You mean, like, acting? Like spoken word?
Grrl, I don't even like live BROADCASTING! I want my stuff nice and tight, edited, mixed, canned...I like to be out of the BUILDING when my stuff gets heard!
I dig puttin down the street on my art scooter, just another character on the streets, while all them yuppies in the SUVs hear my stories during drive time!
I think it's ironic.
Ok, so, I've never had a bad experience on stage. So, I can read my poetry 'til people are laughing so hard it hurts or crying their eyes out. So, I've done readings.
I had friend back then. And I was cute. I was young and exotic.
I'm an ugly, old bag lady with bad teeth now!
They won't be laughing for the right reasons.
And I've lost my ability to make casual eye contact with humans. I fear them now.
Didn't you notice what a hard time I had, looking at you?
I've tried, all day, to remember what color your eyes are! I think they're hazel or green. But I remember them as golden, like a cat.
Performance art?
You understand, don't you, that I'm actually looking forward to this?
No, not because I'll be exposing myself to strangers who are close enough to spit on me.
It's because of you. It's your faith in me. It's your firm conviction that it's a good idea.
I trust you.
And I don't trust.
I also feel a powerful need to show you I can do it. And show me, too.
Yeah, at our age, big dreams are all that's left. And, you're right: what do we have to lose? So, why not?
Besides, you'll be there, too.
I can't call you a friend, yet, but you're sure respectful and generous. And that's what's important.
I'm sorry I didn't understand you sooner. I'm sorry I didn't see. I'm sorry I didn't listen.
It's been twenty years since I had a conversation like yesterday's with a woman. I'd gotten so used to confining myself, I forgot how supportive women can be.
This recent crisis is an example of why I stopped trying.
You're a helluva lot of fun.
It'll be safe, going with you to an open mic. I can't think of another person in this town I'd agree to go with -- not to perform, anyway.
So, I'm sitting here, grinning, shaking my head in wonderment again.
All I wanted to do was patch together a modest career, selling a few news stories.
I didn't want to be recognized, watched.
I just wanted to help and make a little money for myself.
And here you come, tapping into my Secret Lily Tomlin Complex. Nobody knew. And I spilled it to you immediately.
Well, I said I wanted to open, to be creative, to be real, to be honest.
Watch out what you wish for, huh?
I'd forgotten I'd even wanted that. Except once in awhile. But I smash it back down as soon as it crosses my mind.
A week from Wednesday, huh? Jees, not even much time to prepare!
I'll have to ask you fifty million questions, next time I see you.
I'd be honored to attend an open mic with you.
Anybody else, and I'd have run for cover.
But I recognize you. We have a lot in common: more than I knew. You know what you're talking about.
I trust you.
Thanks!
oh, lordy, what am I getting myself into now???
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