No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2002-03-19 - 8:06 a.m.

Open mike night

So last night I played. I went up in front of a bar full of strangers (and RockGirl, Mom and my sisters) and I played four songs (one of them an original).

I sang (mostly in tune, I think), I played guitar (with only a few late chord changes) and played harmonica. I didn't do as well as I wanted to. My singing really wasn't up to what has recently become my standard. I couldn't breathe. I was so nervous. I was terrified. I couldn't get a full breath because my whole torso was constricted. So I couldn't sing as well as I wanted to, because of the lack of breath.

RockGirl and the family told me that I was harsher on myself than I should be. They said they thought I did great. I kinda wish jo3 had been there so I could have gotten a musician's perspective.

But really the important thing here is that I went up and did it. Me. All by my lonesome.

I can hardly believe that I actually did it. I've been dreaming about this for years. I mean years upon years. Ten years now I've been playing guitar. And just now I finally went up and performed.

I mean, yeah, I wasn't great.

But I wasn't terrible, either.

And I did it.

I need to practice breathing before the next time.

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