2003-09-14 – 12:51 a.m.
I started this blog as to mock blogs, but today I feel like being myself and writing about something real.

The Naked Show 2003

Wow, that was surreal and real and so many things. Driving home with the wind in my face and songs in my ears was the closest thing to how I remember feeling when I first got high. I felt alert and so much was going on that it was like nothing was going on. Just life, minute by minute. All explanations seem awkward and fake, but I feel like trying anyway.

So, my day was spent in anticipation and worry and nervousness. When I first tried stand up comedy, and then the second time I tried two years later, I tried to control all things that I could to quell the unbelievable anxiety. I ate early knowing my appetite would be gone; I planned my outfits down to the underwear.

Today was the same, even though I have now performed comedy every week for over two years. But, the “outfit” was my naked body, since the plan was to be onstage with absolutely only my words out there. FUCK! How do you prepare for that? I showered twice, once in the morning and later just before the show. I loofahed. I exfoliate scrubbed. I trimmed. I tweezed. I had the long hair on my head highlighted and trimmed two weeks before, so it would be comfortably coiffed. I looked in the mirror and thought about backing out. Ultimately, I put concealer and foundation on my bikini line to hide redmarks and bumps still lingering from a stupid shaving blunder a month ago.

Then, I went to the show. A private party and a benefit for an organization for which my friend works, this show was his idea and his to host.

I guess one of the oddest things about the show for me was that the combination of nerves was askew from what I’m usually nervous about. By planning my outfits, etc., before most shows, I’m pretty confident that I look OK and my nervousness is focused on whether my jokes are good enough (and mostly my self doubt says they’re not even when my mind thinks they are). Naked, I pretty much had to believe that the reverse was true — I looked stupid, but my jokes would carry me through.

Since I truly stiffen up in fear a lot on stage, which has been my biggest struggle, the whole thing had failure written all over for me in so many ways.

Being naked and performing is essentially a classic nightmare. For me, performing already is too often a nightmare of nervousness and anxiety for me. Anxiety I can’t explain or control or monitor in any helpful way just happens. When that happens, I get on stage and everything isn’t necessarily bad, but it’s off and not as funny as it should be.

So, I really should have crashed and burned tonight, self emoliated in epic proportions.

But, I didn’t. I came out and told my jokes and felt fine.

Or, I didn’t feel anything, really. I was in the moment to a weird nth level. At no time during my set did I consciously (read self-consciously) consider my nudity or the worth of my words or all of the landmarks that usually throw me into over analysis and frozen flat unfunniness.

I swang for the fences and played like a pro.

It was organic and cool and just was.

The entire ride home, I just felt the wind and that weird disconnected view of the world that was the bliss of smoking pot when I was a kid. And just like being high, I didn’t really want to hang at the party making small talk. Tonight I wanted only the warmth of the hot tub, followed by the coolness of the night air, followed by the satisfaction of a cold drink. It was all about sensation.

And, I was so contented to be back in my car alone. Riding in a convertible, too fast. Listening to a CD mixed and given to me by a guy I like being with (how could you not like a guy who gives you CDs labeled Girl Power Volumes 1, 2 and 3.

The lights the moon the night Route 9 at over 60 mph the city. Maybe that’s what happy is supposed to feel like.

And now as I write this and all the way driving home, I feel physically tired. The good kind of body dragging physical exhaustion you feel when you are fuck drunk. That weird, calm, smiling tired when your head hits the pillow because there can be no more orgasms. You and someone you like have used them all up and used all of the energy you could muster and now just collapse into sleep.

I feel that good, warm tired.

So, that’s the Naked Comedy Show.

Now, let’s hope I can bring this feeling back.

D