Illuminated

I had a frickn' fantastic time at the Small Sprial Notebook 5th Anniversary Party (otherwise known as Felicia kicks total b-hind bash) last night. Good writing, funky people, and people liked me. Good combo, if you ask me. I hate to say it, but sometimes social situations come down to one thing: do people like me? Like everyone else, I get social anxiety, though I hide it by asking TONS of questions, so people will feel more comfortable and making them laugh. It's scary meeting new people, but when you are new in town, THAT'S ALL THERE IS--new people, new situations.

Also, coming from three years in Santa Cruz, where many people stop at the mere IDEA of doing something--instead of actually DOING IT, it's strange to be in a town where it's all about GETTING THINGS DONE. People come to New York, to live their intentions, not just talk about them, and it's a little awe inspiring at the GO GO GO attitude of so many artists here, none the least are writers. I sat with a couple last night that are both writers, and editors by profession, as well as partners in running their own literary journal. I asked, when did they get their writing done? They said at 5:30 in the morning. Then, when did they get their literary journal put togther? "Evenings." They both replied. I couldn't believe they had time to eat food, much less be at this shindig.

I was REALLY NERVOUS being the only musician at a literary event, and as it happened, I was last to go on, so I had LOTS OF TIME TO QUIETLY FREAK OUT. I hadn't practiced, no sound check, and nobody knew who I was. I went outside to tune and to warm up and enjoyed a street show of LIFE IN NEW YORK, where lots of run-by performances were happening unawares to the players. A man walked by screaming obscenities, another woman walked out in sparkling short-skirt attire, looking like she'd been transported from Studio 54, an old Chinese man swept his doorway. Then, as I was strumming the chords of "High Hopes," the doorman started singing, making up words, about having to watch the door, and letting people come in. I laughed outloud and immediately felt better. Of course, it went fine. I had thoughts that I was a total jerk, but I knew that Graham would say to me afterward that I did well. So I told myself that no matter how it FELT, a whole other reality was happening in the audience--and I was right.

I've been feeling so crummy this week, but like every single time I live my purpose and my dream outloud, I feel illuminated. This morning I am full of ideas: I want to go on a tour, I want to be playing out more, I want to join a writing group, I want to assemble some of the art I've been doing into a book, I want to finish my novel, and do cover art for it. It's the weekend. I have plans. The weather will be beautiful. Good thing I am in the right place, at the right time.