Fresh off the bus, back from reading at the Bowery Poetry Club in New York. I had THE BEST time. No, really! Usually I dread these things. I dreaded this one. In fact, all the way there my friend Cara Bruce and I were bitching about how scary it is to read your work in front of people and wondering “why we put ourselves through this” again and again. We were excited about going to NY, “except for this whole reading thing.”
I ended up having one of the best readings of my life. My hands didn’t sweat, my legs didn’t shake. I didn’t rush through the words. Hell, I even improv-ed a bit! Getting feedback from an expressive audience is a gift for any artist, and I was truly feeling it while onstage this time. A man in the front row quietly recited my paraphrased Thoreau quote with me. People giggled in all the right places. The space, the audience, the other performers, friends in the crowd, and maybe just the combo of my age and experience all finally added up to an evening I am grateful for. Or maybe I am old enough not to take anything for granted anymore. How lucky am I, that I am asked to share my words in public sometimes? And that I can make someone laugh, cry or empathize? That someone would give something I’ve written any attention when there are a zillion TV shows, songs, movies and other books crying out for their time? Thank you, universe. Thank you, New York.
