august index | NEXT new york city. fort/sidewalk. the seventeenth. august nine nine. 'has anyone seen my mojo?' original plan: bus or train down to the city. slip in. play. slip out. last minute plan: a production. people. schedules. getting bigger. and bigger. so nervous. so stomach knots. so get short. sigh. ok: step outside of it. look at positive. 'look, bryan. the peeps are here. in the house. mad support. all good.' still: butterflies. 'relax. relax. just reeeelaaaaxxxxx.' nope. no can do. self-psych be damned. a mistake to start with anymore? perhaps. voice not yet warmed up. hittin the notes. but not nailing 'em. help. mommy. in my left ear: shouts of 'preach brother.' and 'right on.' from non-african mouths. there's one at every show. dontchya know. well-intentioned... foolishness. (and: did she really just say 'marry me?' she signs the mailing list later. but for now, i think she's mocking me. maybe she really said 'you're scaring me.' makes more sense, right?) it's not until 'camera' - five songs into the set - that i hit the stride. feel it. throat is there now. idea: close with six and cycle. make up for shaky start. uh-oh: cut off. mc calls for one more. (no lach to watch my back tonite. damn.) so just 'six.' no 'cycle.' which leaves me no options. i must destroy it. no prisoners. (ha!) hang a bit for them keener boys. yeah. then me and the droogies head up avenue a. decide on milk bar. dark. quiet. 'casino' on the video screens. barry white in the speakers. i'm still shaky. it wasn't as good as april. as perfect as april. has anyone seen my mojo? NEXT - ALBANY - CAFE WEB all stuff copyright 1999 bryan paul thomas bryanthomas.com