Naked City

[jack_babalon]

So I did it.

My first spoken word in what... six, seven years.

And I wasn't scared or nervous... until approximately the minute I headed off to the event. Fear snagged, gun-fight jitters, bad vibes and sinister ju-ju abounded.

And so I read my piece on the way there to brush up. On the street marching to the station where I realized I had printed up an earlier draft instead of the one I needed. On the east bound platform of the Innman Park MARTA station - where families, post overtime commuters and the living dead eyeballed me warily. Just another crazy vying for attention. On the way to the theater, marching out of Avondale station to approving nods from dreadlocked youths bemused by my self-conscious rant-of-consciousness.

And I texted Magpie all the way out there in L.A. L.A. Land who texted me right back - amongst other words of encouragement- 'Take a deep breath'.

And I remembered back to this exchange with my mother, last Thursday, after I showed her the Naked City flyer I designed:

Mom: "So, are you going to do it?"

Me: "What, read? Nah."

Mom: "Why not?"

Me: "Aw, y'know mom... that whole stage fright thing."

Mom: "Oh." And she made this face only Mom's can make - faces that express all the understanding and yet disappointment in the world boiled down to a single glance.

Me: "What?"

Mom: "It's just... never mind."

Me: "What?"

Mom: "Well, it's just you're father. You're father never cared if you made it or didn't. If you became successful or not. He just wanted you to... to not be afraid."

And when you hear those words from your mother's lips, when you see this frail, little woman standing sadly in front of you and remember a lioness in your youth who could banish all sickness, all worries, all transgressions away with a kiss to your forehead before bed... and how could you not march up there and roar the fuck out of some words?

And I'm at PushPush Theater where I'm glugging back the house red, huffing my Camels as fast as I can light them and pondering the poker chip Teddy's handed me. A number 5. My number for the reading. Ten minutes before showtime. One by one my friends arrive - Red, Tick-Tock, Kat, Lena and the Tall Cowboy. They all know I'm reading. I posted the shit out of my doing so on Facebook. Originally I wanted to surprise everyone, but I realized a few days ago that unless I put it out there then I'd just shy away and melt back into the crowd like I usually do. I had to make sure I'd be publically shamed if I pussed out.

And Big Tim Habeger opens up the set with the thunder and then to my surprise I'm called up next. Lucky number 5. Applause follow the announcement of my name. I summon a mask of Bravado. I rise and make my way to the stage, waving with good naturedly with goofball theatrics. Internally I boil it all in my head -

"Take a deep breath."

"Tell the truth."

"You're going to be fine..."

"...to not be afraid."

And lucky number five hits the stage, with hands that won't stop trembling until the readings done and whatever else they will say of whatever happened next, know that I proved to myself that I won't be ruled by my fears anymore.

And tonight's the first night I've drank in a week, so forgive what was left out and forgive also, I guess what wasn't.