I also thought about titling this post “Something about the first time” or maybe “What would Janis do?”

If there are lingering Catholics up all in the virtual house of this ‘blog, as the kids might say if they were sadly as deludedly hip as me, y’all better pluck out your own eyeballs to stop reading and not throw yourself into a vatful of occasion of sin. Actually, what I’m really hoping is that you keep reading, and in this week’s Boston Herald the headline will read something like “Science Proves Self-Righteousness Causes Addlepated Melonheads to Explode,” only briefer and in giant letters.

Pretty much this little experiment in writing here started out with me throwing sumpin’ up on the web after the first time I performed naked. (If you go to that link, ignore the bottom bits. They are incoherent rants of an imbecilic woman who has since been subdued by force.)

The first show was maybe the first, true, soulful, sensual, sexual kiss. The one with someone you really liked that literally took your breath away and for days after all you could think was “Wow! That’s what it’s all about.” Something primal that felt like nothing that had come before it.

This one was different. Maybe it’s the long-term committed friendship, lover, flame relationship, but well into the game. It is wonderful, because this is the person who understands you and with whom intimacy is remarkable every damn fucking day. And, sex is what it is. It can be rocking or happy and sweet or rushed or maybe even a bit angry or tired or blue, but definitely less miraculous than the first touch, the first time when it truly mattered.

This show was like that. I was comfortable, I was happy, I think I performed OK, and I am very happy to have done a return engagement. But, it was what it was. Not so much bottle rockets and sparklers, it was a foot rub or a cup of coffee brought to you in bed.

Note to self: If you sign on to do a show that ratchets up the nervous energy, drive alone. I revel in chilling out in my car with the stereo at maximum volume, but tonight it was not meant to be.

I want to congratulate by name those involved, but I hate to randomly out people who might want to keep their identities undercover (ha ha get it nudity-undercover). Everyone did a great job (no surprise) and the show was fun. Feel free to write your identity in the comment space and out yourself.

As for what would Janis do? She’d be down with letting a friend and fellow performer use his camera phone to catch a glimpse of her goods. So, somewhere on the WWW, I might be channeling a little Janis.