When I lived in New York, I would occasionally take the Amtrak train home to Vermont.
I prefer to ride in the dining car. I like to eat and there are always newspapers there and people to look at. I once took note of a guy and he of me.
We chatted for a long while and it came up that I did some stand-up comedy. I let him listen to some that I had on my MP3 player. I submitted that maybe he might like to listen to "Weed," which remains one of my favorite pieces. Its performance was magical because I was not there for the performance of that piece. It's why I was unable to perform it a second time.
When the piece was over, he just slowly pulled the headset from his ears and looked at me with a profoundly confused expression. He said, "Who are you? ...What are you?..."
I don't know. That's the problem. I suspect that researching that is the point of this entire exercise.
I just finally got sick of not knowing who I am. Or what.
Though I have some ideas...
