There's an old story about Marilyn Monroe, when she was studying at the Actor's Studio in NYC, and she's walking down the street with one of her mentors, who comments the great thing about NYC is that they can just walk down the street like this, anonymously, free to be who they are, without being mauled by fans. And Marilyn tells her; "That's because I'm not being her. Want to see me be her?" And then she turn "her" on -- the Marilyn smile, that walk, that way she carried herself. Suddenly, even the most jaded of New Yorkers are turning their heads: "Look, that's Marilyn Monroe! Wow!"
When I'm on stage, the guitar player in Loblolly is my "her." She's confident, she doesn't give a dang what you think about her, she takes no prisoners, she can't play guitar for shit but she doesn't care, she wears her fat with pride, she gets pitchy when she "sings"; but again, she doesn't care, and for some reason, neither do the fans. Because I've turned it on and I'm "her" and that's who they pay to see and that's who they love.
I wish I was "her" all the time.
by Veronica Rusnack
Trudi Evans
About the author:
Trudi Evans is the publisher of As We Are Magazine and an active member of the board of directors for the Eating Disorders Action Group.Her interests range from politics and writing to environmentalism and mixed-berry cobblers.She resides in Nova Scotia with her spouse Rob, their son Sam, and Sam’s cat Hero.
