Post-Mortified

I'm writing this before the show for you to read afterwords if you decide to look me up. First of all,
thanks for coming! It would have been even MORE embarrassing to be reading out of my diary
onstage ALONE!

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Not A Potter

It's been fun, going back to the 70's, looking up old friends, and reading my old diary. It's really something to see how life paths and choices showed up so early. It's also clear how some paths were NOT meant to be...

Here's a tiny diary story from the ceramics class I took in summer school, between junior high and high school. 

Wednesday, June 23, 10:05 PM (hot pink)

I’m making Mom what I call a “Thud Bell”! It’s made out of clay in three pieces and when it “rings” it thuds!

Wednesday, June 30, 10:10 PM (black)

I got my first project back in design structure and I really dig it, but I only got a C+ on it because (I think) he didn’t like it because it had that rough unfinished look.

Tuesday, July 6, 9:25 PM (blue)

In Design structure my bowl cracked.

Tuesday, July 27, 10:10 PM (olive green)

            Dear Diary

You know what makes me sick? The beautiful drape shape I made is missing. BOULDERDASH!!!!!!!!!!!

the Rusty Bucket

I dream "The Rusty Bucket" and it's such a great name I look it up (dream google) to see if anyone else is using it. I find pages of notebook paper with a davinci-esque sketch in brown ink of a rusty bucket and my name, very small, and there is Brett Palm's name, too, the ideal boy of my childhood, who was often beside me, thanks to alphabetical order. The rusty latch of my childhood diary, the rusty bucket lowered into the dream well, tingly taste of cold metal,  brick-orange flakes, and rippling reflection in black water... so this is where they keep the poetry.

Is it mean to my 14 year old self to read out of her diary to strangers, who will laugh?

I just know that when I did this before, to a small bunch at The Whistle Stop in South Park, that it was very satisfying, especially when I read, "why am I talking to a book like it was a person? oh well, it's almost like talking to someone." Then to look up to a room full of real people, smiling and listening.

I asked Susan if anyone has shame attacks after they perform and she said no, they're euphoric.