There are those beautiful moments when everything falls in to place as I'm performing a tale of homosexual horror.
My often endless strings of adjectives are uttered so beautifully that I vocally paint a mental mosaic of some wretched Hellbeast for my enchanted audience. My tone and pacing varies just enough so these memorized bon mots of macabre brilliance sound as though I'm making it all up on the spot -- but not too varied as to give away the days of preparation spent in tiresome practice over and over. My physical gestures are precise and relevant to the words I'm performing -- a dandy flutter of my wrist or a subtle shift of my weight to create a menacing mood. And I feel these words merge with my soul and shine through the transparent vessel of my physical form and the audience sees me at my purest and happiest as I'm serenading them with sassy stories of supernatural suspense.
And also... there are those performances when everything goes to hell...
