Journal, Day 5
En route from Boise, ID to Salt Lake City, UT/ Erin Belieu
On the way to Salt Lake City. The reading in Boise last night was fantastic—totally packed, very attentive, responsive audience. And I discovered the most amazing pharmaceutical!
I have small, semi-panic attacks when I read—sweating shaking, leg wobbling—it’s a nightmare and I never know when it’s going to happen. I was talking to someone on the bus about it and she said “Oh, yeah, that happens to me, too. You need beta blockers.” Turns out beta blockers are what lots of musicians take to deal with stage fright.
So she gave me a couple from her personal stash and I tell you, if you’re prone to panic attacks, this stuff is life changing. It’s not a tranquilizer or any kind of controlled substance, it just somehow keeps your body from over reacting to stress (apparently it’s usually prescribed for people with heart problems). Last night was the first time I’ve read in a couple of years where I didn’t feel as if I was going to fall down in the middle of it. I was able to really concentrate on the poems and gave one of the best readings I’ve ever given! Of course, I only have two left and five more readings to do (one of which is being filmed for the Jim Lehrer News Hour—yeek)) . . . hmmm, problematic. I’m wondering if I can get my doctor to prescribe them over the phone for me. Probably not. He’s a homeopath as well as an MD and he’s always suggesting yoga and neti pots and saying stuff like “Erin, ask your body where you are with forgiveness . . . ” And that’s why I like him. The last thing I need is some Elvis doctor encouraging my inner Judy Garland.
After Salt Lake we get into my part of the world—Wyoming on then on to Nebraska! Yeehaw! I haven’t been home in a long time and I’m especially looking forward to driving through the Nebraska panhandle.
Both of my folks are from tiny towns out there so I spent a good deal of my childhood in places like Broken Bow and Alliance. The Nebraska sandhills are absolutely beautiful and the sky is so big it lets you know right quick just what your significance is in the scheme of things. That freaks a lot of people out, but I find it deeply comforting. I’ve never understood existential dread. I like knowing how unimportant I am—it’s a great alleviator of responsibility.
Joshua and I have challenged each other to write poems about flying cars, so I’m off to work on mine. The bus is pretty quiet today as the crew had a bit of fun last night (ahem). I miss my son Jude. He’d love the bus . . .