What do you think?

H

My final show of 2011 summed up the year pretty well. I was honored to be working on the stage at the McGlohon Theatre in my hometown of Charlotte, NC. This auditorium hosted some of the finest entertainment the world has known, from Shakespeare plays to Ray Charles to the man himself: jazz pianist Loonis McGlohon. It has very warm feel to it, the stained glass and domed ceiling  from back when it was a church still proudly remain. It is still a holy place. The music and laughter are ingrained in the very walls of the place.

Standing backstage, I pondered the many who have walked those boards before me, and the love they shared with the people. Standing there, in the dark, I wondered if they felt the same nervous tension while they waited for that one moment in the spotlight. I closed my eyes …

2011 took me to Germany, France and England. I entertained people in Vancouver, Vegas and San Diego. I headlined my own room at the World Famous Magic Castle in Hollywood. I met world class artists and shared bread and philosophy with them. My cup runneth over, indeed. This last night, I was home – in Charlotte – in front of my neighbors and fellow Charlatans. Most of them had never heard of me before tonight. This was where I dreamed of being, back when it all started 19 years ago on January 1, 1993.  I opened my eyes.

In the dark, I hear the MC (the incomparable John Tosco) announcing my name, and the polite applause welcoming me. Stepping into the light, I pause at the edge of the stage to take this in, the enormity of this moment. (Yeah, call me sentimental or cheesy. I’m cool with that.) In a second, I’m going to let Hannibal have his way with this crowd. (I’m envious.) But for just one more tick, let me have this. Nothing else matters but this moment.

I’m Home.

“If I cannot bring you comfort
Then at least I bring you hope
For nothing is more precious
Than the time we have.” ~ Wendy & Lisa

I don’t like that my level of optimism is directly tied into my bank account. I have a couple of clients that are late on payments, so my small business and personal accounts are dry. I feel the struggle, and I’m grateful for it (still), but there are moments when I’m frustrated by my situation.

On the other hand, I’m still surrounded by love.

Contemplating a move to a resort town, just to kick start and get closer to businesses and people that could use my services. Charlotte doesn’t seem to.

High on the list: Orlando, Reno, Charleston. Thoughts?

There’s a lot of attention being given to bullies and bullying these days. I’m not going to throw my hat into that particular ring (right now) but I do want to say this: I am thankful for the bullies from my childhood. The ones that pushed and ridiculed, punched and spat. You formed me and my determination today. Without you and our intimate relationship, I would not be the unbelievable success that you see before you. Thank you for name calling and questioning both my sexuality and my manliness. You made me examine myself deeply, spiritually. You helped me cherish my uniqueness.

If you are suffering under a bully, no matter what your age and station in life, rejoice! Part of my deciding to pursue my current dream was because of working beneath a hateful, spiteful man. God Bless Him.

There was a teacher who should have known better. He once pointed me out in front of the entire gym class as a ‘weak chinned Nancy’. He postulated that I would end up a ‘milquetoast homo’ living in San Fransisco. (Provide your own lisp here.) In the words of the poet: time is revenge.

Bullies grow weak. Through the miracle of Facebook one might find an old nemesis living alone – devoid of loved ones, bitter and remorseful. One might even strike up a conversation and inspire the old crusted enemy to look at the world with brighter eyes. There’s a story for another time.

I thank you, bullies of my past. This glorious week I’m flying to Vancouver to trade stories and inspiration with fellow artists. I’ll tell them about you.

She loved tennis, both playing and watching. She loved to just walk and look at nature, or great architecture. She had a love of old, southern things. So the headaches used to depress her when they came.

They were caused by stress … or perhaps they were the leftover symptoms of a disease she had in her late teens. The disease caused her to lose some of her lady parts, so she never bore children of her own. She never was clear on why the headaches came, but come they did.

She took these pills. Darvon. They didn’t chase the headaches away, but they made them bearable (I guess). She could take long naps and avoid dealing with the pain. I think that later on the Darvon didn’t help so much and she got some things that were stronger.

The stress came from unhappy circumstances. Her second marriage was failing, the man she had loved was revealing himself to be nothing more than a petty, grasping, greedy charlatan. She mentioned to me on more than one occasion that she really wanted out, but didn’t want the stigma. Still, I think she was making plans.

Does anyone really read these? Am I interesting enough that you want to read what I say?

There was a publication called “Boy’s Life” that I used to get when I was a boy scout. The only thing I really remember about it was the fiction section. I read and re-read those stories, and memorized them. The rest of the mag I don’t remember … I know there were ‘boy scout’ comics (PeeWee something?) and joke sections.

There was a story about two boys trapped in a bathyscaph deep under water. Communication was cut off and water was seeping in. They knew they were going to drown, and there was no hope. Dark. Another was the diary form of a thief who was going to have his hand amputated for stealing. It was his second conviction. I still dream about that one.

I saw a movie this weekend that cast Zach Galifianakis in a dramatic, serious role. He should explore that more.

How long does my show stick with you, and why? Which parts do you remember … what was important?

Respond if you read this far. Even if it’s just one word. This has been an exercise to get my hands writing again. They have been to idle.

Love you.

Hannibal

This coming Thursday – Sunday I’ll be performing in the courtyard of the Epicentre in uptown Charlotte. I’ll be doing street-style magic and busking for tips. Every dollar that I goes into my tip hat on those four days will be donated to the Red Cross and the Save the Children Foundation for relief in Japan. My plan is to do 5 to 6 hours each night. Watch this space for my exact schedule.

Come party with me at the Epicentre this weekend. Have one less beverage and drop that $5 into my hat.

I’ll earn it. I promise.