What I'm reading below from 20 years ago produces the feeling of a riot in my mind...
I'm trying to communicate coherent thoughts today like I almost did in 1997 when I attended something called "The Landmark Forum,"which was basically a good experience, by the way.
What I wrote then makes sense to me now and perhaps helps others as well, so I'm posting it here...
However, I also remember that the idea of writing my story was to dismiss it, therefore it becomes worse the more I try to clarify it...the more you fix a problem the more you prolong it...
"My issue is
I am always right and I prove it all
night to the destruction of the relationship.
I was born and loved.
I played piano.
I didn't connect physically.
There was
teasing by the older girls, and I was sensitive and protected by my
parents, though my parents couldn't do much to, or about, the outside
world. (Instead my parents effectively sheltered me from the outside world...)
I am sure that I was better by being
different.
At a time when My Favorite Martian was a popular TV show, I was a martian. My friend (Michael Cavagnetto) accepted me as that and when
I went to breath the car exhaust he said cut it out you're not. He
humored me, but it was fun for me that he went along with my special
delusion.
I think people like being with a special person so I tried
to be one, to get friends, but actually I never (developed close relationships) because I
was never genuine. I was always different and somehow it
became right to be my way. I wasn't successful except in my own
mind where I was the tremendous hero of supernatural ghost stories, fantasies that compromised
my happiness to show how real they could be.
(By fantasizing, I could convinced myself to believe in my own imagined successes.)
I remember ending one of my ghost stories by confronting a chasm in the cellar by the plumbing
------------
(There were copper pipes under a bar counter at the far end of the finished
cellar at 67-113 Dartmouth Street. Across from the bar were built in bookshelves
where I could climb up and catercorner like a monkey. Covering the cellar floor were black and white tiles large enough for life-size chess pieces to stand upon, so it felt like a location from Alice Through the Looking Glass.)
(As for the ghost story, I persuaded those ghost friends, to back away as I bridged from their ghost world
past - 1910? into my day to day existence of a finite life path.)
--------------
High school recognition lasted for the
first semester, then my grades plummeted to average. (Archbishop Molloy I remained isolated until I joined a rock band.)
well, I made movies with them and this involved them in
creative projects.
If they weren't enrolled, someone else would be
there. I never planned filming prior to the moment. Something turned out and
I was right to do what I wanted. No one expected anything. In fact
there was no competition. I was doing what no one else was doing at
the little league. I was making a movie.
(reel three of The Ruins is here with the Pink Floyd sound blocked: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lhB7fT9H794&t=59s)
))
I was struggling against excellence in
a competitive field
(no sports for me... but then I remember loving everyone, all the children in the alley, playing a casual game of baseball while the sun was setting...a lovely event).
I could excel if no one else was doing it at
the time. That forged the way for my doing what no one else was doing, ever, in a performance or in writing, but I got so far gone that I
embarrassed myself and those around me, because my art was an expression
of my emptiness, and here I drop terms like necrophilia and fixual??
ideas. (For example, my movie, The Last Dodo considers the practice of circumcision as a mark of civilization
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rliw1JVv6QA )
I thought my ideas crazy – like songs of
one boy loved by a group
They were from current pop ideas, I guess.
So I figured, if you are creative, inventive
and unique then your limitations won't matter, and indeed I improved, but improved no further because I had proved enough.
And nobody could get it.
I couldn't say about it (writing songs, making these little movies) that I was
doing art as my work. No one wanted it and I was so undisciplined
with it.
Of course I was right about its uniqueness, and my
uniqueness, and I was lonely because no one could accept my distant
aloofness...
Actually, when I revealed myself, I presented a boring ordinary
privileged kid with barely an iota of relatable suffering, who had
abused his own privacy, and was in fact his own abuser...
– what was I punishing
myself about?
I was a child (of 4) when I discovered sex. I couldn't
rightfully share that with anyone, and I was getting all the secrets
through self-discovery. No sharing there. I was too embarrassed about it. Years later I could share it
but (felt that I and my partner) were at different levels.
I've become so bored by this (I think that was the intention of this exercise), still
trying to focus on "I'm right" and that "everyone comes back and agrees," and I
prove (I'm right) through the acceptance of my creative work, which remains
nebulous and incomplete because of time constraint excuses, preventing the confrontation of people's judgments.
I who am so judgmental and
so vicious in my critique with such command of words yet I never
really hurt any one. I'm only dangerous in my callous lack of
discretion in revealing secrets, and in having no integrity because my word
is never fulfilled except by coincidence which I play up, and by blind luck. Really I act only under pressure and am amazed when it
works out and I take all the credit.
Susan (I had a friend as a client who I represented in a car crash) kept pushing me on her case to
the point where I said to the adjuster, pay me her demand or she goes
to a really good attorney.
What the hell was I talking about? I
have no self regard and I succeeded
(the adjuster offered me her demand and we settled her case.).
I've been trashed and remain here because I don't care, and succeed and don't care. How did I get to
be an attorney? 'cause I'm so smart and angry, but barely able to
drag myself around with these gifts and a creative mind and just
being there. (Yes I'm an attorney:
http://lawyers.justia.com/lawyer/peter-william-dizozza-1173507)
I don't take drugs or drink.
So the details go to the present (1997) total
loneliness because people expose my falsehood of greatness and
uniqueness and yet there is something going on so I'm trying to
picture what I want and be right about it before going for it.
I want a relationship, and an active creative
life. I'm just a story teller. Where do I go? What do I do?
I wrote a show with Jim Vogel while I
was in a workshop (Gunshy, our 10 minute musical for the BMI Music
Theater Workshop
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ail0NaUkZU). That was an opportunity for the greatest exposure to other people's
greatness, and I didn't have time, only excuses.
(I like that piece, Gunshy... based on a William Saroyan short story, knife like,Knife-like, Flower-like, Like Nothing at All in the World)
All I can say is my opinion of my work
matters in that I can pick and choose and it's only mine. How do I
leave this stuff?
(We need each other. I admit I need people. I need you to agree with me...as I take a stand and be a possibility, and from where I stand, I will listen to your possibility. )
This was 20 years ago....
