Friday, June 1, 2012

What Am I, a Hermit?

Well, I did it again.

For the second time in as many weeks, I went out to see a play and wound up circling the block before ending up at a coffee shop, sucking caffeine.

(The hard part is going home afterwards and telling Bobby what the play was all about.)

I can't bring myself to walk into a theatre. I can't bring myself to open the door. It's a physical thing. Does that make sense?

Of course it doesn't. But there it is.

I don't feel welcome.

I don't feel good enough. Worthwhile. Worthy. Worth it.

I swear, if it weren't for the shopkeepers on my block of Decatur Street, I wouldn't see or speak to anyone face to face anymore.

Just wanted to take that monkey off my back for a minute and get a look at him, eye to eye.

In the picture up there? I'm the one on the right.



  1. you know, that time i showed up at your play, i had an intimation not to tell you beforehand, an intimation that it would unsettle you if you had known ahead of time. now i know for sure. of course, let us not talk about the fact of my own nerves and the feeling of never wanting to be seen for fear of never measuring up. i had a notion that i might be able to sneak in and if my nerve failed me, not introduce myself. you see, i have that hermit impulse, too. we have to push against it, friend. thank god you were standing right outside and recognized me. all the things that keep us from opening the door and walking into the theater are figments of our own minds. you are more than worthy. you are a superb human. and besides, every one else is too busy wondering whether THEY are worthy to be thinking about you or me. i know it's hard. especially when you get out of the habit of pushing open the door. i wish i were there to walk in with you. if you wouldn't be ashamed of me, that is. lol. i think i love you. 

  2. To tell you the truth, I was terrified when I saw you. I was thinking, Oh, my God, here are two New Yorkers coming to this penny-ante black box to see this negligible play with its pitiful set and commonplace acting—and with the N-word(!) popping up every now and then. Thank you for your generosity on that night.

    And thank you for this note. I could never be ashamed of you. Here's a big ole bear hug and a sloppy (platonic) kiss for you!

  3. Hi Glenn,   there's no such thing as a hermit who has been married for over 30 years, at least that's what I keep telling myself.    But I have come to learn that complete isolation is to be resisted.   One time I wrote some advice on someone's blog, to the effect of "relax and be yourseft and things will work out"...   which she deleted!   I thought that was pretty funny.   But cheer up, you're respected and loved.     sp

  4. " there's no such thing as a hermit who has been married for over 30 years ..." Depends on the number of rooms in the house. But thank you for your kind words and encouragement. Now, excuse me while I delete your comment ;-)

  5. I love reading these other comments. Just sending a little love from one hermit to another. xo

  6. Thank you. I send love back you're way, hoping it comforts you ...

  7. the play was wonderful! every word was true to the action onstage. the set was minimalist and beautifully inventive. the director brought out such depth and range in his actors, who gave their all. i felt it all! my husband and i loved it! 

  8. Thank you. You'll be happy to know I'm about to slip back into the trenches.


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