Bombing

There was a point last night, at the end of the first paragraph of "The Beginning of Everything," where I realized I had nine more pages to read aloud in front of a group of people clearly not interested in the short story form.

That moment lasted 19 years.

In trying to find other open mic venues at which to perform, I stumbled upon one that was happening yesterday at the Golden Flame Restaurant & Lounge in Silver Spring.

A mini-scene:

MIKE: Um, yeah. Hi. I'm here for the-- is this where the Open Mic night is?

WAITER: Mike?

MIKE: Yes.

WAITER: [speaks Spanish to another waiter using words like donde and maybe the word for idiot; other waiter answers; turns to me] There's no Mike here.

MIKE: Are you? No: not Mike, like, "My name is Mike." I mean Open Mic?

WAITER: No. No Mike here. Maybe tomorrow.

MIKE: Right. It's just-- what I. I have this paper, and it says that there's an open mic night here, tonight.

WAITER: May I see this paper?

MIKE: Sure. See, right there: "Open Mic."

WAITER: Would you like to see a menu?

As far as why I bombed like Nixon with the flop-sweats -- there are a lot of reasons. For one, I haven't really practiced reading this one aloud. In fact, I think Zach's the only one who has heard any of it. For another, it runs right around 12 minutes. Time being relative, turns out 12 minutes is actually two lifetimes when you're in the corner of a lounge reading a piece you haven't really practiced to a group of people who aren't responding at all.

I mean, at all.

It's not exactly a laugh-out-loud piece, "The Beginning of Everything." But there are some funny moments. The only part that got a chuckle? Cat poop. The stuff about the cats and the suppositories, that made them laugh. Well, chuckle. Actually, someone may have sneezed and I'm choosing to count that as a laugh because I am desperate for people to like me.

I wish there was a way to give you the entire experience. How I never looked up once from the paper. How the microphone made my voice sound completely other -- like David Sedaris with a headcold. And normally I get compliments on my speaking voice. But my throat felt tight the entire time, and I wasn't breathing, or rather, I did breathe, but never at the right time, and I couldn't stop feeling dizzy and my right knee literally began knocking in and out of joint and wow I mean Wow you know WOW.

Awful.

Oh, and the most awesome part of all? This exchange with a cute/geeky attorney while waiting to be called to go up to read:

MIKE: Did you bring anything to read?

CUTE/GEEKY ATTORNEY: What? No. No. I don't read.

MIKE: You're illiterate? And still passed the bar? That explains so much about our legal system.

CUTE/GEEKY ATTORNEY: Nice. No: I mean, I don't read stuff in front of people. My stuff isn't really "read aloud" stuff.

MIKE: Gotcha.

CUTE/GEEKY ATTORNEY: And it's so painful, sometimes, to hear someone reading who clearly shouldn't be.

MIKE: I know. Just because you're a good writer, or you've written a good piece, doesn't mean you can actually read what you've written.

CUTE/GEEKY ATTORNEY: What are you reading?

MIKE: This short story I wrote.

CUTE/GEEKY ATTORNEY: I'm really looking forward to it.

Ah, unintentional irony: I've found thy sting.