open mic-rocosm

I've spent the past few months immersing myself in the San Francisco open mic scene, as a storyteller, musician, essayist, and poet.
It's a strange and wonderful world. It's art free of the corruptions of commerce, and at its best fosters a spirit of community that is jarringly absent from most "professional" art. Applause and love rain down, even (and sometimes especially) on failure. Open mics are also a reminder that those who "succeed" in the arts are often not superior to those who don't, just luckier (or more willing to compromise). At almost any open mic, there's usually one act that's as good as anything professional, and in big cities, sometimes even several.
Showing appreciation can be tricky, though. Talking with a performer that same night can lead to obligatory or insincere praise. I try to get around that by saving my compliments for the following week. Any praise someone remembers to say a week later, i know comes from a more sincere place. Yet that solution has a flaw - receiving immediate open mic affirmation of any sort can be such a gift. For the insecure, a single encouraging word can be indescribably healing. I would hazard to guess that few speakers feel no stage fright...and some are no doubt almost overwhelmed. For the first time in my life, i can relate. As an actor, i was able to perform in front of thousands with nary a hint of insecurity, or do one-person shows without any trace of fright. But at open mics...the combination of my emotional walls being so decimated and the nakedness of performing your own words, has given me genuine stage fright. Apparently i cover it well, but it's not easy. Truly, my mild depression and PTSD push my brain into thinking i'm talentless and people loathe me, even when there's ample evidence to the contrary. I'm also vaguely uncomfortable with any flattery or attention, because i want my performances to be about the words, not ME (in this culture of individualism, such hopes are doomed to failure). I've performed long enough that i can laugh at myself as i feel all these things, but most don't have the luxury of my experience. So more and more, i err on the side of giving others immediate affirmation.
It might also surprise many to know that i feel competitive. There's a part of me that considers ANY night a failure if i'm not clearly the most brilliant act. Perverse self-absorption? Yes...and bear in mind that i've spent my adulthood pursuing spiritual humility - and succeeding. No, really! For years, constantly manifesting the thought that i'm no better or more worthy than anyone, ever shifting attention away from myself (perhaps even embracing those attitudes to a fault). Yet the ego-glorification that plagues our culture is so pervasive, and the insecurity this society pounds into our heads is just hellaciously powerful. The notion that we're forever writing the "story" of our lives, always measuring ourselves against everyone else...in this predatory world, i can't keep those demons entirely at bay (even monastery inmates probably fall short: "I can meditate on one foot WAY longer than you slackers!" - maybe hermits...).
Not that i feel competitive in the front of my mind - just in the back, in those places nobody talks about.
It's also funny to realize how many spoken word artists are at kind of awful at delivering their own words! The truth is that some poetry is better read than heard, plus a lot of poets can be monotone or too rapid, which can lead to audiences showing intent faces, but not actually following a damn thing! The funniest example of this was when a poet in the middle of eight short pieces started reciting one he'd already done...and most people had no idea! I wasn't sure for a few seconds, myself. So yes, i too can be guilty of nodding my head and snapping my fingers, while having no clue what the speaker was talking about.
And sometimes the length of the events gets a little oppressive, because i hate the thought of time lost when i could be creating something new, or just doing something more intensely personal or enjoyable. There are performers who do their bit and then skedaddle, but i've got too much devotion to community to take such a mercenary attitude. It's a fine line...there are occasions when extenuating circumstances can prompt an early exit from me, and those circumstances aren't always urgent, or even anywhere close. But i do my best to support all the other performers any time i ask them to listen to me. That's not always a sacrifice...although there is a level (slightly misanthropic, artistically unimpressed, hyper-aware of my own mortality, sex-starved) on which i'm bored by just about anyone. The social aspect can be nice, though - right now these folk are pretty much the only "family" i have.
Here then, my weekly cycle of mics. There are a handful of once-a-month events too, but this is the heart of it.
SUNDAY - Madrone Bar, a music-only venue, which is where my stage fright is most acute, because i'm adding the element of singing and playing an instrument simultaneously - i had NO idea how stupifyingly hard that is! All i'm aiming for as a ukulele-plucker is "adequate" - i don't kid myself, if i win crowds, it will be because of my words and voice. For now it just feels like i'm hitting auto-pilot, and hoping to not wreck. It's exciting to think of how my songs might one day kill, when i'm totally relaxed...
WEDNESDAY - Sacred Grounds, the oldest poetry open mic in the city. Poetry is probably the least of my writerly talents, at least when measured against its most elaborate intricacies. My stuff can be searing and naked, or just funny and entertaining (which makes it relateable to non-poets)...but some poetry snobs might justifiably poo-poo me. I sometimes wonder why i attend poetry-only events at all, as it's never going to take the lead in my "success" as a writer. But there's something beautiful and pure about poets, they're generally more open and interesting than other artists. I come off as quite young in this crowd, which i've learned to live with. Sacred Grounds has the greatest family feeling of any open mic i know.
THURSDAY - Bazaar Cafe, which is mostly music. I do stories and songs. There's no mic, nor any need for one. The energy combines the youthfulness of International Cafe with the reverence of Sacred Grounds. There is no small satisfaction knowing that my stories have been one of the few spoken acts here to resonate with the musicians as much as their own.
FRIDAY AFTERNOON - Mutiny Radio Common Thread, which features music, interviews, and spoken word of political/social relevance. This is where i do my essays, and the affirmation has been wonderful. I've started to do songs too, because my songs will have more resonance in the world at large. Wasn't leonard cohen just a poet who got tired of poverty?
FRIDAY EVENING - International Cafe, the most unruly (yet sometimes most beautiful) beast of all. The crowd is huge, with many non-performers, some of whom are well-lubricated. I do stories and songs, avoiding all but the most juicy essays or poems. In a venue where spoken word can get its ass kicked, being able to hold an audience spellbound, is so sweet. Having an ADD-prone crowd hang on your every word...there might be no better social feeling in the world.