It is early, it seems so anyway, but in fact it is 7am now. We were woken by a party in the flat across the courtyard. I slept so badly, waking every hour or so, wondering what time it was, and then roaring laughter, shouting and singing and when I went and quietly asked them to keep it down, total offensiveness. I am not used to people being really humiliating and awful. After, I was meditating and thinking of revenge! How awfulÄ¶. I felt really horrid. Eventually I got over it, but it was intriguing to watch the ego needing to get back.
New York was interesting. I am not sure how much fun it was. I loved seeing certain people and really did not enjoy others. I stayed in the apartment of an old, old friend. Sadly he is now so self obsessed and filled with his own importance and glory that conversation was totally impossible and he was rude. I tried to talk, even lightly, but was only allowed to listen to how marvellous he was and how successful he was and how his therapist said he was normal.
Luckily he was away for most of the time I was there and I was alone. But I noticed how I was great alone, but when he was there I felt really lonely. I hate the neediness that comes with loneliness. The lack of self dependency.
The body painting part was big. A huge show, classes, painting, endless talking and lots of ÄúOhmygodIloveyourwork!Äù Said in breathy American accents. I got quite sad on the last day when I realised it really was nearly over. Who will I be if I am not the body painter?
I did meet some delightful people, though. And Mr Michael Devellis is beyond charming and professional. Quite a personality and oh, so professional.
It is great to be home. To be cuddled, loved and needed.