bleating heart

after my performance last night, after somehow gluing together 2500 words (not all of them very good words), i seem to have none left. it was such a terrifying thrill to be up there on stage, doing the kind of performance that I feared the most. Solo. Spoken word. Just me. And the audience. and I didn’t know a soul, except for the organizers of this event.

i was up there reading (or bleating)  and it was peculiar because i was reading some other person’s words. But that other person happened to be who i was up until the moment i stood there on stage. I didn’t think what i wrote was all that amusing but I was amused that the audience found this so amusing… it began to amuse me. and i committed my cardinal sin of laughing onstage. Which was embarrassing. I was trying to focus on other things but they would not stop laughing. And I wasn’t even trying to be funny. i was trying to make it through 25 minutes without blowing too many notes with that frail instrument known as my voice.

all of these people i didn’t know congratulating me afterwards. i wish i knew each of them better because i am certain i could find things in them that i would like to congratulate.

And then it was over. They invited me to the “cast party” of sorts at a bar, but I decided I needed to eat a burrito first. At Whole Foods, with election coverage blaring from the TVs above the bar, alone. Or at least that was how I dreamed it. And by the time I arrived at the bar, I didn’t recognize a soul. Eventually I realized I was at the wrong bar. And I went home. And within minutes the election was over. And Obama was re-elected and the world was magically transformed. It was impossible not to feel joy and relief.

But I could actually portend this would happen the day before it happened. I saw someone walking an English Mastiff who looked exactly my guardian angel Mastiff. And whenever that happens, that always is a portent of great things to come.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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1 Response to bleating heart

  1. itszamber says:

    I always love a good poem! I’d love your feedback on mine:

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