Comfort Zones

December 15, 2012

I am beginning to notice who I am without Peter. Much of me is masked over with doubt, insecurity/anxiety and yes, my dear ones, I’m afraid, fear. “Melanie, if you are afraid of fear does that make you extra fearful or is ‘afraid’ in this context more an expression...i.e. I’m afraid so?” ~ There, I did it again. Irony. Crazy. Is this what happens when you don’t go to a therapist? You just continually bore others with your self-therapizing? (I like the word, leave me alone.) There, I did it again. Leave me alone. It’s so aquarian ~ I vant to be alone. Was that Greta Garbo or Marianne Faithfull? I can’t remember. They morph. At least Greta died first. So many didn’t wait until I died. They just grabbed essence and as if’d it, as if were theirs. It’s okay. Some know. I know. And anyway, I started out snatching essences of Edith Piaf, Billie Holiday, Joan Baez and Brenda Lee. But it was more in the spirit of influence rather than imitation.

Interview question: “How did you develop your style?”
Answer: “I went out to imitate Edith Piaf, Billie Holiday, Brenda Lee and Joan Baez, and got it wrong.”

I will be interviewed today by a Polish man doing a book on Woodstock. Do we need another book on Woodstock? The last people to ask for any sort of real truth or historical accuracy are the performers. The ones you need to ask are the 500,000 who were at Woodstock. But you would’ve needed to ask them the day before, the day of and/or the day after. If you missed that small window, it’s just intellectualizing or mythicizing ~ I tell and retell my little Woodstock universe story. Yes, I performed a set at Woodstock and recall feelings about events. Joan Baez brought me tea.

So, should I tell you what I’ve noticed? One glaring realization ~ people who had an affinity for Peter don’t really like me. I mean me, not “Melanie”. And that in itself is a long, long story for another time ~ not now, my dear ones ~ I was Peter’s Melanie. I am still faithfully your Melanie, but now emerging...that little voice is beginning to roar, coming to a theatre pretty far away, yet closer than your comfort zone.

Speaking of comfort zones, did I tell you I’m doing a live stream, audio-visual performance on December 20th, 5 o’clock, eastern standard time? People are confused about the time zones. It is confusing ~ why can’t it be one time, all over the world? (One language would have been a good call too.) So, it would just be lighter or darker at 5 p.m. for some. Yes, 5, eastern standard time. I’m not going to confuse you further by telling it on my time zone. Just know it’s 5, eastern standard time, that’s all you need to know. It will automatically translate that time into yours. In L.A., it will be 2 p.m. In Europe, it will be 11 p.m. (darker). I would prefer it to be darker where I am but it’s 5 p.m., eastern standard time. Your delivery system will bring it to you and announce it in your time zone. When you buy your ticket, you will be told in your time zone, automatically ~ like your phone. If you fly to another place, your phone knows! It switches all by itself ~ for me, my dear ones, a profound mystery, no matter how it’s explained. And the same sort as where does weight go when you lose it? Don’t bother answering and why don’t we speak the same language? Again, don’t bother. I know there are linguistics and people who will explain but I mean why? Really. It’s hard enough to get along with the same language. Throw hundreds into the mix. I sense the answer somewhere in that Tower of Babel story. The part that gets left out. My dear ones, it’s right there in the part that gets left out.

Come and see me on December 20th, 5 p.m., eastern standard time,