carose59: poetry (by Henry Gibson)
[personal profile] carose59

"Oh, No, Even A Crazy Person Can Get From Point A To Point B."*



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Saturday night I went to a storytelling evening where I was one of the two scheduled poets. I read five poems. (If you want to read them, they're here: http://carose59.livejournal.com/tag/but%20silence%20breaks%20the%20heart ).

It went over well. I didn't stumble over my words, though I did stumble a bit coming down from the stage. After it was over, several people told me how wonderful they thought my poems were. Howard, Diane's husband (who is a poet and storyteller, and who is how I got this gig) asked me why I hadn't published yet. One woman told me that she's not good at absorbing information aurally, but my poetry was so vivid, it really moved her.

And besides that, I met some lovely people and made a little money.

I stopped by my mother's house before I went, and she told me I looked so good, she hardly recognized me. (Note to self: stop going to my mother's house in my pajamas.)

It was nice. It was a social thing, so I got exhausted pretty fast, but the people really were nice. No-one I knew showed up.

It was kind of like going to the prom: I felt like I was doing it for other people. The part I liked was getting up and reading my poetry. Being excited was for the other people who expected it of me.

My mother's very excited about it. This will be good for me.

I don't know if I'm depressed or just antisocial. Maybe both.

In other news, I managed to drive there in the dusk and drive home in full dark. Of course, the place is closer to my home than work (which is only five miles away) and on a route that at one time was as familiar as my route to work (since I passed the old Tech Services building). No one died or was hurt and I didn't even panic over it.

I did fine. Maybe it's that I become exhausted by other people's enthusiasm. Maybe it's in my groundwater too, and later I'll be happy about it. Right now I'm quietly pleased and content.


*Larry Fleinhart

July 2024

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