Another season is over and the clown is put away, back in the box for the winter where it belongs.
As always happens, it happened just in time when I don't think I could have taken another weekend of performing and everything came together in a really great weekend to close out my second decade doing this weird show in the World's Dirtiest Food Court.
Twenty. Years. How strange is that....?
Next year my Festival career will be getting wasted and throwing up in my boot!
The people that I see at Festival occupy such a strange and special part of my life that is always hard to reconcile with the other 45 weeks of the year - when you've known people for 20 years but really only seen them a total of 300 days that's bound to happen. When it feels like every one of those 300 days was some monumental struggle and accomplishment that you all went through together we all develop that 'you were there...you know' bond that most normal people that do normal shows together probably don't have....or need... or want
There are so many people and so many moments that it is always futile to try and sum everything up (I'm looking at YOU, Closing Gate Speech...ahem) but there are always things big and small that stand out in my mind - all of them completely surrounded by so much fun it feels like I'm actually exhausted from laughing all day long instead of the miles and miles I put on my aging and abused body working the show.
Sure I get home wrung out and bruised and sometimes I even tell myself I'm going to dial it down a little bit but that always vanishes as soon as the clown hat hits the street and the crowd. I wish I could explain it (since the need to be understood is one of the more driving forces for me) without sounding even more crazy and strangely dramatic but I can't NOT do what I do out there. Even if I want to stop and know I should stop and my body is screaming for me to stop (and sometimes Mark is screaming that as well...). It just doesn't work that way.
I used to talk about the street improv I do and teach as something like judo - just taking the energy or emotion or action that the audience is giving out and just going with it and taking it further. Instead of being combative like judo I'm just agreeing with the game as hard as I can and seeing what happens and I love it. It is completely without fear or concern (ok....about 99% of the time, but who else can say that??) and instead of wearing myself out trying to push my ideas and bits onto them I'm letting them push me along and taking them for the ride. It's fantastic and self-sustaining and sometimes the most beautiful and weird moments come out of it all and I feel lucky just to be part of them.
This year, the tiniest and best example was Thistle, the little girl in the fairy costume with the sweetest little voice, cutest little smile and endless energy. This kid came every day, stayed all day and the day I didn't see her until mid-afternoon she was genuinely worried she wasn't going to see me and ran up, hugged me and said "Squeaks - I was so worried, I missed you!"How does sore muscles and some physical fatigue compare to something like that? Of course I'm out there, trying to be there for them. As much as I enjoy spending time with my friends of 20 years having a laugh I know there are kids (and some adults) that are out there looking for me that just want to have some fun for a couple moments. In Thistle's case it was often more like 45 minutes at a time but I could have just played with her all day and let the audience watch. And they would have.
Besides, after a couple weekends Thistle was coming to the shows and quoting our version of Romeo and Juliet and playing along - we not only gave this little girl something special that only exists in this one magical place, we also taught her something about theater and got a couple others interested in performing and improv.
How incredibly awesome a feeling that is.
My partner in all this has always been, and always will be, George.
Not only do we have a language and a shorthand that would terrify most people (not only that but they would understand what incredible dicks we both are) but he understands what I mean about all this, essentially he's the one person I never need to try and explain these things to because I know he's exactly in the same place. If we're on the street together, if I'm screwing around with Mark and he's off with his kids or we're shoulder-to-shoulder on stage, I know we're in this arena together and that means there's nothing else to worry about. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Pure and simple and endless fun.
As much as my street performing has informed the way I improvise and the way I improvise has created this weird creature with bells on that squeaks at people - the fact that he has my back and constantly pushes me is the reason I can do things out there that I can't even imagine anywhere else. During our show on the last day I asked if anyone had any questions and someone just yelled "Why?!?" and the reply came back easily and instantly - because we can't NOT. And we're lucky as all hell we have a partner that gets that.
Which also brings up Mark - He and I have spent a good deal of time in constant contact while I've been on the road but that all changes when we get on stage. There is no reverse. There are no brakes. And neither of us would have it any other way. You want to see someone that is a natural born straight man - he's your guy. You want to see two guys that will do anything and make it fun - just wait by the cage. I give him an endless amount of shit and it's nothing short of a 45 week-long setup for a 15 day-long punchline - and it pays off every. single. time. Give the man a hand.
There are so many more but going further would only result in me forgetting someone.
Thank you all for an amazing season and all the fun. I couldn't do it without you and I don't ever want to not do it.
Good night, Island of Misfit Toys...
6 comments:
I will admit that as a grown woman I look forward to seeing you every time I'm at fest, and it has a lot to do with the joy I see in your eyes and the eyes of the people around you. You make fest that much more magical.
God damn closing gate show speech. I was all set up to do the frakking thing and then I got told that the drum jam was bearing down on us.
I did that thing perfectly *once* and I'll be kicking myself for not getting it right again from now on.
So hard to set up the right moment when you only get to do the damn show once a year. Just know the speech was in my head and in my heart and I was just pissed I didn't get to make it.
You know what's awesome? Loving something so much you'd throw yourself in front of a train for it. I draw ridiculous energy from posts like this.
I tried to explain to a young performer out there how I see that place and how that makes it possible to do without any hesitation or regret. But no one understands that except you. It's been a short 20 years.
Tim - I totally didn't mean you, I meant the pointy-headed people that begin speeches with "there are no words..." - they know who they are.
Michelle - Let's not go crazy now...
George - I'll explain to YOUR young performer...
I like the voice behind the squeaker!
I think more often than not, most of us are amazed at how many years we put out there - every year leaving completely ready to be done but by the time summer rolls around again we are craving the scene and the people.
It's strange, like a crazy dream you had when you were a kid but still remember vividly.
This stupid escape from life is almost what keeps us from completely loathing putting on our "normal" hats for the rest of the year.
Thank you for being out there and being so phenomenal with people and circumstances. I am always guaranteed a good hard laugh when I find you on the street, and laughter is a cure for even the most dark days.
Catch you on the next one.
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