i woke up at 5am with my head spinning, sleep was not going to happen. i feel a little weird / scared, so i am sitting here writing to the great "you", so that you can be here with me.
we had a little "open mic night at the coffee hosue" last night, but without the coffee house. i read a couple of poem's i've written, which was a blast. i feel like i am the recipient of a gracious gift, to be able to read them, and to hear people enjoy them. there have been poetry reading night's before, here at the gathering, but i've always missed them, or been there without my computer, which is where my few poems live.
while there was much to like about the evening, it was mostly what i expected. someone would step up and play a song or read a poem and i would love that moment, and then be ready for the next one. the unexpected surprise was my friend damien, who i have always experienced as a quiet and thoughtful person. he was transformed, or i guess more accurately, unveiled. experiencing damien's poetry was something i am still recovering from a little bit. i'm not sure there are adjectives and adverbs who would be willing to take the job of trying to describe what it was i saw. i feel like i haven't been such a good friend, to have known him a bit for a these years, and to be so shocked by this.
anyway, it was a fun night for me. however, i am now in the private little hell that i am sure all artists live in at one time or another. trying to be cool and generous, but the calm of that is just the eye of a storm of darkness. a hot mass of comparison meets a cold front of inadequacy generating a perfect storm. i tell myself one lie and then the next. they were all better than me, i sucked, i should be glad they didn't yank the microphone away from me. no, no no ... THEY sucked, they all sucked, they should be glad to be in the same room with me. when these forces are in perfect balance, i can stand in the calm of the eye, and clap enthusiastically for every song, and have the peace to let each poem sink in and do some work.
i wonder if will ever be able to do something like that without going through this. it's like i have a devil on one shoulder whispering un- helpful things into my ear, and on the other shoulder is another devil, waiting for his turn. it would be great for the outward me, the one who is glad to hear all these friends and fellow pilgrims, to be generated by an inward me who i would not be ashamed of. if anyone has any idea how i can trade in this pair of used devils for a pair of low milage angels, i'd love to hear about it.
this photo of my shadow, a toweringly tall tall midget, seems to fit right in here. thanks for sitting up with me. i feel a bit better.