I like to write and ritual quantifies chaos.
All this would be easy if not for my unfortunate bias's towards sloth, ennui, mental paralysis, a complete stalled sense of purpose and waves of universal futility that make the shifting of the plates and volcanic outbursts look like twitches and black holes look comparatively cosmetic. [I'm also told that bombastic hyperbole is symptomatic of my condition.]
So I search for structure. I travel the world with my stilt character and experiment with humor.
After 20 years I find a home. I continue to perform internationally at what amounts to a small financial loss for muted enthusiasms sake. Quite sad in its way.
So that 'clown' is waning. Still kicking but 'Lurk' is 20 years old.
In the 80's and 90's everyone was muscular with disposable income and happy. My public character was disgruntled. In these times of convusive insecure transitions I think perhaps I should produce more whimsical distraction and sneer less at others personally.
With Stiltcam I can provide for both realworld and online audiences. Offline is it's own multiple perspectives and online being via camera my perspective.
My attempt now is to self produce, recognizing the internet as the worlds widest pedestrian boulevard. At its beginning that's what I've always seen it's potential as.
Clown stuck/writing clung.
Over the years I wrote in a school book like pads. It added up, poetry, short stories descriptions of events. Moments of my fluxing consciousness captured.
Sophomoric or deft, I had no idea, no relativity.
What do you make of this for example?
I am sometimes privy to dark, swirling, turgid thoughts emanating from the dodgy craniums of passers by.
While one womans staunch caustic cerebral radiation was strong enough to warm my hands
I did have to wash them afterwards.
There's a picture that goes with this. The woman concerned.
The internet arrived and I had a laptop instead of notebooks. My brain-pan exterior storage potential increased.
A larger vessel, far more productive.
I published online. Had a site from midish nineties.
As years went by I wrote more and more. I collected my thoughts far more often on a laptop than I did on paper.
Online community entered into at Performers.net and early [first 3 and a bit years] Newsvine saw me publishing within communities as well as simply for my own enjoyment. I found the online environment suited me.
I'm moving towards trusting in providing content online as a substitute for street theater income.
The good news is the targets involved are as reasonable as my street performance income.
I'd like to accept that this online boulevard is in it's own way the street theater capital of the world with all it's added elastic conventions.
Whereas previously I'd employ stilts and makeup and physical skills and balance installing myself on street corners of the world to silently comment on the human condition producing mirth and existing off the kindness of strangers I would or will or am now committing myself in venturing out and producing and projecting my quite distinct flavor of clown and/or whimsy and/or tangential investigation for the worlds digestion in the hope I can retain that purity street theater allows.
[long sentences are my weakness]
You entertain them, they pay you in gratitude and as willing participants in a transaction they accept.
While I have far more tools online than I would have on a street corner I accept I have less to hide behind in a sense.
Stilts, full white face and a sardonic mime character on stilts camouflaged me comfortably.
The online effort will be new and potentially apprehensive [checks pulse] venture akin to a new pitch, a new, foreign yet slightly familiar venue. After all, people are people.
I'll admit to being a romantic fool if you'll admit that pragmatism's the least sexy of the gmatism's.
And at the end of the day when all said and done and the suns sunk and what you afford fills your belly.
Well I'm either worth something to people or I'm not.
That was street theatres daily mandate.
I suspect it will be harder in this isolation to illicit that feeling of being part of an audience.
I am looking at finding a way online that you can glance from one to another.
I wrote this on a bus. I'm on my way back from Robert Nelsons. That man contains much juju.
Juju doesn't work online. Or does it?