Yesterday, my friend Jim Stahl and I were talking about going sailing, and Jim mentioned he might be going to The Moth in New York instead. We’d already talkwed about my snootyness around telling “true life” stories, but as soon as I saw the theme, I started to make my plans to go. Jim, on the other hand, changed his mind, and will be off on his boat in the middle of Narragansett Bay while I’m sweltering on a bus in New York City traffic.
The goal: Get to the Moth, get in line, pay $7 and hope that I get to tell my story.
The theme is “Father” and I’m planning on telling, “The Boy Who Hated Potato Latkes” (though I won’t call it that.) My agent wants me to do it to promote my new album, “A Holiday Present.” So, I’m spending some bucks and a day on that one-in-a -million (more like 5 in 100) shot of fame in New York City. Worth a try.
And of course I packed too much. My backpack weighs a ton. I’ve got the following:
- Change of clothes (tee shirt, socks, briefs)
- Sleeping shorts
- Dopp Kit with: shaving stuff, medicines, deodorants, bandaids
- Deck of cards, mini cribbage board, Cosmic Wimpout game
- Books: The Girl Who Played with Fire and Guerilla Marketing for Writers
- Pens and brush pen
- NY Times and Providence Journal
- Lunch (PB&J Sandwich, chips, candy bar, water)
- Business cards, bookmarks, story download gift cards,
- laptop (writing on it) and charger (no outlets on bus)
- Phone (forgot the charger!)
- Harmonicas (key of C and Gm(h))
- thumb drive, headphones