From Medakse@concentric.net Thu Apr 29 02:01:40 1999 Date: Wed, 19 Nov 1997 02:35:55 -0800 From: Twilight Newsgroups: alt.gothic Subject: my first poetry reading (muse) so there I was last Thursday, finally taking the guts and initiative to do what I have always feared to do: read my poetry before strangers. Now, as some of you know, I have bared my soul with my poetry on my web page many a time, hell, the majority of my page is poetry. However, I've never not once not ever read my poetry outloud to people I didn't know IRL. Well....... *sigh* I did it. After we left the coffeehouse, we were going to go out to the goth night at Luna, so I was dressed up, had my makeup on, everything at the coffeehouse. I just didn't feel like going back to campus afterwards, since both Insomkneeacks and Luna are downtown. Well, I was the only female reading that night, which I found to be strange, but I'll deal with it. I also had the unfortunate luck to go on right after the guy who did a monologue on women and their stupid shoes (which I embarrassed Zach by yelling out "I don't like shoes and I'm a woman!" oh well, he got over it). My name was called. I walked to the front. I began to feel very strange, like everything was in a fog and I was seeing myself from everyone else's eyes. Very detached. very nervous. After reading three poems, all of which are angst-ridden, one which has been posted to a.g "With Regrets to my Muse", and the last one which I read on request of my friend Jake, who loves it more than anything in the world. It's not even on my webpage, it's that personal. But, since he asked, I decided to do it. It's called "In the throbbing blackness of my mind", the poem I wrote immediately after I broke up with Asshole. I was so nervous, my voice was shaking. Me, the person who can't be shut up, who talks incessantly, who was in speech for 4 years. What the fuck? I realized afterwards, after I sat down, after the polite applause, that I was seeing myself through the audience's eyes. I was too fucking gothic. There I was, in all my black velvet lies and skin smeared with kohl, reading angsty poetry, not a week after Channel 9 here did a 3 day special on goth, how all goths drink blood and are depressed and suicidal and 15 yrs old in love with vampires. That's what they thought of me. I was completely depressed (not like that wasn't expected or anything, I *am* goth, you know). I was despondent. I was embarrassed. For the first time in my life I was ashamed of my writings. That killed me a little. My writing has always been my escape, my personal diary, everything that happens to me eventually ends up in a poem. To be ashamed of my work was like being ashamed of myself. I swore I would never do it again. But... after much coaxing, much reassuring, and many promises that all my friends will be there to back me up, I decided to try it one more time this Thursday. But I'm changing the type of stuff I'm reading. And I'm leaving the makeup off. Why? I don't know why. I'm not ashamed of who I am, the same as I shouldn't be ashamed of what I write. But I think this time I don't want who I am to influence what I write. Does that make any sense? Probably not. Don't worry about it. Just smile and nod. And wish me luck Whips and Kisses--- Twilight, wearing her glasses cuz her left contact ripped in half, and smoking marlboro lights cuz that's all she has, and there is no cash to go buy benson and hedges. *sigh* -- ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "The city of lies begins to collapse. The shadow-woman weeps to see it disappearing, though it has cost her so dearly to live there" -Melissa Green, _Color is the Suffering of Light_ Midnight's Child: http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Studios/2052/