It's always nerve wracking to perform when you haven't in a while. No matter how familiar I am with being on stage, or how natural it feels once I've settled up there, the few minutes before I know my name is going to be called feels slow and hot.
Last night I had the pleasure of headlining Verses for the second time, and although I had written out a set that includes poems from a new sequence and a selection of politically influenced pieces that felt fitting for the precedented times we live in, once I was standing there with eyes looking to be entertained, I scrapped it for the fun, juicy ones that make people laugh and cheer.
I think there's something to be said for working a crowd when you're an artist. Sure, it could be a need for validation, feeling like I'm doing something right, but it's also exciting to anticipate what people are going to like, what's going to hit them where they want it to hurt.
Writing is pigeonholed as solitary, but it's also a grasp at connection. We put these words down to say 'this is how I feel, do you feel this way too?'. I think we all get a bit too competetive with our feelings. They become so overwhelming we gatekeep them, but we're only really allowing them to stay latched to us.
At Verses I abandoned my set and lamented on love and loss and the concept of how many times a Catholic Grandma may talk to Jesus - and it was glorious.