track marks

Here's the thing...
I love performing.

Every part of me, down to the double helix of my DNA longs to have an audience pay attention when words fall out of my mouth.

Whether or not I'm reading words I wrote, reciting ones someone else penned or standing there making it all up on the spot, entirely out of whole cloth? That's an equation that ends with Me + talky = You listen with rapt devotion.

It's that part of myself that I both adore (the ability to spark an adrenaline rush quicker than a junkie can heat up a spoon full of horse) and despise (the soul crushing need for that junkie high.)

Whether it's at a backyard bbq or on stage front and center, the spotlight is my crack.

And while it's true that admitting you have a problem is the first step, the actual act of admitting that fact aloud is yet another chance to make someone listen to something you have to say....about yourself.

Since I'm too brain dead to come up with a less obvious analogy, we'll run with it. Like a junkie, I can go into rehab.

I can stay far enough away from the stage - as a writer or director or costumer - that I don't burn myself with the proverbial spoon.

But, when you hang down the block from the crack house...temptation is a mere dime bag away.

Last night I fell off the wagon...in the most glorious way. I was invited to participate in CHIRP's (Chicago Independent Radio Project) funky fundraiser, The First Time, at Uncommon Ground - an out and out fantastic event.

Each of the performers - Scott Smith, Margaret Hicks, Paige Worthy, Leah Jones, Karen Louis, Steve Frisbie, Jocelyn Geboy and myself - hit the stage to regale the crowd with a story which was immediately followed by a lovely rendition of a song connected to the story in some way.

The theme of the night was...well...about your first time. Doin' it.

And while there were a lot of shared moments of frustration and heartbreak, there were equal (if not more so) moments of balls out hilarity.

The trio of musicians, the aformentioned Steve on guitar, Liam Davis on guitar/piano and Gerald Dowd on drums/guitar - holy schnikes! I've been letting out sigh after sigh, wishing I could get my hands on a recording of the covers they performed last night. Marvin Gaye, The Grateful Dead, The Smiths, Death Cab for Cutie, Michael Penn, Modern English, Extreme ...

Dude.

The cover of More Than Words had the crowd singing along to the point where we nearly tore the roof off the mutha!

And the final song - Van Morrison's Madam George - was so full of loveliness...you could have heard a pin drop, the crowd sat so perfectly still with listening.

Honestly, I wanted to pull a bottle out of my pocket and pour that moment inside, Jim Croce style.

For my part, standing up there, telling my own tale of comic woe...it reminded me why I spent so much of my 20's and 30's onstage. And while I've kept my performer's life on the down low for the past few years - only performing once or twice a year (if that) - just putting my toe onstage brought it all back in a rush.

I need my fix, yo.
The genie is out of the bottle and I'm not sure I can put her back in.