A friend encouraged me to come perform in NYC. She would help produce it. She works in both the Broadway and television world. Between us I hope we could fill a small club. I ended up writing a biographical cabaret that used the jazz to punctuate the narrative often in ironic sardonic ways.
I used points accrued by my Amex card (who says debt doesn’t pay?) for the flight. I would stay with a friend in Brooklyn. I had heard Brooklyn was now cool and hip. Turns out Bedford Stuyvesant was only cool because there was snow. I asked my friend where I might get a cup of coffee. She said not too far—five blocks away. Herself not a drinker of that elixir I tried to explain to her I would need coffee to get to that coffee.
Doing a show in NYC was a lifetime dream. The last two years have been challenging on many fronts most notably financially stressful. I have not quite crawled out of that but I needed to push myself to do this show. My fear of failure was off the charts. Holding an audience’s attention for an hour seemed like I had come down with a new disease: Narcissistic Insanity.
I only have a few very good friends. I am an acquired taste…either you adore me or you’d rather have the chicken. The few friends I have are educated and sophisticated. They would also never hesitate to gently ask if I could perhaps get the airline ticket switched so I might have a nice trip to
