Suddenly, I miss my audience

Boston Audience El Bico, 2000Okay, maybe it’s the chipmunks and the woodpeckers. They don’t get my jokes. Sadly, I get theirs. You see, the reason I love to perform is that it is really the only way I can experience intimacy with other human beings. Sure I like people, and have lots of good friends, but they are friends who understand that I must constantly perform for them or I do not exist. If they do not attend my one on one performances, they do not exist for me. That doesn’t mean I wouldnt’ jump off a bridge to save them or be at their bedside when the bird flu hits. It is simply that my personality, my person, is a performer, and when I am not performing, I am asleep or doing routine tasks like covering the barbecue grill with a plastic bag. When I am writing, it is a private performance which will exist when the writing reaches the eyes of another human being, wherever they are. I do not perform for squirrels, woodpeckers, or my dog. When I am alone, in my little cabin, and not writing, reading, sewing, sleeping, cleaning, playing with my dog, or taking a bath, I am in purgatorial state of detachment from the world. It is only through performance that I connect with whatever the hell is happening on this planet. Because whatever is happening on the planet is happening to all of us at the same time. I do not find solace in nature, for example, the crocuses that have sprouted this year with black freckles all over their petals, something that has not occurred before. at least not here on the lake. Does this interest me? No really. I cannot entertain the crocuses. Can you imagine going to bed with a woman like me? Tap dancing on your hairy chest, encouraging you to give me a standing ovation in the midst of coitus? Actually, I think that is a Tantric position. What I am trying to say is, darling: I’m ready for my close-up. Love, Laurel

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