Something happened last night. Something that shifted me into a new place and allowed me to relocate a part of myself I’ve been missing since I moved to New York.

I got to sing in public.

Jazz guitarist Dennis Winge, whom I’ve just started to work with a little, invited me to sit in at his regular Friday night gig at Isabella’s in Ossining. So, my friend Mark and I drove down last night, in spite of the fact I had had an emotionally exhausting day and felt ambivalent about everything, including my ability to sing in any kind of remotely decent manner.

But I knew I had to go, no matter how I felt. I had to stand up and sing in public in this strange new land I live in: the Hudson Valley of New York. I had to claim myself as a singer here, to start somewhere, in this small, under-the-radar way. My fear was that I’d buckle in on myself, that the heavy emotions of the day and the intense vulnerability left in its wake would consume me, drag me under, and I’d sing badly, then fall apart.

But when we got to Isabella’s, a small, brightly lit Italian restaurant (with really good pasta, by the way), I knew I’d be okay. Dennis was sitting and playing at the far end of the restaurant. Mark and I joined Dennis’s wonderful wife, Caroline, and their son, Max, who were sitting at a table up front. There was hardly anyone in the restaurant; the place was so quiet. Except for Max, who would break out into loud, joy-filled screams every so often.

I won’t bore you with the whole story. I’ll just say that I got to sit in twice, singing a total of three songs, and it felt great. I sang well, felt anchored in each song, and got to connect with sweet people sitting at the table on the right. And this simple act of of standing up in front of any kind of audience, large or small, attentive or distracted, reconnected me to a part of myself I’d been missing, the part that hasn’t had a chance to show up since I got to New York. The part of me that loves making music and sharing it with an audience.

Sure, I had that guest spot in Jason Britton’s show in New York City back in July, which was an honor. But to be honest, I didn’t sing so well then. I was disappointed in my performance. But last night, I did okay. And now to have found this amazing guitarist to work with, after searching in vain for a pianist, well, I feel like more of me has found its way to the Hudson Valley, that I pushed through the membrane of geographical resistance, and now, now, it all starts.

And the moving van will be here in an hour. Or so they say.

I’ve moved to New York. Upstate New York. About 2 hours north of my new love, New York City. Why am I living here instead of IN the City? Money, mostly. Can’t afford even a shared apartment in Brooklyn, much less Manhattan.

But I must say, now that I’ve been in the city of Kingston for 11 days now, I believe I’m here for other reasons beside cheap rent. It’s a City in desperate need of new energy. And new money. And while I don’t pretend to have even a meager supply of either, I believe in the potential of this place. And others do, too.

Besides, the Hudson Valley rocks. It’s got Woodstock. Bard College. The Omega Institute. Bethel Woods. There is a thriving (though seemingly underground) music/art/techno-geek community up here. And I can’t wait to sniff ‘em all out!

Shoot, kd lang is performing here this month so I can’t be too far out in the sticks, can I?

I haven’t had much time to explore outside the city yet. My car arrived 4 days ago, and I’ve been working a lot at my copywriting biz, which is good. Very good. And, despite what reason tells me, I’m exploring the possibility of representing a handful of local musicians, helping them get gigs, exposure and more publicity. Should be LOTS of money in that!

But for now, I’m waiting for the 80 boxes, desk, bed, chair, dresser, etc. that’s about to show up at my door.