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.
Tag Archives: adventure
I’m an entertainer. I’m a showman.
My resolution for 2018 was ‘Have Less. Be More.”
In February I reduced my footprint by two thirds and moved to Los Angeles, where i immersed myself in the Magic Castle and the creativity and art that grows there.
Tonight, on the closing night of the year, I’ll be performing in the Hat and Hare Pub inside the World Famous Magic Castle. A spot of honor.
Resolution 2018: Nailed It.
Indianapolis, performing tonight for Park West Gallery, extolling the virtues of art and the pursuit of excellence.
The day is bright and cold.
Coincidentally and harmonically, my heart, soul, and head are in a very bright, peaceful place, though I am in more perilous debt and stress than I can remember.
Life is magic.
That was the entirety of our conversation. I was on my Delta flight, flying from Minneapolis to LAX, to work a week at the Magic Castle. I was seated in my aisle seat, and the young gentleman was assigned to the middle. I had boarded early, and he was asking to get by so he could get set for our flight.
I plugged my music into my ears, settled back for the 4-Hour flight, and let my thoughts drift. It’s the way I cope with long flights. Turbulence doesn’t really bother anymore, and it’s become rather routine. The modern Life of a traveling showman, eh?
About twenty minutes in, I saw him fading: sleepily leaning forward and catching himself.
And then … He succumbed. He fell asleep and slowly leaned over, tucking his head onto my shoulder. For a moment, I didn’t quite know what to do. Window seat dude gave me a bemused look like … ‘wow, glad it’s not me.’
I thought about waking him up, but … Something just told me to let it be. He wasn’t hurting me, he wasn’t being inappropriate, he was tired. Weary.
And man, aren’t we all, these days?
So when he shifted in his sleep and put his hand on my chest, I didn’t mind. Apparently my cuddling abilities are legendary.
He slept, he found some peace for a couple of hours, and some human contact. Contact is good for the soul, right? I mused on why he might be making this journey, and what strength he might need to gather on his way. He found some peace, and I was fortunate enough to be the ‘pillow’ he found it on.
Shortly before we began our descent into LA, he sat up and then slowly came awake. I don’t think he ever realized what had happened.
It felt good to be comfortable being a comfort.
This week I am at the Genii convention in Orlando, Florida. I thought I would keep you posted with a few highlights. I don’t attend many conventions, but this one is kind of special.
Upon checking in at registration, I was greeted by Jean Solomon, who was once part owner of the magazine, as well as publisher, editor, and now proofreader. She’s been with them for over two decades. She treated me very warmly, said she was a big fan of my work, and informed me that mine was the only column that ever brought her to tears. What an incredible compliment, what an awesome way to start this week.
Having hauled my overstuffed bags up three flights I settled into my suite. Literally a 10 foot by 15 foot room. Cozy. I love it unsarcastically. If I sit on the extreme corner of the bed, I have a WiFi connection. I took an hour long power nap and then hauled said bags BACK down the stairs and walked over to the venue at Winter Gardens,
Winter Gardens reminds me somewhat of ‘Boardwalk Empire’. It’s a strange combo of modern world and carnival style architecture. Grand, sweeping ceilings and old, musty carpeting. Hundreds of lights and vanity style arches. Fun. After some searching I found my little vendors table and unpacked. There’s a few familiar faces and we exchanged some initial hellos with promises to dine later on the weekend and catch up.
On a recommendation from Garrett Thomas a few of us went to a nearby Thai restaurant: Wannee Wah Wah’s. (Due to a pernicious spellcheck it took me four tries to write that name down) According to veterans the food in Blackbook is hit and miss, but this was delightful. Extra spicy Chicken Pad Thai with curry and fresh vegetable spring rolls. The gourmet (glutton) is happy.
Jon Allen introduced a new prop, and it’s quite simply incredible. We hashed around a few ideas and a kind of impromptu jam session started up. Being full and at once overtaken by the length of the day and travel, I excused myself and wandered out to find my way back to my room. Apparently I took a wrong turn, because I found myself at the beach. The streetlights reflecting off the clouds and the moon made the surf appear glittery. Each wave pulling back on the sand left a sparkling wash, like diamonds on black velvet. Reminds me of you … somehow.
I turned around and walked back to where I thought I started, but came to realize I was totally lost. It was dark and of course I had no way to call anyone so I just wandered, seeing what I could see. I looked into shop windows and restaurants, bars and bakeries. I watched the people. Playing children under a statue. The families, the lovers and the loners. It was kind of like a play, set in 1970s England a few days before Christmas. I kept anticipating a musical number. I almost got one: I passed by a very narrow Irish bar. Very vintage looking but featuring karaoke. Ultra surreal.
My journey through the streets solidified in me the feeling that we all have our own place, our own path to follow. I have a purpose and a gift and all of my loneliness and self doubt does not diminish the gift or the responsibility that comes with it. Not one little bit. I’m me. I’m being me and living my life. Even getting lost in Blackbook was a good thing. And if you know me, entirely predictable.
I stopped under a blue streetlight. Not kidding. A for real as it gets BLUE streetlight. I daydreamed there for a little while, groggy and oddly not at all anxious for my lost state. I remembered a Dylan quote Dawn once painted on a jacket of mine. “Some of our greatest discoveries come from a state of being lost.” They certainly do, and I certainly was. When I realized I was in danger of falling asleep on my feet, I moved on. I decided not to long after that the best course of action would be to swallow my pride and hail a taxi.
I stepped off the curb and looked up and down the street … and there was my hotel. Just three or four buildings down. Just perfect. I came in, shook off the cold, spoke with the owner for a few pleasant minutes and came up. Took the time to write the first part of this missive, then took a sleep (for about 7 hours, off and on) and finished. Now … here we are.
I’m going down for the English breakfast I’ve conjured in my mind, then off for a day full of magic stuff. I’m on a new road and I kind of know where I’m going, but I’m more excited for the journey than the destination.