PAUL MICHEL

I'm working on setting up a book release party for Houdini Pie on April 17. The exercise thus far is a lesson in Why I am not a Professional Party Planner. After weeks of dithering I've settled on a venue, a hair salon/gallery in my neighborhood that wants to do more evening events, so I am a guinea pig of sorts. It's a very cool space with lots of art on the walls in an open, angled, many-windowed room that did prior service years ago as a dry cleaner and before that a gas station. I stopped by today to talk to the owner and start hashing out the details, which after all should not be many. It's just a party, after all. People, food, drink, music. Nothing exotic--no pole dancers, jugglers, wild animals, light shows or mud wrestling. So why am I so apprehensive? Because I fear, as I suspect everyone does in my position, that I will be throwing the Party to which No One Comes.

As a guy without any real social network, I can't expect a guaranteed audience or attendance at any event I plan or proselytize. (Note to self: next life, have a social network.) I've begged the services of a fine trio to play Django-style music; I'll buy copious food and liquor and put up posters and decorate and advertise and send invitations and completely overdo everything. Yet until there actually is a room full of rosy-cheeked people talking above the Grapelli-esque violin, quaffing micro-brew beer and bargain jug wine and dribbling hors d'oeuvres crumbs down their chins, I'll be a nervous twitch. Actually, until they are all done and gone, the cups are swept up and the lights are out. And then for a few days after, worrying that no one really, after all, had any fun.

Someday, perhaps (though not probably) I will understand what about my upbringing, education, genes or temperament dictates that I expect every single endeavor I undertake to be a profound (though well-meaning) failure. Is that what being an artist is all about? Expecting the worst? If so, then at least I can say I am from an artistic family. So bear with me as the Big Day approaches. Imagine a room, a hot Gypsy trio, a table groaning with food, a keg of beer, a case of wine, a cooler of juices, a stack of new books and...

Come on by. It'll be a blast.