I had decided that the combination of a Doctor’s no-no and an Entertainment Director’s theft of an act would preclude me from attending KCRF at all this year. I felt no need to immerse myself in depression and anger. Then we got the Wedding Invitation.
So, Sunday, I went, for the latter part of the day, leading up to Susi and Bruce’s wedding. The wedding was lovely, and I was honored to be present.
Wish I could say the same about the rest of the day.
It was hard. It really was.
I thought that I had left it behind me with some relative degree of resignation, but no — it hit me far harder than I wanted it to. The constant reminder that I’m not there, performing, revelling in the surroundings.
There was a moment, after the weddng, when I was sitting on a bench at the site, and night had fallen. The air was cooling, and filled with the sound of crickets. It was after closing cannon, and the site was filled with the sound of performers, tired but filled with joy. I was struck by how many times I had done this very thing, sitting after close, surrounded by the “feel” of the place in an almost meditative state, since I started there in the mid-80s.
Even worse was seeing people I knew, only to be met with “patron glaze” — where they’d see only some guy in street clothes. Sometimes, I waved until they realized that it was me. Most times, I simply let them pass. Awful experience.
Let me explain — as I’ve already said to some of you, after getting the initial diagnosis in January, I’ve felt vaguely detached ever since. This year has had the disconcerting feeling of being somehow unreal, almost dreamlike. Time passes in varying speeds, and I feel separate from everything. I don’t know why, but I wish it would stop.
Being in a massive crowd of people, and being looked over as if I’m not even there by people I know well…..well, that just hit all of the “separate and detached” buttons. It was like a little nightmare, every time. The entire day, I was in a place that had felt like Home to me for years, but I felt removed from it. Separate.
I won’t be coming out again. I can’t.