Here I am…At Club Passim…in Boston…in the back…waiting…
And keeping the faith that people are going to come out and hear me sing in 50 minutes!
Hmm. I wonder what John Gorka is doing tonight? What is Carole King doing tonight? What is Annette Funicello doing tonight? Is Annette Funicello still alive? Am I spelling her name right? Do I get pre-show jitters? Yes. Will I throw up? No. Did I have a lovely salad? Yes, I did. Is my rental car fast? Yes. Will I get a speeding ticket? No.
Especially since that last one in New Mexico. Will I sell cds tonight? I hope so. Is anyone reading this blog entry? I don’t know. Do I care? Yes, indeed, I do care!
You know, this seems like a good time to have another conversation with Roger, my brain. It’s been such a long time that I’ve gotten to actually noodle
on my blog. I think I will noodle now.
ME: Roger. Wake up.
ROGER: Uh, HELLO. I’m obviously wide awake. I’m doing all the typing, sister.
ME: Don’t get smart with me.
ROGER: I’ll be smart with you because I am you, you nitwit.
ME: Nitwit! Hey, that reminds me. You know the word “nimrod”?
ROGER: I already know what you’re going to say.
ME: Look, I know you know, but let’s say someone from the intergalactic galaxy of the internet surfs on by and stops in and thinks, “This is odd. A woman who talks to her brain and shares the conversations. Hmm. I shall have a look-see!”, then I think it is only appropriate you let me spell out what I was going to say.
ROGER: Be my guest. I’m still way ahead of you, though. I’ll be typing it before you think it.
ME: STOP IT! Ok. (Regaining composure, fixing hair.) Back to what it was I was going to SHARE with everyone. “Nimrod” was a dumb king. Did you know that?
ROGER: Why must you ask me if I know something when I already told you I do?
ME: It’s a figure of speech. I mean, a figure of typing.
ROGER: I’ve got you typecast. Ha ha ha! (You can’t hear this, but my brain is laughing very loudly at me inside my head.)
ME: You’ve lost your mind.
ROGER: Ahem. I think it would be YOU that has lost your mind.
ME: I’m going to tell everyone what you just thought.
ROGER: No, you won’t.
ME: You’re right, I won’t. I’m going to report on something else. Like how nice the soundman, Scott, is here at Club Passim. How parking to perform here costs $30, so I better sell at least two cds tonight to pay for that.
ROGER: Stop worrying. Just get out there and have fun and think how lucky you are that your fingers work.
ME: That’s true. I’m glad I can play the guitar. I just feel old sometimes.
ROGER: Think about the fact that there will always be someone older than you. Do you hear them complaining?
ME: No, but they aren’t inside my head having these crazy conversations with me. Maybe if they were in here with us they WOULD be complaining.
ME: This greenroom is an office with a curtain covered in fruits, right next to the bathroom. I have a funny job! I never know what to expect one performance to the next.
ROGER: The elderly couple on the plane today was very kind. Remember them? They were older than you. They shuffled when they walked and they STILL used their manners.
ME: That’s true. They were so sweet. They both had white hair. The little old man had an orange pillow he brought to sit on. That was cute. And then he carried all his wife’s belongings. They were like high school sweethearts. Only with wrinkles.
ROGER: That’s going to be you any minute.
ME: Where does the time go?
ROGER: Speaking of going, why don’t you go to the bathroom before you go up on stage so you won’t have to take a break?
ME: Good idea. Remember that time in the Lonestar Dub Band, when I played keyboards in that reggae band, and I wore a leather mini-skirt and fish net
stockings and had to leave the stage to go pee? Greg, the leader, was looking at me all cross-eyed as I said “Excuse me” in his ear, hopped off the stage,
and then came back. They were still playing the same song and I just jumped up and started jamming again. Good trick, really! Good thing reggae is so long!
ROGER: You better make a set list.
ME: You’re right. Ok, I’ll get off the computer now and hope when I walk out there that there will be 50 people in the audience.
ROGER: 50?! Don’t you want more?
ME: Well, at this point, I’m hoping for 50. It sounds deadly quiet out there. I’m sure my booking agency will find out about this and it will be
back to the bunker for me. How’m I gonna get people out to hear me?
ROGER: Don’t fret. Someone will read this entry and give you some ideas. Surely, SOMEONE will read this drivel.
ROGER: (Low cough) Sometimes I forget we’re attached, you know. I have a mind all of my own, really.
ME: (Rolling my eyes.)