Auspicious start: the Happy Endings reading was a starred pick in Time Out!
The venue was packed, and it was super fun to meet Jessa Crispin Beth Lisick before Amanda overwhelmed me with compliments as she introduced me to the audience.
Happy Endings has a strictly enforced premise: we were all supposed to take a public risk, for real, that is not a stunt. There are very few things I’m afraid of that would translate to a performance: it is difficult to find the dramatic impetus of not washing your hands often enough.
In the weeks leading up to the event I surveyed all of my friends and a fair few strangers to get advice on what I should do. To introduce my set I read out a transcript of all the suggestions people offered (noting names, occupations, and geographical distribution).
The main theme my friends arrived at was some version of nudity, including from Stella read without a shirt on and from Ayun put on tassels and twirl it baby! But in my childhood I was a medical curiosity: being naked in front of strangers is not frightening.
The audience laughed the most at Byron’s suggestion, particularly when I added and he told me not to say that on stage. Also at James’ comment, which can be paraphrased as be wrong for once in your life. Neither option were helpful from a performance perspective, nor do they reflect my deepest fears.
So what did I do? What risk did I take? What scares me, in a profound and paralytic fashion?
I made a telephone call.
Specifically, I called my in-laws, for the first and presumably the last time in my life.
The ensuing conversation involved even more compliments and kindness directed at yours truly, amplified by a microphone and overheard by a jaded NYC audience.
I was literally hopping up and down with anxiety by the end of the exchange.
After the reading Johnny Temple showed me a picture of his baby son holding Lessons in Taxidermy. People from the audience came up to tell me that they were a cancer-slash-writing support group. Coincidentally, I knew one of the women from our mutual association with various sketchy dot.com companies years ago.
I told a selection of friends and strangers a story that used the phrase waiting on line, only to have KTS furrow his brow and point out that I have forsaken my colloquial heritage.
Then we made a list of words that we children of the rural Pacific Northwest cannot pronounce (including but not limited to rural, roof, wolf, sword….
At some point as the crew moved from club to bar the bouncer I had the, er, encounter with a few years ago recognized me and leaned in, scowling.
I offered him a huge smile, and a little finger wave to remind him that, yes, I can in fact take him down.