HOME=SICK

I was SO glad to get home last week . Been gone two months , was totally homesick … the kind of homesick where that last hour on the plane is the most desperate crawl of slow ticking eternity. I had a sore throat and was very tired and just wanted to get into bed with my sweetie , show him how much I missed him …. then show him again… ( I REALLY missed him…)then sleep in the sweetsoft embrace of home sweet home . Finally able to relax , my body went into full meltdown mode and the flu got me .

The flu …. how common . I only get it every couple of years , so I suppose because I enjoy such great health most of the time , when I DO finally succumb , I get the BIG ONE , the one that kills babies and old people … the one that goes up to 11 .

Right now , my bones feel like bashed up hockey sticks , my face is a grayish horror mask , my esophagus feels like I ate a big crunchy bag of glass , and , once in awhile , I kick into a coughing fit that sets my lungs on fire . And , for good measure , if I am unsuccessful in hacking up the chunky dark planks of phlegm that come in shocking sizes and colors …. I puke .

I have never been sexier .

I sometimes can sing when I’m ill , but with this , what little sound comes out sounds like a bag of toucans being pushed into a wood chipper . Not pretty . So I’ve had to cancel a handfull of appearances and meetings this week and am resigned to soaking my blankets with stinking fever sweat and exploring the endless duh of cable television while I wallow in self pity .

I don’t know about you , but when I’m sick , I feel useless , pathetic and SO sorry for myself I can barely do anything . But this week marks the one year countdown to the craziest endeavor of my career to date . In a mad , overly caffeinated fit of bravado , I agreed to write and produce an autobiographical one woman show for Portland Center Stage . I thought ” Sure! I’m a walking one woman show … I’ve been doing it for YEARS …. piece o cake … right ? ” WEll , as soon as I agreed to it , I basically fell into random fits of panic and hair pulling on myself moaning ” WHY DID I AGREE TO THIS ?????!!!! I HAVE TO BE NUTS!!!! ” It’s one thing to rock out and run my mouth in front of 800 people at a Balls show , but to captivate an intimate crowd of 160 THEATER people , 8 shows a week , telling old scary truths about MYSELF ?! Not the big fearless sex thug rantings of a rock banshee , but the decidedly UNcool and at times sad story about a lonely kid trying to find her way to herself , by herself , through many missteps , mishaps , fuck ups and freak outs . The idea simply terrifies me and I have actually lost some sleep over it .

A good friend of mine told me once ( and reminds me often ) if something scares the shit out of you artistically , that is EXACTLY what you should be doing . It’s why, I imagine , I ultimately agreed to do this . I was going to call it “Big , Fat , Crazy , Bitch Whore .” But later decided on the simpler , and more theater friendly , “Crazy Enough” . It isn’t going to be my life’s story , but it will be stories from my life that bring me to present day . I’m a singer , first and foremost , and I absolutely credit music with saving my life , so there will be plenty of music … mine and
others . Knowing me , there will be inevitable tangents , rife with explicative filled rants , truths and opinions …. and what else ? I haven’t the slightest . I’m just now getting well enough to write this .

I’m still terrified , and I still think I’m nuts … but here goes .

See you out there .
xoxoStorm

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