Have You Seen Me Lately?
My father called my brother who called my neighbor who knocked on my door. “You ok?”
I’m ok. But I’m hiding in plain sight.
The last few Daily Journal entries kinda’ signal that. I’m not saying much. I’m not being dishonest, but I’m certainly not being vulnerable.
I made it out this weekend — I saw Dough and Deena perform — but mostly, I sat home watching TV, reading, writing, and recording. And ignoring the phone.
I’m going to the Sundance Film Festival on Saturday. People say, “You must be so excited!” And I am, kinda’. But it also makes me anxious. I’m going to have to talk to people. I’m going to have to interact. Sweet Jesus on a Popsicle Stick: I’m going to have to make small talk with people at parties. I’m terrible at that!
What’s it all about? Why the recluse?
Get this: I don’t like crowds. I love being in front of them, but I hate being in them. And I don’t like meeting people. Not because I don’t like, well, knowing new people, but I loathe those few awkward minutes before you actually know them even just a little bit. And truth be known, I can’t get out of my head when I’m chatting with a stranger. All I hear is ‘Well that was a stupid thing to say.’
Not many people know this about me. Most of my friends, family and colleagues probably think I’m pretty personable, gregarious even. And I suppose that I am. But there’s that motherfucking voice in my head. ‘Well that was a stupid thing to say.’
I try not to let it cripple me. I do get out. I am going to Sundance. I have played shows at complete stranger’s houses, and venues I’d never stepped foot in. I do try and go out alone sometimes. But man, what a motherfucker, that voice. I gotta’ leave it back here in New York.