are more important than ever right now. I’m nurturing myself, and I’ll make room for another person if I start dating. I wonder what my future looks like. It’s exciting. I think I’m on the cusp of something big. The stars and the planets are all aligning.