4:46 p.m. - December 08, 2003
It is easier to expose myself, be vulnerable, to strangers than those who know me slightly. It's easier to run away and disappear when there are no strings - lancets? - or awkward unease lingering post-vulnerability. A roomful of strangers is a million times less threatening than one or two people who know me in the audience and I suspect it's simply a manifestation of doom-and-gloom what-if-they-don't-like-my-poetry nonsense - and this is where I should interject an affirmation to lessen the spell of automatic thoughts: If my poetry was mundane or a dime a dozen, it would not a) gather much interest; b) be published; c) be invited to rear its face at readings. This sounds like a serious case of self-aggrandizement but take that! automatic thoughts - and my reticence is little more than people knowing too much about me and in my writing, everything comes out neatly cloaked and metaphorized enough so as to make people unsure about conclusions.
Dr. M. & Crew from ye olde alma mater will be there and that's more than enough pressure and expectations to succeed; why bring Ryan II whom I'm still unsure I want to keep around in my life? Diffusing my poetry is akin to diluting its worth and I keep all things closely controlled.
I don't know what I'm scared of. I mean let's face it - I am compelled to talk about the issues and desperately want to, yet the words just cannot operationalize except via poetry. Again, those worries: What if nobody listens, what if it's a shrug, an Huh. Interesting non-chalance, not worth somebody's time.
I will not back out regardless.
Ryan II doesn't qualify yet for the inner sanctum. I must learn tact when communicating this.