Me- Good morning
J- To you too. Although it’s 1:04. But it’s morning somewhere right.
Me- What’s up today?
J- At work right now. It’s peaceful today as usual. Work is pleasurable. It’s raining today. The kinda rain I like.
Me- So again, what’s up today?
J- Um, I have a deadline to submit an article for an online magazine.
Me- Article about what?
J- How I became a poet.
Me- Did you choose the topic?
J- Nope. But it’s cool. An exercise for me to put on paper the question folks have asked me for years.
Me- So how did you become a poet?
J- Um…
Me- And stop saying “um.”
J- Well, I guess answering why is probably easier than how.
Me- Ok, so why?
J- Pushy pushy. But anyway, poetry was and has been for a very long time the most powerful way for me to use my voice. I have used poetry to love and get it out and protect and defend. Used poetry to remember and remind, to build and tear down bridges.
Me- Give me some examples.
J- Of what?
Me- Of say bridges you’ve torn down and built. What did you need to remember? How did you use poetry to love and what were you holding inside that you got out through poetry? You know, be specific. Isn’t that what you’re always saying in workshops?
J- Good one. Let’s see if I can answer all of the questions.
Me- Well you brought it up, not me.
J- Ok then, one by one. How have I used poetry to love? I gathered up my passion and put it in a ball and took it apart and used words to put it back together. Used words like thread to weave meaning into what I’m saying when I say “I love you.” Used words and poetry to describe the feeling of falling out of hope with folks I have loved.
Me- Ok, and you said you used poetry to “get it out”?
J- Get out the noise in my head. Sometimes I do exercises called freewriting where I jot down the feelings I have inside without trying to make too much sense of them. I write and write and write and think later. Then I go back and look and see that the feelings and thoughts weren’t so jumbled after all. That they just needed to be outside of me so I could see them clearly. Sort of like when you go try on an outfit in the dressing room and you can’t get a good sense of how you look just looking down at yourself and so you step outside and check yourself out in the mirrors.
(We giggle.)
Me- And then you judge yourself for having too much here and not enough there.
J- Exactly.
Me- What have you used poetry to remember?
J- Well the remembering comes out in the freewriting. When I let myself flow things come up I didn’t know were there. Or at least didn’t want to acknowledge where there.
Me- Like what?
J- Stuff. For now just accept that. Gotta go for now. More later ok?
Me- K.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Me with Lynette 8-23-11
So how do I introduce Lynette to you? I guess this isn’t really an introduction because I mentioned her several times on this blog. We have known each other for about fifteen years. We met when I had a recording session with her producer boyfriend (now ex beau). After the session she cooked for the crew and she and I laughed and have been encouraging each other and making each other laugh since then. Our boys are also about the same age. Actually her twins would have been born the same month had they not come a month early.
Right now I am with Clara. For more information on Clara, read previous blog entries. Right now Clara is occupied putting her makeup on and things are pretty quiet around here so I thought I’d get as much of this interview (conversation) done as possible. I called Lynette about five minutes ago but she was busy with lunch and we agreed that her turkey burger need not be included in this session so let’s see if / when she calls back.
5:30p
L: (By text) Is this a good time?
J: (By text) I’m sleepy now.
Right now I am with Clara. For more information on Clara, read previous blog entries. Right now Clara is occupied putting her makeup on and things are pretty quiet around here so I thought I’d get as much of this interview (conversation) done as possible. I called Lynette about five minutes ago but she was busy with lunch and we agreed that her turkey burger need not be included in this session so let’s see if / when she calls back.
5:30p
L: (By text) Is this a good time?
J: (By text) I’m sleepy now.
Me with Val part 2 8-10-11
V: I've been reading your blog.
J: Yeah?
V: Sure.
J: Well, you know, in case they wanna tell my story at least they can get it right.
V: Pst. Please...they ain gon git it right anyway. The most you can hope for is that they tell it well.
We laugh.
J: Yeah?
V: Sure.
J: Well, you know, in case they wanna tell my story at least they can get it right.
V: Pst. Please...they ain gon git it right anyway. The most you can hope for is that they tell it well.
We laugh.
Me with me part 8 4-14-11
* Another Wednesday.
J* Yep.
* You ok?
J* Yeah, I love Wednesdays.
* Because...
J* Still seeing the therapist on Wednesdays. Sorting out stuff. Looking at my patterns. Laughing at myself. After that I go to the Stage for poetry. I'm open on Wednesdays.
* Open?
J* Feeling everything. One minute I'm laughing the very next I'm crying.
* Crying about what?
J* Pshssshh, who knows? Tonight Michael was reading a poem about the Palestinians and I wanted to just cry and not stop. I didn't, but inside, I did.
* Why? I mean I know things are bad over there but what exactly triggered the (inside) crying?
J* Ummm, I was feeling a little upset because I was supposed to be picking up a check tonight that I found out wasn't ready and I had to wait and when he was reading his piece I thought about how silly I was being. Well, maybe not silly because I do want my money, but I thought about how...light my having to wait another day for a check was compared to being afraid for your life every minute.
* Make sense but you can't compare everything to that because somebody somewhere is afraid for their life and whatever issue you have is still an important issue. You know? Just because it doesn't weigh much to life and death...You understand what I'm trying to say?
J* I do. Just, in the moment I took myself out of myself and got into someone else's world.
* Got it. So, what new opened up in therapy?
J* A breakthrough today.
* Really?
J* Yeah, I won't share everything on this page but I traced back to when I became such a caregiver. You know, everybody's feelings over mine. Me being a sucker for everybody's tears. Everybody's wounds. And not taking care of myself. Not taking care of myself to the point of feeling guilty the few moments I did take care of myself. I'm seeing myself transitioning though. Loving me more. It's one thing to say you love yourself and it's something else to act like it. I can tell I'm loving me now.
* How?
J* Valuing my space. Acknowledging the energy I can and cannot hold. I was always so afraid of being the bad guy. I was a good girl growing up. But I was only good because I was afraid of taking risks and expressing myself. Good girls did what they were told. And so I did. And that cost me.
*Cost what?
J* Cost me my self expression. Cost me my voice. Cost me intimacy in some cases.
* Say more about that. The intimacy.
J* I am such a creative spirit and always have been. I see things differently from a lot of folks. I know that. When I was with people I didn't feel comfortable expressing myself with I pulled back. Silently, but surely. I would listen and smile and be good girl, but I knew that there was only so much I was going to give.
* And now?
J* Still now in some ways. I'm much more vocal now and can express myself much better and am a little less concerned about being the bad guy as much as I'm concerned about happiness, safety, love, peace.
* You feel at peace?
J* For the most part. I get anxious about things I can't control but I keep reminding myself that God sees, knows and can handle everything.
* Does that help? Knowing that?
J* Ummm, it does. Staying connected to Source takes focus. Constant focus. Sometimes I lose it.
* And then?
J* And then I have to remember to remember.
* Get some rest.
J* Love you.
* Big hugs.
J* Yep.
* You ok?
J* Yeah, I love Wednesdays.
* Because...
J* Still seeing the therapist on Wednesdays. Sorting out stuff. Looking at my patterns. Laughing at myself. After that I go to the Stage for poetry. I'm open on Wednesdays.
* Open?
J* Feeling everything. One minute I'm laughing the very next I'm crying.
* Crying about what?
J* Pshssshh, who knows? Tonight Michael was reading a poem about the Palestinians and I wanted to just cry and not stop. I didn't, but inside, I did.
* Why? I mean I know things are bad over there but what exactly triggered the (inside) crying?
J* Ummm, I was feeling a little upset because I was supposed to be picking up a check tonight that I found out wasn't ready and I had to wait and when he was reading his piece I thought about how silly I was being. Well, maybe not silly because I do want my money, but I thought about how...light my having to wait another day for a check was compared to being afraid for your life every minute.
* Make sense but you can't compare everything to that because somebody somewhere is afraid for their life and whatever issue you have is still an important issue. You know? Just because it doesn't weigh much to life and death...You understand what I'm trying to say?
J* I do. Just, in the moment I took myself out of myself and got into someone else's world.
* Got it. So, what new opened up in therapy?
J* A breakthrough today.
* Really?
J* Yeah, I won't share everything on this page but I traced back to when I became such a caregiver. You know, everybody's feelings over mine. Me being a sucker for everybody's tears. Everybody's wounds. And not taking care of myself. Not taking care of myself to the point of feeling guilty the few moments I did take care of myself. I'm seeing myself transitioning though. Loving me more. It's one thing to say you love yourself and it's something else to act like it. I can tell I'm loving me now.
* How?
J* Valuing my space. Acknowledging the energy I can and cannot hold. I was always so afraid of being the bad guy. I was a good girl growing up. But I was only good because I was afraid of taking risks and expressing myself. Good girls did what they were told. And so I did. And that cost me.
*Cost what?
J* Cost me my self expression. Cost me my voice. Cost me intimacy in some cases.
* Say more about that. The intimacy.
J* I am such a creative spirit and always have been. I see things differently from a lot of folks. I know that. When I was with people I didn't feel comfortable expressing myself with I pulled back. Silently, but surely. I would listen and smile and be good girl, but I knew that there was only so much I was going to give.
* And now?
J* Still now in some ways. I'm much more vocal now and can express myself much better and am a little less concerned about being the bad guy as much as I'm concerned about happiness, safety, love, peace.
* You feel at peace?
J* For the most part. I get anxious about things I can't control but I keep reminding myself that God sees, knows and can handle everything.
* Does that help? Knowing that?
J* Ummm, it does. Staying connected to Source takes focus. Constant focus. Sometimes I lose it.
* And then?
J* And then I have to remember to remember.
* Get some rest.
J* Love you.
* Big hugs.
Me with me part 7 3-10-11
J. So what's up? Where are you? (As if I don't know)
Me. "What's up?" is a loaded question, and a boring one too so I'll answer the second. I am on the Greyhound going to Philly.
J. For what?
Me. Poetry. The gig came at the perfect time too because I was in Atlanta doing a couple of shows out there and handling some personal business also. I was gonna catch the bus back to Los Angeles but they called and asked if I was available for this show and I was. My only thing about doing this show in Philly on Friday is that I have to be in Cali Saturday morning so they are flying me out after the show Friday night. Cool.
J. How is the bus ride? What is it, eleven hours on the road to Philly?
Me. About that. But the bus is gon have a way of stretching that out to twenty. I don't mind the ride though. I suggested it. I've taken many long rides but not usually this way, and it saved them some money. Besides, and I don't know why, but I sleep well and come up with some real good stories on long bus rides.
J. But what about your back and legs.
Me. Yeah. I'm sore sometimes but I go to the spa and sit in the hot tubs and saunas then stretch real good and I'm straight. Haa get it? I stretch and then I'm straight??
J. Yeah I got it but it wasn't funny.
Me. Yeah well.
J. What time is it anyway?
Me. 1:26 am
J. You ain't tired?
Me. A little. But I like this time on the bus when everybody is sleep. I let myself feel the pattern of bumps in the road, look out at the dark trees, make up stories, pray. Stuff like that.
J. And tonight you're talking to yourself and writing it down.
Me. You always point that out. So what?
J. Yeah. You are sleepy.
Me. "What's up?" is a loaded question, and a boring one too so I'll answer the second. I am on the Greyhound going to Philly.
J. For what?
Me. Poetry. The gig came at the perfect time too because I was in Atlanta doing a couple of shows out there and handling some personal business also. I was gonna catch the bus back to Los Angeles but they called and asked if I was available for this show and I was. My only thing about doing this show in Philly on Friday is that I have to be in Cali Saturday morning so they are flying me out after the show Friday night. Cool.
J. How is the bus ride? What is it, eleven hours on the road to Philly?
Me. About that. But the bus is gon have a way of stretching that out to twenty. I don't mind the ride though. I suggested it. I've taken many long rides but not usually this way, and it saved them some money. Besides, and I don't know why, but I sleep well and come up with some real good stories on long bus rides.
J. But what about your back and legs.
Me. Yeah. I'm sore sometimes but I go to the spa and sit in the hot tubs and saunas then stretch real good and I'm straight. Haa get it? I stretch and then I'm straight??
J. Yeah I got it but it wasn't funny.
Me. Yeah well.
J. What time is it anyway?
Me. 1:26 am
J. You ain't tired?
Me. A little. But I like this time on the bus when everybody is sleep. I let myself feel the pattern of bumps in the road, look out at the dark trees, make up stories, pray. Stuff like that.
J. And tonight you're talking to yourself and writing it down.
Me. You always point that out. So what?
J. Yeah. You are sleepy.
Me with Aquiah 3-8-11
Aquiah and I have been friends for over ten years now. Rodzilla asked me recently how many people really know me. I told him four but I know in my heart that I answered too quickly and that number is way too high. Even when I spend time thinking about it, I don't know what the actual number is but Aquiah is definitely high on that list. Currently, we are driving from a weekend in North Carolina back to Atlanta. I'm going to take advantage of this time to capture a quick conversation for the blog.
J. Ok so we have to start with Sweet Daddy.
A. The Sweet Daddy story?
J. Yeah, I had never experienced that before. I ain't never even heard of The United House of Prayer for all People.
(We pull off the freeway into a gas station. When we returned to the car we were on a new topic.)
A. I want my father to read my book.
J. Why?
A. Because I want him to be able to see himself as himself and not as a character he created.
J. Say more.
A. He ran around his whole life and pretended he was a Puerto Rican and how that gave his children an identity crises. I mean even me being in the strip club telling people I was from Brazil. I mean? I want him to see how while he was lying to everybody, everybody was lying to him by not telling him the truth about him. I'm guilty of it too because I've cushioned him.
I think that I might be the only one who could get him to see. I love him but I'm willing to risk him not speaking to me. If the curse started with him, then it has to end with him.
J. Then where did the curse come from? Because he didn't just wake up one day like BAAM!
A. Well, my mother told me that my grandfather was a habitual liar. I don't know about the sex shit.
My mother told me that my grandmother, my father's mother, use to cry to my mother about my father being ashamed of her. Not of her, but of her being a black woman. 'Cause if he was a Puerto Rican then his mother couldn't be black.
I don't know where all the sex shit came from. I don't know if he molested the boys but he could have done it by his over exposure of him being how he is in front of them.
D (brother) has apologized for his behavior. Not that that meant anything 'cause he still fucked his niece. C (brother) didn't even see it (the rampant sexual abuse in the family). He didn't see it till that shit went down at my father's birthday party. Did I ever tell you that?
J. No.
A. My sister P had on a little black skirt with no panties. She took C's son's hand and put it between her legs and came on to him. C finally saw the curse of our family and now he was the victim having experienced it through his son. He was the victim and not the perpetrator this time.
J. So C's son told?
A. She did it in the car while other people were right there.
J. What?
A. Yeah, but this was on the heels of us being at my dad's birthday party and my dad rubbing all over ass!
J. Rubbing on her ass?
A. Yes, he was rubbing on her ass like "Girl, look at all that ass." And she was just like, "Daaaaaady." (Said sweetly)
(Pause)
A. Girl, one time C's wife came to me and asked me if I fucked her husband!
J. Your brother?
A. I let her have it!
J. How old were you?
A. 'Bout fourteen, fifteen.
J. What did you say?
A. I told her "No, I didn't fuck yo husband, but when I was little yo husband taught me how to kiss. No, I didn't fuck him but when I was younger and found out that C was using drugs, I would use sexual energy to get him to stop."
J. How did you use sexual energy to get him to stop?
A. Like we might be having a conversation and I would be like (saying very sweetly) "You know C, I just don't want you out there doin' drugs" and shit like that and I would kiss his face or somethin'.
J. Which one is the brother that died?
A. R. The only brother I ever had that I didn't feel squeamish when he hugged me. The only brother that never made a muthafuckin' sexual advance. Well, G, 'cause G never did that shit either. I wonder how he escaped that shit.
J. Do you talk to your nieces about him?
A. No, it's a lot of them that don't know. Like my bother C's daughter, she don't know nothin' about him.
J. Her grandfather?
A. Well, that's his step granddaughter 'cause that's C's wife's daughter, but he been with her so long that...
J. What would your dad say if he read your book?
A. I don't know what he would say, but I'll tell you what he did say. One time years and years ago when I took Ch to meet him he was so inappropriate. He told her about when he had my mom doing a threesome he said that one pussy is good but two pussies is better.
I went home and wrote him like a five page letter and told him that my first memories of him were of him molesting me and beating my mother. He called me and told me to meet him at a club where he was playing. He said he couldn't believe I would say that. He didn't apologize or anything, he just put it on me. He tried to guilt me.
J. Damn.
A. Yeah, I don't know how red handed he would have to be caught to come out and tell the truth.
J. How old is he now?
A. 'Bout to be eighty-two.
J. Wow.
A. It's funny how my dad will tell me how he saw me strapped to my mother while she was on her motorcycle.
J. Strapped to her?
A. Yeah, she would strap me to her and we would be gone on her bike 'cause she was gon be out when the fuck she had to be out. But he won't talk about how he made my mother have ten abortions before she had me.
I can only imagine how many ass whoppin's my mother took for me. 'Cause she wouldn't let him hit me. The one time he hit me was because I had this Strawberry Shortcake sweater on that I LOVED, and my cousins had moved in and put my shirt on and I was like "Take my muthafuckin' shirt off now!" Then my father came in and slapped me so hard I flew across the room. I think that's when my mother left. You could whip her ass but she didn't let him hit me.
J. Then how did your mother react when you told her that he touched you or whatever?
A. She was mad but I didn't say it like "Mom, this is what happened..." I just kinda said it like she already knew. Like I do with you. I have a hard time believing she didn't she didn't know. But, I mean, what grown ass man takes a bath with his daughter with the door closed?
But you know, my father usta walk around butt ass naked like a nudist?
J. Did your mother ever say anything?
A. 'Bout what?
J. 'Bout him walking around like that.
A. My father was tolerated. I mean, if he wasn't he was gon beat you. So even if she felt a way about it, she could'na done nothin'. She was like, that's just how he do. He walk around with his dick out.
J. Ok so we have to start with Sweet Daddy.
A. The Sweet Daddy story?
J. Yeah, I had never experienced that before. I ain't never even heard of The United House of Prayer for all People.
(We pull off the freeway into a gas station. When we returned to the car we were on a new topic.)
A. I want my father to read my book.
J. Why?
A. Because I want him to be able to see himself as himself and not as a character he created.
J. Say more.
A. He ran around his whole life and pretended he was a Puerto Rican and how that gave his children an identity crises. I mean even me being in the strip club telling people I was from Brazil. I mean? I want him to see how while he was lying to everybody, everybody was lying to him by not telling him the truth about him. I'm guilty of it too because I've cushioned him.
I think that I might be the only one who could get him to see. I love him but I'm willing to risk him not speaking to me. If the curse started with him, then it has to end with him.
J. Then where did the curse come from? Because he didn't just wake up one day like BAAM!
A. Well, my mother told me that my grandfather was a habitual liar. I don't know about the sex shit.
My mother told me that my grandmother, my father's mother, use to cry to my mother about my father being ashamed of her. Not of her, but of her being a black woman. 'Cause if he was a Puerto Rican then his mother couldn't be black.
I don't know where all the sex shit came from. I don't know if he molested the boys but he could have done it by his over exposure of him being how he is in front of them.
D (brother) has apologized for his behavior. Not that that meant anything 'cause he still fucked his niece. C (brother) didn't even see it (the rampant sexual abuse in the family). He didn't see it till that shit went down at my father's birthday party. Did I ever tell you that?
J. No.
A. My sister P had on a little black skirt with no panties. She took C's son's hand and put it between her legs and came on to him. C finally saw the curse of our family and now he was the victim having experienced it through his son. He was the victim and not the perpetrator this time.
J. So C's son told?
A. She did it in the car while other people were right there.
J. What?
A. Yeah, but this was on the heels of us being at my dad's birthday party and my dad rubbing all over ass!
J. Rubbing on her ass?
A. Yes, he was rubbing on her ass like "Girl, look at all that ass." And she was just like, "Daaaaaady." (Said sweetly)
(Pause)
A. Girl, one time C's wife came to me and asked me if I fucked her husband!
J. Your brother?
A. I let her have it!
J. How old were you?
A. 'Bout fourteen, fifteen.
J. What did you say?
A. I told her "No, I didn't fuck yo husband, but when I was little yo husband taught me how to kiss. No, I didn't fuck him but when I was younger and found out that C was using drugs, I would use sexual energy to get him to stop."
J. How did you use sexual energy to get him to stop?
A. Like we might be having a conversation and I would be like (saying very sweetly) "You know C, I just don't want you out there doin' drugs" and shit like that and I would kiss his face or somethin'.
J. Which one is the brother that died?
A. R. The only brother I ever had that I didn't feel squeamish when he hugged me. The only brother that never made a muthafuckin' sexual advance. Well, G, 'cause G never did that shit either. I wonder how he escaped that shit.
J. Do you talk to your nieces about him?
A. No, it's a lot of them that don't know. Like my bother C's daughter, she don't know nothin' about him.
J. Her grandfather?
A. Well, that's his step granddaughter 'cause that's C's wife's daughter, but he been with her so long that...
J. What would your dad say if he read your book?
A. I don't know what he would say, but I'll tell you what he did say. One time years and years ago when I took Ch to meet him he was so inappropriate. He told her about when he had my mom doing a threesome he said that one pussy is good but two pussies is better.
I went home and wrote him like a five page letter and told him that my first memories of him were of him molesting me and beating my mother. He called me and told me to meet him at a club where he was playing. He said he couldn't believe I would say that. He didn't apologize or anything, he just put it on me. He tried to guilt me.
J. Damn.
A. Yeah, I don't know how red handed he would have to be caught to come out and tell the truth.
J. How old is he now?
A. 'Bout to be eighty-two.
J. Wow.
A. It's funny how my dad will tell me how he saw me strapped to my mother while she was on her motorcycle.
J. Strapped to her?
A. Yeah, she would strap me to her and we would be gone on her bike 'cause she was gon be out when the fuck she had to be out. But he won't talk about how he made my mother have ten abortions before she had me.
I can only imagine how many ass whoppin's my mother took for me. 'Cause she wouldn't let him hit me. The one time he hit me was because I had this Strawberry Shortcake sweater on that I LOVED, and my cousins had moved in and put my shirt on and I was like "Take my muthafuckin' shirt off now!" Then my father came in and slapped me so hard I flew across the room. I think that's when my mother left. You could whip her ass but she didn't let him hit me.
J. Then how did your mother react when you told her that he touched you or whatever?
A. She was mad but I didn't say it like "Mom, this is what happened..." I just kinda said it like she already knew. Like I do with you. I have a hard time believing she didn't she didn't know. But, I mean, what grown ass man takes a bath with his daughter with the door closed?
But you know, my father usta walk around butt ass naked like a nudist?
J. Did your mother ever say anything?
A. 'Bout what?
J. 'Bout him walking around like that.
A. My father was tolerated. I mean, if he wasn't he was gon beat you. So even if she felt a way about it, she could'na done nothin'. She was like, that's just how he do. He walk around with his dick out.
Me with me part 6 10-29-10
* Morning again.
J* Yeah, early morning.
* What are you doing?
J* I put a dvd in my computer and I'm working on my show for Saturday.
* No you're not you're typing this blog.
(We laugh.)
J* True. But before that I was working on the show.
* What's there to add?
J* Not really add, just kinda put together. The show is still a puzzle and each piece works but I keep changing where I want what where. A part of me feels like this will go on until I'm actually on stage.
* Do you usually go through all this before a show?
J* Umm, I have my process but no, it doesn't look like this always.
* So why the change for this show?
J* I think because it's going to be a more personal show. A lot of me. Me. I tell a lot of stories about other folks and...
* Really, other folks?
J* Well, ok, sometimes I just say they are about other folks but really they are me. But this time there is a lot of me. Admittedly me.
* That's not that new though. You've done that before.
J* Yeah.
* So what else is new?
J* There will be a lot of people who have never seen me perform before. Either have never seen me or haven't seen me in a long time. I'm a little nervous about that. I don't know why. But I am a bit.
* You know how I feel about the phrase I don't know.
J* I do hide behind "I don't know" a lot. You're right. It's my way of being lazy. "I don't know" is a good way for me to not do the work in my head and work through whatever I'm saying I don't know about.
* So do the work.
J* I'm nervous because the show comes at a time when I'm doing a lot of work on myself. No matter how much I try to hide behind a character, the really sore spots of me will show through.
* They always do.
J* Yeah, but this time on purpose. Artists are weird.
* I was going to say that.
J* We put ourselves in positions to show our weaknesses.
* Why?
J* To get stronger. To help other people get stronger. One time I asked V. Kali why artists go through so much...stuff. She said to me "because you'll tell it."
* You tell that story a lot.
J* When I need to hear it.
(Pause.)
* You there.
J* I'm here.
* What are you doin' now?
J* I think I'm gonna check my facebook again and go to sleep.
* Already?
J* Yeah, I'm getting a headache and I have to get up early.
* Why?
J* The headache or get up early?
* Both.
J* The headache probably because I had such a cold the last couple of days and I drank some whisky to dry out the mucus. It worked and I had a good nap but...
And I'm getting up early because I need to catch the train to Long Beach to meet my mother in the morning and then I have a lot to do at the theatre.
* Get some rest. Love you.
J* Love you too.
J* Yeah, early morning.
* What are you doing?
J* I put a dvd in my computer and I'm working on my show for Saturday.
* No you're not you're typing this blog.
(We laugh.)
J* True. But before that I was working on the show.
* What's there to add?
J* Not really add, just kinda put together. The show is still a puzzle and each piece works but I keep changing where I want what where. A part of me feels like this will go on until I'm actually on stage.
* Do you usually go through all this before a show?
J* Umm, I have my process but no, it doesn't look like this always.
* So why the change for this show?
J* I think because it's going to be a more personal show. A lot of me. Me. I tell a lot of stories about other folks and...
* Really, other folks?
J* Well, ok, sometimes I just say they are about other folks but really they are me. But this time there is a lot of me. Admittedly me.
* That's not that new though. You've done that before.
J* Yeah.
* So what else is new?
J* There will be a lot of people who have never seen me perform before. Either have never seen me or haven't seen me in a long time. I'm a little nervous about that. I don't know why. But I am a bit.
* You know how I feel about the phrase I don't know.
J* I do hide behind "I don't know" a lot. You're right. It's my way of being lazy. "I don't know" is a good way for me to not do the work in my head and work through whatever I'm saying I don't know about.
* So do the work.
J* I'm nervous because the show comes at a time when I'm doing a lot of work on myself. No matter how much I try to hide behind a character, the really sore spots of me will show through.
* They always do.
J* Yeah, but this time on purpose. Artists are weird.
* I was going to say that.
J* We put ourselves in positions to show our weaknesses.
* Why?
J* To get stronger. To help other people get stronger. One time I asked V. Kali why artists go through so much...stuff. She said to me "because you'll tell it."
* You tell that story a lot.
J* When I need to hear it.
(Pause.)
* You there.
J* I'm here.
* What are you doin' now?
J* I think I'm gonna check my facebook again and go to sleep.
* Already?
J* Yeah, I'm getting a headache and I have to get up early.
* Why?
J* The headache or get up early?
* Both.
J* The headache probably because I had such a cold the last couple of days and I drank some whisky to dry out the mucus. It worked and I had a good nap but...
And I'm getting up early because I need to catch the train to Long Beach to meet my mother in the morning and then I have a lot to do at the theatre.
* Get some rest. Love you.
J* Love you too.
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