My car was totaled this morning by a high driver who was texting and driving through my neighborhood. My car was parked in front of my house, no one was hurt, including the driver. My car was catapulted into my roommate’s car, which is also totaled.
I have more thoughts, but right now: that car was a gift in a real time of need. It was gifted to me by a dear friend. It had belonged to her husband, who had tragically died a few weeks prior. She gave it to me. She said that he would have wanted it to be that way.
A kind, super-generous soul gave me that car and it served me so very well. I had plans on buying a newer car and finding someone to give the current car to. Someone in need. Paying it forward.
That was crushed by a texting driver.
It could have been so much worse.
But I’m still pissed that I cannot give that gift.
It’s been a very rough few weeks. The universe seemed to want me to experience some loss and a touch of despair … and while I handled it in healthy ways, it left me shaken and weary. Nothing is easy, but I’m beginning to think that’s just the way things are and i might as well set my jaw and keep moving forward.’
I broke ties with someone I once considered my best friend. I’ve known I needed to, and the people I confide in (including my therapist) have agreed that breaking up the friendship was the healthiest thing for both of us. Things have become toxic They have made no attempt at reconciliation, so I think we’ll simply say our paths move on from here in different directions. I have no doubt they will thrive and find success.
The deaths … well, I’m dealing with them. The holes cannot be filled, but death is a part of life, and my loved ones and friends lived well and made many people happy.
There have been beautiful bits too, and they outshine the darkness. A single candle, if you will. I went to the AZ Ren Fest, and spent some quality time with loved ones and friends. Played in the sunshine with someone special, and laughed freely.
I’m in love.
Yeah. I can tell you that. It’s been a slow, friendship based, mutual admiration for some time. It had grown and blossomed and … I find I have newfound passion and heartfelt love.
It’s impossible to deny the energy. If you are at all aware, you can sense it.
The kicker? She loves me back. She has love in her heart for exactly me.
All my flaws, darkness, scars, and all … she loves me.
And that’s amazing. I didn’t think I’d ever find this again.
But it is very much like the things I lost forever have come back to me.
Not an Icarus.
… more of a Lazarus.
I’m an entertainer. I’m a showman.
Yes, I wear the magician label, but magic is the vehicle my hands found. Or … perhaps it found me.
I’m of an age when my heroes and mentors and friends are falling. I give my grief a season, but I will not let it stop me. Johnny would insist that I work, demand that the show is the important thing, point out how much I’ve given to be where I am.
So i will grieve, and I will mourn. Ashes and sackcloth. But then I will polish my shoes, hold my head up, put on my armor and make art.
With all of my heart behind it.
I feel myself worthy, I’m full of confidence I know exactly who I am. Onstage.
On stage I make people smile, I lift their spirits, I show them miracles. On stage we are one, and they believe in me.
Off-stage, not so much. I’m still the 10 year old who does not get picked. The last kid, awkwardly standing alone while cool kids choose someone else, because I just don’t measure up. I’m not quite good enough. Off stage.
It’s lonely off stage. At the end of the day I am by myself, and left to comfort myself. I am quite aware that this is the life I set up for myself.
And perhaps that’s how it’s to be. I’ll use this time to make my time on stage a little bit better. I would have liked to have been chosen, I no longer expect it.
I still have the stage, and I’m still kinda important there.
Not fame or history or legacy … not connections or networking or any of the trappings.
What matters is the show. What matters is the audience and how I can reach them. That connection: the love I pour into every moment of preparation and execution. That I leave them with a gift.
I didn’t bleed and cry and agonize over my choices for a sign with my name on it. I didn’t do it for a place on a wall in the future or a dusty statue.
I did it for You. And I did it for Them. I touched Your heart … and I touch thousands more.
I did it for Love. Love rules me and Love should be the only reason.
The trappings can be nice, but they can be traps, too.
I’m grateful for the gift, as I am grateful for You, my love.
Happiness … is the Road.
The journey continues.
Last night I performed at a ‘private’ show, courtesy of Erika Larson. As it turns out the guest of honor was Darren Lynn Bousman, his lovely wife Lauren, and their guests. Darren is the director of Saw 2-4 and Repo! The Genetic Opera. They were gracious and spectacular.
Just as the show started, the back lights in the room went out. It created a very focused element to the performance, and i believe I’d like that to be a thing all the time. Happy accidents, right?
Today I went in for a physical, and then to lunch with Sarah. Clean bill of health: all the vitals are well within normal, even the BP and blood sugar. Full check for STD came up negative, because of course it did. The doc did a bit of fat-shaming, but nothing horrible. We talked about sex and he readily agrees with my therapist … I check out on all the levels. Nothing to be afraid of.
My harem will be so pleased. (In case you missed this bit of sarcasm, check out the last post. Or some of the rumors that got passed around about me …)
I suppose I can laugh about it. Yeah? Right now the majority of my intimacy is expressed in my stories and my growing art. And some of the poetry I send to a special person.
The rest? Well … all is well. Okay?
I’m meditating and writing and not focusing on next week. If anything, my patience is getting a great workout. I’ve got love, I’ve got art … and I’m finally getting some balance.
More soon as the story unfolds.
On New Year’s Eve, while working at the Hat & Hare pub, I was given a phone number. This happens so rarely that it took me quite by surprise. Let me give you the short version.
During the climax of on of my routines, I ask someone to write a word on a playing card, and I attempt to guess the word they wrote. In the lead up, I intuited that the young lady who was participating, let’s call her Claire, had written a name – so i did a bit of fishing. I asked if she had written the name of a crush … and she acknowledged shyly that she had. I realized by her body language that she had, in fact, written my name. I was quite flattered (because blatant flirting does not happen very often to me) and, after the show, we chatted. She gave me her number without being asked and suggested that we text, if I was interested. She seemed sober and sincere (and reasonably close to my age) and so we corresponded over the course of the following week.
Feeling confident, I suggested we meet somewhere and talk over food. It’s a fine way to get to know someone … across a table. Yes, friends and neighbors: I was going on a date. Claire was very enthusiastic at first, happy to see me and full of smiles. She kept repeating that she couldn’t believe her luck. And then …
Over the course of the next couple of hours she became less and less interested. She asked the usual questions about my career and places i’d been, but was very reluctant to discuss her own life. Flags started to go up. Finally I realized the problem: she wanted stage Hannibal, not everyday guy Hannibal. In fact at one point she made the statement, “Well, this was fun, but I think I’ll just be part of your audience.”
It was a mild surprise. I was … a bit hurt. But similar things had happened before, getting to know someone who first me as a performer. We finished the meal up with friendly chatter, but I could tell she was ready to part ways. This happened amicably enough and I drove home just a wee bit sad.
No, I’m not looking for a committed relationship (and this information seemed to make Claire angry a little, because she instantly disqualified what we were doing as being a ‘date’) but I certainly have no objection to exploring romance and intimacy with consenting partners. Part of the consent means liking me for me: both the guy on stage and the not-quite-as-bombastic guy just wanting conversation and connection.
Alas: this time my ‘celebrity’ got in the way.
Early morning, airport … Charlotte. Chats with friends last night have left me extremely lonely.
“You should find someone who can love who you are.” “You should be more social.” “I worry about how isolated you are.”
I hear you … and I don’t really think about it much until you bring it up. This morning I’m tired and weary, and I wish I had someone waiting for me.
Ah, well. I’ll try not to become maudlin. Nothing worse than a maudlin magician.
Cherry pie and milk.
There’s no security in my job. There are no promises. I’ll give my everything, and it may not be good enough. Whatever that ultimately means.
But it will be mine. I’ve touched souls. I’ve lifted hearts that were despairing.
I’ve saved lives.
I’ve created real magic.
What else could I ask?
More. That’s what.