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2002-01-27 | 12:51 a.m.

Three times today I heard it, something less than a voice in my head. An idea, really, but like a snake in the grass that jiggers your heart when you catch a glimpse of it: (You'd be better off dead.) The certainty felt watertight, as in a nightmare. The third time I hung my head and cried.

Yesterday Christopher asked me, via the mailing list, if I would sing a small part of a song that he is recording. He wrote, "I've never heard you hit a bad note." Very flattering request, but complicated because in truth I do not sing well. Everyone I've ever lived with has told me so. Brian even had a problem with the way I read out loud, which really offended (and also quieted) me. I guess I'm just too theatrical for some people. Always have been. Anyway, as soon as I read Christopher's note, I felt a huge essay welling up in me.

The first thing I ever wanted to be when I grew up was a singer. I guess that's true of lots of kids. I tried out for a musical in high school and we had to audition with the choir teacher. I was so nervous my voice cracked horribly after just a few notes and the teacher, not one to waste time, stopped playing and told me to sit down. It was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. Felt like I had been betrayed by my own body. I did get a small part in the show but it was one of the two non-singing roles. In the next musical they did, I got a bigger----but still non-singing----part. Eventually I did solo on stage, in my capacity as an actor, and I was fine. My character sang the song, not me, so it worked out.

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