As the observed observer of his own life, Spalding Gray is always on stage.

So you might think Spalding Gray would suffer from some degree of performance anxiety when he makes coffee in the morning, or changes his socks, or... anything else the rest of us do on a daily basis in the relatively unobserved privacy of our own lives. Gray, who is the premier monologist of our time, uses his daily life as fodder for his performances, giving significance to seemingly mundane occurrences. Unlike most celebrities, who can find at least some degree of privacy behind closed doors, Gray can''t hide from his most determined observer: himself.

Gray, who''s been writing and performing autobiographical works since the late ''70s, is the author of 18 monologues including Monster in a Box, Gray''s Anatomy and the Obie Award winner, Swimming to Cambodia.

But, according to Gray, New England''s neurotic answer to New York''s neurotic Woody Allen, his constant self-observation currently has little bearing on his actions.

"I refer to myself as a poetic journalist," says Gray. "I feel like I''m reporting from my life. People ask me, ''how can you put your whole life on stage?'' But I''m 58 years old and the monologues are only an hour and 40 minutes long. There are many stories on the cutting room floor."

But, he admits, it hasn''t always been so easy. During a phone interview, Gray recounts a story about an incident that happened while he was working on Monster in a Box, his monologue about writing a novel. It speaks to what can happen when a life is so analyzed that it becomes an object outside the control of the person living it.

During a photo session in a dance studio, Gray says he was asked to stand on top of a large white box, "but I couldn''t do it, I couldn''t get my balance. Then I looked across the room, and saw myself reflected in the mirrors. I was only able to get my balance after I saw my reflection and I thought, ''I exist more as an image than I do as a solid body.'' But I''m much further from that now. I''m much more grounded."

Gray attributes his newfound balance to his family: wife Cathy and her daughter Marissa, and their two sons, Forrest and Theo. In fact, it''s a day in the life of the family that becomes the grist ground in Gray''s mill in the monologue he''s performing on Saturday, Morning, Noon and Night. The show begins with Gray being kicked awake by his infant son on the morning of Oct. 8, 1997 and ends with him being kicked asleep by the same son that night. If family stories sound a little too Norman Rockwell-ish, remember that this is Spalding Gray and the experiences that many of us take for granted have grand, and sometimes grandly comedic, significance.

Even the relatively common experiences of family life can lead to more stories. During the interview, Gray tells a story about going to the carousel in New York''s Central Park after taking his 3-year-old son to visit two ailing friends, one in the hospital, another in a nursing home. "It was a very heavy day for Theo," says Gray.

It was late in the day, and the carousel was about to shut down. Gray and Theo were the only ones on the carousel, and the two of them whooped with joy and release following the day''s stress. After they got off the ride, says Gray, Theo wanted a candy but the attendant was nowhere in sight.

"I have never done anything like this in my life," says Gray, "but I slipped that candy in my pocket."

The inevitable occurred. As Gray and Theo were leaving, they were accosted by the attendant and, in the way of all stammering neophyte thieves who get busted, Gray tried to explain it was an accident, that he had accidentally put it in his pocket, that he would gladly pay for it. Then things turned a little surreal.

At first, the attendant told Gray that the candy would cost 50¢. But, in that split second when anger turns to madness, he changed his mind.

"''In fact,''" Gray recounts the attendant as saying, "''You can''t have that candy. You give that back to me.''" After some spluttered, futile protest, as he was walking away, as the attendant was yelling "Your kid''s going to prison someday," Gray was left to explain the inexplicable when Theo asked, "Why''s that man not want me to have the candy?"

It''s a great story, but Gray says it didn''t really become the basis for a story until he was walking away. During the moment, he was not conscious of living an episode for a monologue. But once the realization was there, it was fixed. To make that moment last, in partial contradiction to his protests, Gray says, "I''m outside myself all the time. That''s my habit and my occupation.

"A moment without a story is not a complete reality."