Practicing the art of publishing and relentless Optimism against the INEVITABLE flow of time and my own self consciousness by not taking it too seriously.

New York.

Open Mic Thoughts

Writing down what faces me.

Thank you.

Look I worked really hard. In between Tri training, the Idea incubator/Resistor group, Work, Life, the constant writing, and whatever else, I needed to structure time and action items to pull this off. And more often than not, it was mundane, boring, solo work. Responding to emails. Writing emails. Reaching out to people on Facebook. Buying supplies. Reaching out to people on Instagram. Reaching out to people on the phone. Paying shit.

Plus beading, plus practicing, plus selling.

But if you build it, they will come.

And so they did.

So 18.4.2018 is a beautiful day for me. I rented 61Local until 12, and at 4:30, drudged into an empty Brooklyn loft space. It’s beautiful in exactly how the hipster Brooklyn bar scene is beautiful. Two exposed, aged solid wooden support beams in the middle of the room. On three walls are exposed brick, the stage is white walled.

It’s empty and the windows are both barred and locked.

Up goes an extremely crooked piece of paper on one wall. Two dangerously neck height bare hanging wires around the wooden supports.

A single camera [Jess did me a huge favor by filming the event. I want to pull the footage, edit a video/trailer together], a single mic, a single music stand.

An aluminum shaded bare bulb is the only spotlight I have.

I dash off some quick scribbles with color and patterns on paper. I stick post-it note pads everywhere. Try to disperse art supplies. Place chair haphazardly. Looking for the balance between comfortable and unorganized. I want to inspire art and creation, to give people space and community to do something they might not be very good at but might want to it. Or practice at. Creative or questioning.

Thank god Jared sets a bar. He puts up some incredible pieces. Intricate panels and heady illustrations. He also throws together a few adhoc things, including some signs. Peter arrives with some photo prints, and I’m glad that my opinions make the cut often. He’s got a good eye, and excellent technical skill resulting in great landscape captures.

People start trickling in. There’s mingling, somewhat. A few attempts at sketches. Lots of hugs and gratuity. I’m trying my best to host, make my way around to all of my friends. But soon I can push it off no longer.

A cigarette, a beer, and 10 minutes of deep breathing and it’s time. Just me and the mic. [I wish]

It’s hot. The sweat collects on the shaved back neck, the mic is too high, jesus, I can’t make eye contact with anyone, much less lift my head. You’re rooted to the floor like a statue. Thank god you’re reading slower than molasses, montone and listless. At least you can laugh at yourself, and no one’s throwing anything. They laughed at the poetry class joke, that’s good. It couldn’t have been the worst way to spend a Wednesday.

Oh wait the art is pretty good, and I’ve got sheets of it.

Yo, the bowtie and the vest definitely show up as inspiration. Okay, photo booth[?] and event photographer is mandatory next time. Encourage the dress up.

Books swap for sure.

A few more artists and a nude model would be great.

Okay I think I felt the right vibe though. This is what I was aiming for. A little participation. A little weirdness. And that room loved me.

Fuck, I didn’t fail for shit.

I owned it. Got the shit done, put in the work, panned the reward.

Alright. Yeah I’m good with that. Let’s run it back. Let’s try doing this again and see if we can at least repeat it. Take a few suggestions, add a few artists. Thursday? Or a Weekend? The 28th looks doable. After the half iron, but a little rest time too.

Running it back is easy. No need to shop. Crew is in. We can use the same venue. Okay, I’m emailing the venue. I’m going to add a few folks to the fb group. Pass out chores, see who picks it up.

Hit up Matt. Rob, Simone, Hershey. TJ.

Okay also, include Resistor. DA people. Book clubs.

Um. We all made something beautiful. Everyone who picked up a crayon, or did something different, or smiled back. They helped make an empty converted loft into a hide away for me. Somewhere I wouldn’t mind crashing into a glass door, tripping over a crack, or dropping a drink. Singing in public. Stretching at the club. Skipping down the street.

I loved those people, and they loved me too, and I’ve never felt so safe and warm. So excited at each day. Damn, fuck. If this were an anime, you’d see water ripples. If this were parchment, you’d see slightly crinkled spots.

I hope they liked it. I hope that the experience was worth having, worth being fully engaged it. Uncomfortably safe, and securely risk taking.

Um, I am a muse. I literally was the interpretation of lots of art, even as I tried and did not try to be. Even as other people were, in their own way. There was a mimicry/inspiration effect, and I like it and I want to cultivate it.

Bring out the best in people by being the best of yourself. By which we mean the most authentic and vulnerable in the safe and comforting space.

 

Things to add:

Photographer

Photo op [Lights? Set camera/phone holder plus remote. Background Screen.]

Nude model/Art lesson

Yoga [Amanda]

2 readers? [Torrey. Me for shorter. One more]

2/3 Live performers. [Taylor, Tyler]

2/3 DJs [Isaac, Peter, Joey?]

Artists: Jared, Peter, Caitlyn, +2

Drew might set up projection

Give out just as much art supplies but find better ways to cover the wall. Telegraphic poles? Block into the wall, nail in to the block? Cardboard frame?

Set up a guest book/email list/FB list

Create a crypo as a gift. Token on Ethereum or Coin on CoinCreator. I was a physical QR code though to imprint on coins.

Also QR code for artist to showcase their social media platforms/websites. Include your blog.

 

The Alchemist

Life Uncomfortable