Before an audience.

On Saturday, I'm supposed to meet Black at the Phi Kappa Literary Society anniversary meeting, which I try to attend every year.

Black should be there ... if his Headhunter Lady doesn't try to kidnap him over the weekend and force him into sex slavery ... or if COLD MOUNTAIN Leslie, his latest couplehood prospect, doesn't make him watch really bad movies instead of heading down to Athens.

Black was in the Society before me, but I never met him. When I joined, he was already studying corporate law at Harvard, working to become a Tool of the Man. Some years he couldn't make it because he was in New York. Other years, he couldn't make it because he was in London. This year, though, he lives in Nashville, and he promised me that he is coming. (Of course, that was before COLD MOUNTAIN Leslie.)

I'm supposed to read "Patty Melts and Redemption" at the meeting on Saturday, which I picked because it generates good response from people and it's got a theatrical quality to it -- so I perform it more than read it when I'm in front of a crowd. Plus, my friend T. Kyle, a fan of Southern Lit, says it's his favorite of all my essays, and he's going to be there.

Though I read the piece in front of one of my friend Larry's parties and have read more harrowing things in front of people, I'm nervous. I called around a couple weeks ago to see if there were local Barnes & Noble stores that still did Open Mike Nights so that I could practice, but the store I called said they weren't aware of any in the area.

I want to be on stage again. I want to do readings. I want to try, seeing what response I get.

It should be a fine reading this weekend. If Black's there, it's sure to be fun, anyway.