Shut up, Schultz...

Dear PerformanceArtGod:

Hey.

I know it has been a long time since we’ve talked. I’ve doubted you a lot, and I’m sorry.

I didn’t think You were real. I took office jobs out of college instead of putting my faith in You and putting my all into doing Your work. Now I’m boring, out of practice, tall on ideas & fear, short on time & money and also pushing 30.

But now I know You are real. You came into my life in early 2008, that fated evening at the Bryant Lake Bowl when Neal Medlyn sang Darling Nikki in his underwear to me and then drank a milkshake he made in a blender onstage out of red corn syrup and plastic penis pencil toppers. THE MAN SANG TO PRINCE IN HIS UNDERWEAR AND DRANK A BLOODY DICK SHAKE. I was just some lady sitting in the front row. He didn’t even know my name was Nikki.

But You did. And that is why I need Your help, PerformanceArtGod.

Whether or not I ever make PerformanceArt again, You have put PerformanceArt in my heart forever. That is why I am praying and praying and praying and hope You hear my prayer:

Pleasepleaseplease, invoke Your inspiration so that one day Neal Medlyn does a show about Lady GaGa.



That is all I truly want in the whole wide performanceartworld.

Thank You for listening. Is it too late to ask for dance lessons?

Love,

Nikki Lee Schultz