The reading on Monday went really well: a lively, hipsterish crowd, many talented people sharing their goods. Fortunately there were only two deliberate comedians, myself included, which made it easier. As I was reading, though, I found that spot where you can hear the audience laughing and you know you have them - you can see when to hold back and draw out a point and when to go in for the kill. When I finished I felt like I had won their goodwill and that I hadn't exhausted their patience with my weird, sort of self-deprecating autobiographical sketches. So it was a success. That night I felt electric, I came home and bounced around the apartment and couldn't fall asleep. I want to write more stuff but I feel like I am still processing a lot of things.
Really it just felt good to put myself out there again, to risk something by asking for a microphone and expecting other people to listen. But it is funny that this blog which began as my own private journal produced stuff which I read to an audience of strangers. Sometimes I look at this life of mine and can't believe it. In a good way, of course.