Three days until I...do something

As the CD and Book Release Party bears down on me, I am noting I am becoming increasingly irritable and restless. There is, within me, an element that despises public appearances.

It's not that I hate my public, it's that I have, deep inside me, a seventeen year old boy, lacking in self-esteem, who always feels awkward when eyes are on him. Add to this the absence of a present muse, someone to lock in on during the performance parts of the evening, what I always refer to as my anchor.

I mean, I can always "go there" emotionally, but without a physical link I sometimes feel isolated and raw. Since I am currently, emotionally bound to a muse who can not be present (it's a long drive from California) and I would feel dishonorable focusing in on another woman, the performances on Thursday will probably be raw and unpredictable. Like the infamous performance during the Southern Poet's Reading Tour at the Fairhope Arts Center.

Now that, everyone who attended will agree, was a great reading. I disconnected from the audience, turned inward, and ripped open a lot of hastily stitched emotional wounds to bleed for the audience. It was a catalyzing performance, maybe my best ever. I tend to measure all other performances by it (although it wrecked me for several hours, it did bring out the nurturing side in a friend who would later become my wife for a season).

With the emotional landscape of the new books being so intense, I can only hope for a good disconnect. I'll just be interested to see how raw I am afterwards, as that will tell me how real my performance was.

Good morning, Jaz.