Last night at farenheit i read a new poem. none of my real friends came out to support, but that is always expected. I did have a wonderful, smokeless, night listening to funny stories and other poems, and after the reading, had great conversation with people i don't see but once or twice a month. we all come from different areas, but love the written word and music and story telling and laughter and especially doing it all in dimly lit bars in the east village.
The past two weeks have been pretty tough. i've been called an asshole, a bitch, mean, and an alcoholic. (okay maybe i've deserved one or two of those names.) i've been sad, and have been made to cry. i've misread people, thinking they were my friends, and realizing that they cannot be trusted. I've been made to feel unwanted and under-appreciated by people who don't know the real me. But nights like last night are worth all the shit i take, because last night a few things happened that i will always remember.
a) a stranger said to me, "i really like your writing." Not just the poem i read, but my actual writing. and that is the highest complement.
b) a friend said they enjoyed our conversation. we talked about mad max and we still had fun.
c) as i was leaving the bar, the host of the reading ran after me and gave me a hug and thanked me for reading and that i did a good job.
Those are the types of things that keep me going. keep me doing what i do. writing poetry, stories, acting. living life so that i can share it with you and the world. Making art is the most important thing in the world, and being able to make art is a rare thing for one to do. i'm so glad i'm not afraid anymore.
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