Hold the Secret Close - I Hear You Say

Friday, Siobhan and I joined Dom, Theresa, Sharkey and Terry for dinner at an Italian restaurant for dinner, where once again the words, "I don't want birthday presents" were ignored just because. Sharkey is a fine-smelling, fastidious gentleman. This is something we both appreciate about him. I brought him a hand soap and lotion set ideal for the kitchen of any fine-smelling, fastidious gentleman, and because Dom has been mocking Sharkey for years for the fastidiousness, I figured we're all already over the abuse and could just enjoy the herbal-scented soft-skinned fastidiousness of our manliest man-friend. Then we went to a filthy bar in Bound Brook to see a band.

In 1996, I started seeing Sharkey in the bar, and when I say "the bar" I mean one particular filthy bar in New Brunswick, where he and I eventually worked - but this is years before that. One September night, I looked across the barroom and said to Lala, "If that guy has a brain, there is no God." Weeks later, I was sick and depressed, and let me tell you that did great things to my looks, when one morning, my horoscope said the universe was giving me a new playmate. Before lunch, Sharkey walked across the library's flagstone patio toward me, hand extended, saying, "I've seen you at the bar. My name is Sharkey and I thought I should introduce myself." I stared at him and giggled. He'd look odd in high heels and a cotton tail.

The Rail is a terrible, filthy bar with a strange layout and a teeth-optional clientele. When Siobhan and I follow Sharkey into the bar a band called Dirty Dick is playing so loud we walk through, out to the back and hope some day our hearing returns. The Rail was or is also a train station and trains on the Monmouth line fifteen feet behind my back interfere less with conversation than the band inside the bar, and when I say "the bar" I mean the bar I wouldn't set foot in without six of my bar-fighting friends. I turn around and a guy whose face is full of metal is three feet from my face and I'm overjoyed. His name is Mike, he is always smiling and he hugs me so hard my feet leave the floor. We are joined by our friend Jason from New Brunswick who bartended with Sharkey and me for years. I am content to sit quietly with these people because I love them so and have for such a long time, but that makes for lousy company. So we shout about Monty Python and our plans and meet people and the second band tunes up and starts to play. Matt, Mike, Chris and Erol are McMe, the latest incarnation of a series of kickass bands by mostly the same guys and a few other guys here and there. The sound is muddy and the mix is bad but it doesn't matter because we know many of the songs anyway. After their set, my throat is scratchy, so Siobhan and I say goodnight. This is important because the carefully considered recording at Altrok studios was ahead of me and being able to talk in recording is - you know - key.

Yesterday, I dressed up in sweats that barely touched my frame, drove down to Freehold in a pounding rain and Sean recorded the piece I've been fretting about for over a month. I hate the sound of my own voice and feel sorry for people who listen to it day after day. Some people really enjoy recording. Also: some people enjoy having sex in giant animal costumes, and I'm not one of them, either. Suffice it to say, as little as I enjoyed the recording, the playing back, the editing and the playing back some more, three CDs are sitting on my lap and I'm going to mail the mp3 to Feminist Studies for their podcast project.

In any review of my own work, I don't see where I succeed. I see my failures. In the playing back, I heard things I could do differently but even so perfection is not attainable. The recording is not what I would have hoped for, but that is exactly the feeling that prevents me from taking on projects anymore. The piece should have been recorded in front of an audience because I am best in front of an audience but live recording has its problems and I have stage fright. So it's done. I'm so glad it's done.

Now, for my next project I will buy an air conditioner and I will succeed. Will too!