AN AMERICAN CLOWN IN INDIA

PLACES ON MY BODY IT TOUCHED

2007-04-26T11:18:00.000-07:00

there's still some marks on my body from the trip. places i fell down and got bloody, there are lines and little red dots, i know they are from india, evidence of something, a place, a clown move, some kid's laughter. also scars from the bedbugs or fleas, they might've been fleas, from our last night in chennai, laura and i drinking KING FISHER beer outside on the stoop, hiding every time one of the hotel workers came close to the glass, because we weren't supposed to be out there, my ankles were itching then, i thought it might be mosquitoes. but i think, those were the fleas that got me, jumping up from the sand.

i woke up today and put some water on to boil. the tea bag said CHAI and it smelt like some dream i'd had once, i had to add a ton of sugar and milk before i got the ratio right. it was close enough to transport me. not exactly right, but close enough remember.

....

this arrived in my email a week ago.
from one of the boys, our boys, in delhi.

" Circus Across Cultures

March 14, 2007

It was the day which I can’t forget

When I made myself proud and my dad.

It was the day which I can’t forget.

It was the day which changed my life.

Now I will not be afraid with my enemy

Even if they have sword or knife.

I will never put my feet behind.

‘Cause it was the light which shows the way,

Even to the blind.

It was the day which I can’t forget.

It was the day when we didn’t get nervous before 500 people.

It showed us how to become determined,

Face the problem with great encouragement.

In the audience mind become a person called legend,

Attract the face of the crowd in your way.

We learnt all those things on this day.

It was the day which we can’t forget.

By Gulshan

Vivekanand Camp Part 2

Chanakyapuri
New Delhi, India"

....

and there was also this from gulshan:

...

" Clowning: The last, but everybody’s favorite, clowning, was my favorite too. I would like to mention one thing here that while practice sessions on first day when we did clowning we all felt pain in our stomach at night. Evhan, who taught us clowning, was a very calm and very fun loving person. When we were learning clowning we felt that when we are going to audience, our audience will not laugh at us. At that time, Evhan guided us and gave us a teaching, that while doing clowning, do whatever you want. You only will know that it is wrong, but the audience will think that he is a clown and that is why he is doing all the wrong things. He taught us way of talking between two clowns, the way of walking of a clown, the way of falling down, and the way of bumping our head on a wall. The most interesting thing he taught us was how to slap and how to hit chairs to anyone ahead of the audience. Everybody liked doing clowning.

During the practice session, we all (all the boys) used to meet in the morning and start talking about the stunts we learnt and which incidents took place during the session. We all used to encourage each other if anyone felt pain, although we all had pain, but we didn’t want to cause a problem in our unity. And at the time of practice, we all met together and used to do our prayer at our camp (outside of A.E.S.) Prayer is “God give me power that I will not cause any problem for my friend and if he is in trouble I will not go away.” And after that we all use to hug each other and go for practice.

We had to warm up first and then training. We were enjoying the training and use to think it would be very beautiful if the training would be for 6 months. We worked very hard and learnt all those stunts.

Then, after six busy days, the day came for which we all were waiting. It was the 14th of March, the day when we had to do a show. Our dreams became true for which we all worked hard and gave our 100 percent. We all wanted to make it special for us and for the audience who were watching this show. We all said to ourselves that we don’t have to do any mistake. Do it better then best, and make proud all the teachers. It will be our Gurudakshin (A gift which students have to give at the end of their study to their teacher). I didn’t know if we could give that to them or not, but we tried very hard to do it. On that day we were very, very excited and determinative. The whole day passed like a second, and n the evening, we all came together and went to A.E.S. When we went in the A.E. S. gyum, we all got T Shirts for the similarity. We colored our face, and did some final rehearsal for the show. After half hour, we went to the theater. When we entered in the theater, we found that some of the people were already waiting for the show. Then we did some settling, and waited for more people.

After half hour the show started. We were divided in two groups: A and B. Each group had to do all of the stunts and each person had to do two stunts. Both groups showed all the stunts. At first the stilt walkers of Group A came on stage and performed head of audience. The audience was fascinated by their performance. Now clown group of Group A came to perform. The Audience became convinced and was laughing. The whole theater started humming. Now the aero group came and showed their performance. We can’t forget the rope group too, and their ---------.

The same process worked with group B. And, after an unforgettable one hour the show ended. The audience enjoyed the show. We were very proud because the whole show went very well. We couldn’t stay pleased for long time because it was the time when we had to go aside from our friends, teachers and we had to come our from our vision. We had to go back in our old world, but this time we had something special with us which was a blessing of our teachers and power of love from our A.E. S. friends.

This time we were ready to struggle with this world. Our life took a turn. We all understood the meaning of our life. We didn’t want to waste it. We started our new life with great determination and discipline. Those boys were Gulshan, Roshan, Pramod, Haridas, Sukhpal, Prashant, Kishan, Moglee, Sonu I, Sonu II, Kailash, Bhupender, Umesh, Pradeep, Nitesh, Bablu, Paramlal, Deepak I, Deepak II, Rahul, Ravi, Chhotoo, Kanhaiyalal, Govind, I, Govind II, Rakesh, Suresh, Rammilan and Raju. I am very, very proud to say that I , Gulshan, was one of those boys.

Once again we want to say thank you to our teachers, and everybody who gave us a helping hand. We are very thankful to Mr. Gene Harrell and Ms. Barbara Hegranes for all their help because without their help, the dream couldn’t become true. We can never forget to say thank you to A.E.S. for their help in giving us all the facilities and allowing us to do the show.

In the end, I want to tell all of you a teaching which I learnt from my teacher. Always enjoy your beautiful life because ‘Who knows what tomorrow brings?” "

....

i wrote back:

....

"thank you for sharing gulshan. you have a great gift for writing. continue to use it. and please share with me what you are writing as time goes on. i would love to read your words. you have a great heart.

your clown friend,
evan

ps. tell everyone at the camp i say hello. i miss you all. and please contact me anytime. i love to hear from you."

....

his reply was:

....

"Hi Evan
Thanks for you unforgetable love and support you gave me. I am writing another book which i will share with you.

Gulshan"

....

i have been showing people the pictures. calling everyone in my phonebook so i can say the same words over and over, keep repeating the stories.

don't lose it evan. hold on.

last post, some pieces i don't want to forget

2007-04-05T03:34:00.000-07:00

lip-synching with alessandra some song neither of us knew in the back seat of the cab, doing our best bollywood duet, lips moving in fake hindi shapes, eyes expressing, heads bobbing. making cohdi and laura laugh.

...

shirtless young boys, scabs and marks, no shoes, dirty hair, snotty faces, selling roses, knocking on our car window, eyes begging, patting their stomaches, some kind of crude mime gesture, hungry belly...feed me.

the guy with one leg, bouncing like a pogo stick, magazines in hand, seeling those, coming right up to our cab. hopping through the traffic, hop, hop, hop.

men with no legs at all rolling through the traffic on skate boards, pushing the hot pavement beneath them with their chapped hands. one of them, had some kind of hump on his back, maybe it was his shoulder blade, sticking way up, not how it should be.

....

seeing horses in the park, grazing. playing with them, like in a scene, in kolkata. cohdi took video footage, running in circles, one of them jumped up on its hind legs to fend me off, too close to its child, too close. i run away.

....

i had a 5 ruppee coin and i tossed it in the air and a young girl caught it and stuck her tongue out at her brothers. she smiled at me.

....

a punjab man, hair rolled into a ball on his head, large cloth tire, a turban, tells us it's a "dry" night in delhi. no alcohol because there's an election in a few days, and it's the law that the city closes down it's bars and liquor stores. he says, you like rum? i have a friend...

we drive to the army base, where his cousin meets us on a scooter and hands us a bottle in a paper bag, he rides away, and our friend, the taxi driver, makes a cute gesture, like a child sneaking a snack in the middle of the night, tip-toeing away from the refrigerator, sssh, don't tell...

....

getting a greeting card from our boys from across the street (from the slum, or "camp" called vivakenand) that says the most beautiful words. gulshin, one of the boys, is working on a book he tells me, about our circus, he hopes to have it published. they've been rehearsing their acrobatics everyday, they say, in the grass by their school. the card says: "you have shown us we can do anything. our world is a brighter place. we can deal with many tragedies. you are our great friends. never forget us too."

their camp, which has been around for over 30 years, is being bull-dozed over by the government in a matter of weeks. when i ask them about this they break into an english song they all know, i imagine one they learned at school, all these boys wearing the red shirts we made them, an image of india and the words in hindi and in english: circus across cultures...they all start singing and swaying together: "WHO KNOWS WHAT TOMORROW BRINGS..."

afterwards, one of the boys, says, "how? how, evan, do you make this your profession?" and it kills me to think that for these boys, in this society, i can't promise them that anything is possible. i say, "you work and you work, and you stay true to yourself and you do what you love. and if you keep that thing that you love with you always, your work won't be so bad. it might even become what you love."

they ask about my house back home, and i can't really justify the fact that we have three bathrooms, two levels, 200 channels on the t.v.

....

packing it all up. we get in the plane tonight. so many flashes of this trip. things i want to remember always. i will keep making notes like this. to keep it alive.

i arrive home on friday after a 22 hour flight. it's so hard to imagine.

india is a place that hides nothing of itself. it is like an open wound, totally exposed, every harsh reality. it's also incredibly beautiful and rich, and the people, so strong and connected to their family, to their sense of place.

a principal at one of the schools tells us about the street kids and how they are so amazing because they are so ready to learn, so enthusiastic, because they are in "the flow." when you live in poverty, you can't be a complainer. you can't resist it. you have to be in the flow to surrvive. so everywhere they are, they are present, alive and ready to adapt.

and they think we have it all.

2007-04-02T04:59:00.000-07:00

pictures from delhi's CICUS ACROSS CULTURES PROGRAM (my first clown students!)

this one's of me, on the first day. doing a "demo" to get them all stoked.

clown friends

2007-04-02T04:15:00.000-07:00

the other day uday wanted us to meet some friends of his here in bombay that run a circus show at a hotel called LOTUS. twice a week, three shows a day, a lit up glass stage that stands over a swimming pool, in the courtyard cafe, all the rooms have windows facing the show, there's a trapeze bar hanging that hasn't been used in years. i guess it used to be a huge show, the whole hotel was focused around the circus. now it's just simple magic tricks mostly and juggling, a few clowns in full make up and multi-colored wigs serve people drinks and stand around awkwardly trying to entertain. martin, the head honcho producer of the show, and signer of the contract with the hotel (he's under written agreement to have performers show up and do their job) he'd heard of me from uday and cohdi had mentioned something about DELL'ARTE that had prompted him to look over the website enough to ask me some intelligent questions. he wanted me to show his workers some "tricks" and so i fell down the stairs for them, walked into some walls, pretended their handshakes were making my body go limp with pain (as if they had unbearably tight grips) and i messed with some of the center pieces on the table as if they were objects with a life of their own.

martin loved me and was so intrigued with some one taking clowning "so seriously." i explained that i think clown is a great way to learn about your self and to show people a little bit about human nature and how we all struggle with imperfections and flaws. he asked me to meet with him privately the next day and i did.

yesterday i got picked up by ameresh, a young mime with a great smile, eager to learn a few more skills. we zoomed on his motorbike through the city as the sun set, the wind blowing through our hair, smiling at the beautiful splotches of color reflecting on the water. i held on tight and we shouted a few sentences back and forth that were inaudible due to the bikes' growls before giving up on speaking, to get absorbed by the ride. we arrived at martin's office and martin was wearing a multi colored over-sized shirt, that was more like a blouse, as i know blouses. kinda like a mu-mu and one of the walls had a full-on tropical scene painted mural, palm leaves and waves. he handed me a BACARDI BREEZER, some saccharine sweet blue alcoholic beverage. and we talked clown and theatre and character and improvisation talk for almost two hours. i watched video footage of my new mime friend and richie, an 18 year old clown with a passion for "making people happy". in amerish's video, i saw his signature "lip dancing" which is a pretty fun gag, where a mime stands perfectly still as music plays and his lips become possessed to break out in some pretty crazy moves.

after my critique, martin offered me a job. he said he could get me a work visa and pay for my way back here this fall to stay for 3 months or so teaching all his boys how to be great clowns and also performing myself several times a week. i would be getting a weekly salary and a place to stay (my own apartment). he would also rent out a rehearsal hall for practice and teaching, that i could use whenever i wish, and that i could invite two or three friends to come with me and do the same.

i told him to stay in touch and that through email, we could maybe agree on something, but let's talk logistics later, as it's too soon to say.

ameresh and richie and i rode out on another motorcycle adventure through the city, stopping to try "pana-puri" a bombay "specialty" which is basically a crispy little ball with an opening that they ladle in a spicy or sweet liquid, kinda like a cold soup, and you devour it in one bite. it was great. we hopped on our bikes (richie had one too) and headed for the beach where we smuggled in some beer and drank and talked and laughed under the stars. the waves crashing, and couples in shadows kissing, and one loud woman laughing and falling in the water, drunk, that amerish said was a hooker.

we went back to amerish's friend sam's house and got some chinese food and sang songs (mostly in english, though i did "ooh" and "ahh" along to a few hindi songs with catchy tunes). we also talked politics. amerish is hindu. richie is catholic. and sam and his friend were muslim. and they are self-described revolutionaries, violently opposed to the "caste system" of which their parents generations are consumed. they spoke about work and personal problems, girls. it was cool being around a bunch of guys that spoke such amazing english, got my humor, and understood my accent. they were a lot of fun. it's really rare for young men (women too, actually anyone over 16) to be persuing something they love, outside of their career and family, mostly that's considered childish and silly. amerish and richie are, as of right now, supporting themselves as bachelors who live at home with their parents, as clowns and mimes. no other work. they worry about the future, i told them i do too, that it's the same thing all over the world, the fear of not being able to sustain your passion.

then it was back on the bikes, hours later, around 4 in the morning zooming through the empty streets at break-neck speed, as the boys delivered me home and we said goodnight.

bombay

2007-03-26T09:21:00.000-07:00

in bombay the air is hot thick and muggy and it's a little harder to breathe. more pollution. definitely more western more modern. nice to be in a place that isn't relying on tourism to survive. the places that are all hip, young, modern and "alternative" aren't made for white people. there's more of an underground scene here. more individuals. people with their "own style" a concept which i haven't seen existing here at all. so that's new. the beaches are dirty but the sky line at dusk is magical. people everywhere lining the boardwalks. sitting with their families nursing their ice cream cones.

teaching my clown class to privileged international students (no street kids this time) is a whole different scene. everyone knows english. the kids are so aware of pop culture of course, video games and too much t.v. that they are hyperactive, can hardly focus, some are down right obnoxious. too much pokemon and fruitloops.

i got some of the worst trouble makers interested in being clowns. putting on a goofy costume and acting ridiculous is right up their alley. so my challenge is this: how do i keep them engaged, without stepping on their toes, how do i direct the play so it stays productive without being a clown nazi?

i got one group working on a simple scenario which involves two clowns and a dance-a-thon, each one doing their best to out-dance the other. it ends with the both of them dancing and shaking into some kind of strange frenzy, and they fall down dead. then two other clowns, total goof-offs have a hard time disposing with the floppy clown bodies. it's getting there.

another group is doing a rendition of the "bus stop" scene. two clowns sit down and read their newspapers. a third clown sits in between them and hiccups. one of the reading clowns, gives an irritated take to the audience and resumes reading. the third clown hiccups again, louder. the other reading clown takes notice. this builds until the hiccups become some kind of unusual sustained sound, like he's been possessed. he can't shut up. one of the reading clowns gets up, picks up his chair and hits the hiccuping clown unconscious. the two remaining clowns continue their reading. then one of the clowns starts sneezing. and the whole thing builds until more clown violence erupts. eventually the knocked out clown wakes up and scares the two clowns offstage. he takes his seat, picks up a fallen paper, and yes, one last time...hiccups. the end.

the group as a whole is extremely enthusiastic. but very antsy. very fidgety. typical for western 4th and 5th graders (all but about 4 or 5 or so are that age, the others are a little older, the oldest is a 9th grader who is doing her best to overcome her adolescent awkwardness by wearing bagging clothes and habitually folding her arms in some act of circus defiance.)

at the beginning of class everyone goes through a hula-hoop. it's their portal into circus land we tell them. at the end, the same thing, through the hoop and back into the real world they go, where their parents can deal with them. some of the rowdy boys won't leave the hoop which is fine, but sometimes they hold up the rest of the group putting one foot in and screaming, "i'm stuck! i'm stuck! i'm stuck in circus land!"

cute.

.....

anne is leaving the group and going to thailand. i said my goodbye and set off on a solo mission walking around bombay at night and getting a feel for my neighborhood in the dark. it's a happening place.

i found myself in some crazy whirlwind by the train station in bandra, a very hip urban district with billboards everywhere and people walking around in the latest fashions, beautiful people everywhere and horns honking of course and cows lying in cement rubble and cafes everywhere, coffee houses and pizza hut. it's like time square, there's that much going on, music playing from a source i can't spot, and huge glass window displays boot-cut jeans and bright lights, kitchen appliances and muslim women with shopping bags, every inch of flesh covered, just a slit for the eyes. men holding hands. men peeing on walls. woman smoking. 5 people on a motorbike zoom by. and then i see an elephant, an actual elephant, marching through the chaos with a boy on top, in some little basket affixed by a rope tied under the legs and strapped up under the tail. just bouncing its saggy grey flesh on the sidewalk. it's trunk picks up something and hands it to the boy and no one seems to notice. i'm staring, and people look at me like, "this guy's not from here..." i laugh.

....

we took a 400 rupee cab ride to the other side of town to catch a show. RAZMATAZZ claimed to be a "a celebration of the magic of music." it was hysterical. words cannot express the sequined cheese and all-american (registered trademark) pulp this little number spat out. like some cruise ship nightmare, one middle aged diva sang her heart out to american chart toppers while backed by 24 bollywood hopefuls in unitards and top hats with all the fame-seeking, fake-eyelashed, over-produced sensationalism of a half-ass super-bowl half-time show. it was awe-inspiring. truly. i was thinking of all my friends who would've loved it. laughing for all of them. but the group wanted to leave before it was over, my guffaws were really pissing off the blue-hairs in front of us. so we left. the best part was the over-weight woman (a rare thing in this country) sitting next to us, belting her heart out, eyes watering with delight, her hands permanently clasped under her chin, clutching her pearls, the big queen. she was really in heaven.

at one point the back up dancers where holding up a fabric backdrop behind the singer during one of the one-to-many elvis numbers, and they were actually swaying it back and forth. the fabric got stuck on something, and it created a nice clam shell effect that i doubt was intentional.

at another point the spot light guy must've fallen asleep while miss thang was belting it out while walking through the aisles because his spot stayed on the corner where she was standing for quite a while, illuminating the wall and a few heads of the audience, eyes squinted, hands blocking the rays.

...

i leave india in 10 days. that is so hard to fathom.

i'm homesick. i can't wait to return. see people. hug my family.

cohdi and laura are thinking of going to australlia to train with some circus folks there. there's talk of working together this summer on a project to take to the oregon country fair. a collaboration with RAY CHARLES IVES a rockin' two man band from sante fe. sounds like a good time.

....

walking through the streets to find a cyber cafe i get lost in some back alley neighborhood where everything looks less developed, there's a gutter running along the side walk where the sewage goes and there are kids everywhere without shoes and boys hanging out, smoking cigarettes, leaning against walls. they look at me like i'm lost and they point and call things out in hindi. i smile.

i pass butcher shops where goat heads, skinned, black eyes budging, lay out on a plastic table, displayed like some kind of haunted house attraction. and pale sticky carcass of some unknown fowl hangs limp from it's toes, like on a trapeze.

as i walk i smell spices and fish and smoke and gravel. pollution like gasoline, some kind of oil, lamp oil maybe, and food simmering. i keep walking, with my little bag bouncing against my thigh, eyes open, meeting the glances as i pass, a caffeinated curiosity itches to see what's around the next corner.

fragments and photos

2007-03-21T03:30:00.000-07:00

weaving my way through the narrow alleys past cows and dogs and monkeys screaming, jumping on the tin roofs, noisy and obscene, watching where i step, and smelling milk curd bubbling and foaming, being scooped into clay bowls and spoon-fed to happy children. stopping for tea almost too sweet to drink, but i do stop anyway and talk to my friends, i go everyday and sit in ajah's shop and all his nieces and nephews climb on me and i play with their toys, spinning metal rings on strings, and card games and sometimes i buy them some sweets.

walking down the steps from my guest house, the smoke of burning bodies billowing up from behind the sinking temples, the ganga glistening, little offerings small banana leaf shrines, floating candles and wreaths. my sandals sink in the mud, it'll come off in the walk. some of the boatmen remember my name and they shout hello and say good morning as i make my way out into the world, not knowing what the day will bring, i breathe it all in.

always, the touts, the pestering people asking me where i want to go, you want hashish? astrology? a boat? a girl? "you tell me, i give you..."

the skinny water buffalo snorting and pissing and dripping, sopping wet, climbing out of the water like strange black silken kings. ribs sticking out, nostrils winking.

past the man sitting on the cloth, selling postcards and plastic jewels. every article placed precisely on the mark, kept in line. he takes his work seriously. there's a sign that reads: BIT SHOP. i've sat with him twice now, just to chat. to pass some time in the shade, stare at the water, he made me a necklace.

one day i went to a movie. entirely in hindi, no subtitles. but i think i got the gist. an indian man being pushed and shoved through london, or some british metropolis, unwanted and discarded. young lovers with jealousy issues, cricket game obsessed husband and pop-singing wife. pause for musical interlude. wind blown hair, constant fans blowing, eyes twinkling, almost kissing, romantic cheese. also a swishy chinese man in a hospital gown and a mean doctor with a heart of stone. something about a feather duster, and the audience roared...i missed the joke...but it was air-conditioned, a lovely escape from the chaos outside. i left the theatre and a cow pissed on me, immediately i was back in varanasi. i rinsed off at a spigot, sharing the spray with a holy man, dread-locked and swathed in orange, "namaste."

the man from the shop by my guest house invited me to lunch at his home. i went and took a million photos of his family. i got them printed at a local color lab and when i gave him the photos he smiled so large i thought maybe his face would change forever.

getting into the boat i slipped and fell into the ganga river. avoiding it for so long, it swallowed me. maybe i needed it. maybe it'll cleanse me. maybe it'll fix everything, i thought immediately. once i got in, another man followed and started rubbing me immediately, and i let him. he gave me a half-ass full body boat massage and wanted 300 ruppess, we argued for a while and i asked to get dropped off at once.
i gave him 150 which still seemed like too much, but it was what i needed to do to get rid of him. soaking wet and irritated i went back to the guest house to shower and change. there was singing coming from the room next door. i could hear it through my window, singing and chanting, as i toweled dry.

i met some friends down at the main ghat and we went on a two hour search for a bottle of rum. we found it eventually but i felt sick and retired to my room. two days of stomach aches and headaches and feverish chills but i left one night, i woke up drenched in sweat, no longer aching. i went for a walk and knew it was gone for good.

next day met up with my friends again over breakfast at the german bakery. croissants, rolls, cheese and espresso...

there's a little boy i think is magic. he is so special i swear. the biggest smile and the most friendly eyes. he's the one who invited me up to meet his parents that first day. one of the kids i bought a coke for. he gets a kick out of me. here's his picture:

varanasi

2007-03-17T03:34:00.000-07:00

there's cowshit everywhere so you have to watch where you step. through the stone maze of crumbling buildings and temples still standing little windows in the stone, men perched on stools and women weaving, sewing, veiled in all the colors of the rainbow, shy, but smiling. the water, they say comes up to the second story during the monsoon season, so the ground level has no carpets, no furnature, just a few tables and mats, things easily moved. the eternal fire still burns after 4000 years, and it is with this protected flame, at manikarnica that the bodies burn, right down the steps from the mishra guest house where i'm staying, where, in the morning, i wake to chanting and singing, and horns blowing, and bells. out my window the smoke i see is some family's grief, some child's tears, or sometimes no one at all to mourn, so the fire is quick and the location is over by the trash, so the boatmen can still walk on their path. they use the cheapest wood and burn the body as quickly as possible (one body burns in about 3 hours, a man tells me), so they can sweep up the debris, and quickly comb through the rubble searching for gold teeth and jewlery worth salvaging...as quickly as possible the workers sift through the smoldering ash and clear the way for the next burning to begin. the leper colony is also right next door and it looks like a scene from a zombie movie, hobbling, diseased outcasts wailing and wobbling, some without limbs, some with blackened faces, as if foaming, they stand watch, like gargoyals. the man at the burning ghat says it's good luck for the passing soul's future if animals pick at your bones, the man's chest and the woman's pelvis are always the last to burn, he tells me as he points to what i imagine is a chest cavity, broken and charred, not quite caved in. dogs sniffing. a man puts out his hand to shake mine, just some random man, red teeth, the smell of dust and bread... hands crackling dry and brittle, he starts rubbing my hand and then my arm and then my shoulder and neck, i get swept up and taken away, somewhere else, though i am still half here, on the steps of the ghat, above the river, whose presence is felt even in darkness. eyes closed, i sense her, her heart is beating, literally beating, the river, i swear has life. the part that stays is listening, being lulled by the birds and chit chat, footsteps and motor bike sounds in the distance, goats whining and hacking coughs and waves hitting boats and some street vendor frying dough in hot oil. sharp sizzles. the massage lasts at least an hour, i go limp and he leads me to the ground, i imagine people walking all around me, but i don't dare look, my eyes stay closed, lost in ecstacy. after he's finished i pay him several hundred ruppes and we say our namaste's and share a twinkling eyed smile. he holds my bills up to the sky like a blessing and kisses them before brushing the wrinkled paper to his forehead. i go back to walking... i'm drinking coke in a bottle, and laughing with the kids near me. in the shade, on a bench, just chilling. teaching them a handshake and poking at these two boys, both with torn shirts, dried snotty noses, and cracking feet, no shoes. i buy them both cokes and show them my family's photograph from home. they tell me about their family, how much they love their family, "most good family." and suddenly four more boys come over, all of them brothers, smiling, shaking my hand and jumping up and down like i'm doing some magic trick they've never seen, but all i'm doing is sitting there. i get them sodas too, they look as they're pouring it down their throats like it's some magic elixer, like it's pure golden nectar from the gods, a gift from on high. one of them tells the littlest of the brothers to run upstairs, his hand gesture says it all. and after a few moments he waves me in, to meet the parents, his face is beaming. we all climb the stairs dancing like bollywood stars, i boble my head a lot, and they love it. inside, they bring me chai and i spill it all over the floor. oops. luckily, we all laugh, and after a few moments of everyone scattering to find the proper cleaning tools, and the mother mopping me off with her dress as i say repeatedly, "no, no...please. it's okay." after all that, the house settles again, and the room goes back to normal. the father rolling some mixture of tobacco and calcium into a ball in his palm, slapping the mixture with his forefinger now and then, and then rolling it, pressing and rolling, like dough, working it into a glob so he can put it in front of his teeth and play with it for a few hours, under his tongue, sticking to his gums and tingling his lower lip. i watch him do this, it makes me make a funny face i think, i try to control it. and then i say goodbye. i bought a few tapes to play on my tape player and they were a hit. without knowing what i was buying, i purchased two very traditional devotional tapes, recordings from unknown artists expressing their unyeilding love for shiva. i play the tapes at night and light some incense. i read and after a while walk onto the balcony of the guest house, where the employees are smoking hash and playing cards. some of them know the songs, and sing along, laughing, slapping eachother's knees and pointing, like, "check out this guy, he's all right!" i find an unaccompanied hamock and fall asleep smiling in a cloud of smoke and laughter, flies buzzing and the holy ganga river sparkling back at the moon until dawn.

many things

2007-03-15T08:14:00.000-07:00

walking by the encampment (slum) across the street from the embassy school to catch an auto-rickshaw to the market and seeing three or four students from the circus after school program...one, raju, a smiley stocky guy with a beard, 16 or 17 years old, but already made into a man by circumstance, is selling pineapple juice from a rickety old wooden cart he's pushing...i stop and say hello. another, nitesh, is fixing bicycles on a fraying brown tarp, under a tree. we talk for a while. umesh i see riding on the back of a bicycle, sitting on the rack, with his feet up high, trying not to interfere with his brother, who i don't know, steering. it's so strange seeing these guys outside of class, without a clown nose on, not goofing off or playing, but working, some of them. thinking to myself, i know that guy selling juice on the street, and there are thousands of juice sellers in india that i wouldn't give a second glance too, i might even judge them harshly (ashamed to say it, but it's true) telling myself something, like, that poor victim of society, what a tragedy...not realizing that of course, he's got a family, of course he's got a home life, and fun, and laughter and play. of course he'd make a great clown if he tried, of course we could engage in that way. it's like the whole world is opening up and bursting open and all the old rules are breaking, and i can see now, why people say india changes you, traveling changes you. eating a meal at a restaurant and not finishing it makes you feel guilty. because these kids, many of them, have never even seen a toilet that flushes.

gene (cohdi's dad) said tonight, before dinner, that he had to chaperone the bathroom outside the theatre last night (when we had our big circus show with all the kids) that there were boys from the camp who'd never seen a urinal and that they were peeing on the wall and amazed beyond belief that the hand dryers blew air at the push of a botton.

....

THE SHOW

the kids got to the gym early to get their t-shirts. we printed 50 or so, red shirts with the "circus across cultures" logo on the back, and they each changed immediately and gathered for our opening circle. uday led the warm up as usual, and we ran through the bows once. then we split into each group for a quick 10 minute check-in, my clowns made sure their props were in order, that their noses hadn't walked off, and to huddle and get juiced.

backstage in the wings as the show started and their friends and family members applauded one of the boys who speaks little english turned to me and said "this is a golden moment of my life."

performing on a state of the art stage, with colored lights and a killer sound system, with their new shirts and encouragement from us was such a powerful thing for these guys, i just know it. when hugging gulshin, a funny fellow with a most sincere interest in clowning (he came the first day with a photograph of a clown decked out in full augustine make-up and said "i want, please, to look like this") he said to me after the show as he shook my hand "a most large heart connection with you." and i said gleefully, "yes, i agree."

kailey, one of the american girls from the embassy school, has apparently caused the administration a bunch of trouble. she's the AES equivelant to "leave it to beaver's" eddie hascall. no one thought she'd stick with the circus program, she can barely even make it to school twice a week.(she's been given warnings of expulsion but her powerful parents threaten with legal action.) but she stuck through it, came every day but one, because she caught an over-night bug (confirmed by her mother) and she was up there, on stilts, this big, tempermental, stubborn girl, was smiling full of pride, just thrilled, to be up there, without help, walking on stilts, doing the choreography, after only one week's work.

the curtain closed and we packed things up and walked the group over to the reception where we all ate pizza and cake and said goodbyes. my clowns were so surprised they got to keep their noses, i said, "no, no, it's yours. it's a gift." and they almost jumped up and down.

i walked across the street later that night and saw many of them, still wearing their shirts, eager to pose for some photos. rahul showed me, infront of his house, how he's mastered the "walking into a wall" with practice. there in their own community, clown nose on, seeing these boys playing and laughing, pretending to fall and bump their heads, ruffling eachother's hair and teasing, challenging each other with another clown move, each one thinking he could do it best of all...it was amazing. totally magic. the women covering their laughs with their veils and children who weren't in the class giving it a go, joining the play.

i walked back to the hotel smiling. and singing laura and anne cheesy love songs. passionately, belting to the polluted sky, all my best "BOYS II MEN" tunes, "ALL 4 ONE" and songs from the musical "RENT." it was the best way to end the day, with singing, putting all my pent up feelings into it, letting it out, my favorite of the songs, which has become this trips unoffical theme song WATER RUNS DRY:

WE DON'T EVEN TALK ANYMORE
WE DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT WE'D ARGUE ABOUT
DON'T EVEN SAY I LOVE YOU NO MORE
'CAUSE SAYING HOW WE FEEL IS NO LONGER ALOUD
WHY DO WE HURT EACH OTHER?
WHY DO WE PUSH LOVE AWAY?
LET'S DON'T WAIT 'TILL THE WATER RUNS DRY
WE MIGHT WATCH OUR WHOLE LIVES PASS US BY
LET'S DON'T WAIT 'TILL THE WATER RUNS DRY
WE'LL MAKE THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF OUR LIVES
DON'T DO IT BABY....

.....

the group all left to go north up to the himalayas. to perform for tibetan refugees to clown around without me (my choice) to spread joy.

i stayed behind to carry on solo. i've decided on varanasi. i'm flying out of delhi tomorrow morning to land in one of the oldest living cities on earth. legend says that the buddah came there to speak after he attained enlightenment. on the banks of the gange river men shave and women wash clothing and everyone bathes and splashes away their sins in the polluted holy water where its said if you die there, you will be freed from the chains of reincarnation. so it is there, in varanasi, where the sick and lame hobble to drop. where those who have left their homes, die nameless and burn in public flames. where drumming and wailing and singing and splashing water and sunight and prayer all mix into some chaotic whirlwild where the grand cycle of life is made painfully, beautifully clear.

i know i need this. some distance, some perspective. space to put things back together in myself. have an experience that's all mine. something to carry with me, through a clear lens, not foggy, not colored, not tampered with or broken. i am throwing myself towards this with a clarity and a power that i have been searching for outside myself for far too long.

let this be what i need. let this be what i have been asking for. let it be. let it be. let it be.

MY CLOWNS

2007-03-13T06:04:00.000-07:00

my clowns are all boys from across the street except luke, he's from the embassy school, and it's such an interesting experience communicating through a middle man (translator) and seeing the results...luke is a good sport, creating a scene with haridas, a goofball who speaks good english, they work well together. really well.
luke plays mr. cool rockstar clown who doesn't realize the janitor behind him is mocking every move he makes. it's interesting seeing this play occur, a white "cool" celebrity type and an indian working class man coming out on top. there is much fun in watching the faces of the other boys who sit and watch and see the work that's been made for the first time, laughing and rooting on their friends.

some of the smaller clowns are getting violent, they love the pratfalls more than anything, the slaps, walking into walls, hitting eachother with chairs, making sounds with their hands that fool the audience, sounds that sound like their hurting.

i've let go a little. let them play. have this time. i give them proper tools, how to's on making the slaps punches and toe stubbings "read" for the audience. i look at what they propose on their own (from improvisation) and then i do my best to help them articulate their intentions more clearly.

tomorrow is the big show. we have t-shirts for the whole group. red shirts with a cool graphic on the back that reads: circus across cultures (in english and in hindi).

we gave each student 10 tickets in hopes that we'll pack the house.

.....

today i went to the ghandi memorial. walked through the house where he lived his last days. he was killed there. now there are interactive touch screen tvs and unusual electronic cubes which flash ghandi quotes in little red lights like those black rectangle signs with the blinking red dots, like the stock market signs in times square. and there are so many workers there gesturing you through the specified path, tour guides, well versed, and ready to help even when it isn't asked for.

i left earlier than the rest of the gang, i wandered the streets of delhi and found a chaat stand (snacks) i ate a pastry or something with delicious filling. dipped it in the sauce. smoked a single cigarette (you can buy them one at a time here) and then i caught a tuk-tuk back to the school. i filmed a little bit of the streets as they wizzed by on my digital camera. the rickety motion of the 3-wheeled taxi made the footage shaky and rough, like a war-zone. i thought, as i taped, i wish i could capture the smells...

clown classes

2007-03-10T02:42:00.000-08:00

my clowns are looking good.

today we did a "show and tell" at the end of our 6-hour long day of CIRCUS ACROSS CULTURES. clown noses have all been handed out, every one's given "falling down" a shot. several people have "walking into a wall" down flat. and there are a handful of clowns who've started working with full-costume already...filling out their clown with vocal sounds, signature gestures and a way of walking that's funny and all their own.

very interesting how the groups from the two schools are mixing (or not mixing). international school students are a funny breed. a lot of them won't claim any country or city as their home, they are here in INDIA because of something their parents do, and it's just one stop, on their life's journey. feelings of displacement, socialization, status...

you should have seen it, the first day...waiting for the students from across the street to show (reminder: half the students in the workshop are from the american embassy school, the other half from the encampment/slum across the street)...we were all in a circle, mostly girls, mostly white, a few from korea, one or two indian..but mostly girls, all but two...and then in come the other half...more than doubling our size (we weren't strict with numbers) and they are ALL boys. ALL OF THEM. they walk in, checking out the elaborate gymnasium, high ceilings, squeaky clean floors, everything looks like it's out of an american movie, like they are all visiting SAVED BY THE BELL or something. they take their seats in the circle, and it's the embassy school girls who react the most. they become shy, judgemental, they scoot closer together. they whisper.

but that was the first day.

today, they were all playing together, all in funny clothes, and expressions, funny walks and voices, their gender and their social status and class disappeared, they suddenly were all: CLOWNS.

we practiced stage slaps. everyone had a partner. we practiced emotional responses, sharing how we feel about something to an audience. i set up an obstacle course and everyone walked through alone, relating to the objects i lay out for them. choosing, one by one, whether to be afraid of the glove or stuffed panda for instance, whether to fall in love or cry hysterically at the globe or Frisbee...all "onstage"...all "in the scene." they were great.

one girl is hesitant. she steps back and watches. sometimes she makes comments under her breath. she isn't a happy girl. i ask her if she's okay, and she shrugs and says "fine." i wonder what keeps her coming back (it's her 3rd day) what is it she's waiting to unlock within herself.

we moved from the hotel to the hostel, because the hotel didn't have a room for us last night. now we go back to the hotel, and stay for 3 nights, before switching back to the hostel for only one more night, and then back to the hotel. it's crazy, but we like the hotel so much, it makes such a big difference when you like where you sleep.

.........

watching on the wall a slide show of pictures, the trip thus far flashing by. thinking, this is what it looks like to the people who weren't there. happy faces, kids and performances. memories on the road. things we wanted to remember, we took those parts with us, the rest just doesn't have to exist. and i like that, i like letting go of the parts we didn't capture. i like making it into something else in retrospect. something i'll love to reflect on for years. and i will, i know it, i will.

girls laughing

2007-03-08T22:27:00.000-08:00

wind and weariness

2007-03-07T22:55:00.000-08:00

uday ("ew,die!")
wanders through the house
unsure of where things are
a guest not yet felling at home.

.......

sometimes i get this way
by body is all tense
there's no release in stretching
no space
no freedom
no place where i can let go
be alone in my body
escape
not be so aware that i'm being watched
not paying so much attention to the outside noises
i'm feeling restricted by the constant reminder
yes, evan there is a whole world outside.

trying to feel my feet on the floor
"find your place to stand"
a teacher told me once
i'm pressing my feet into the floor
like nails i think of jesus hanging on a cross
or a tiger when i'm
holding myself up by my hands
or a monkey jumping
because it's the only thing i can do
that gets me out of my head.

....

cohdi comes over and pounces on me
and i let him
we're entangled in some close knot for a brief second
and i am frozen
paralyzed
for all to see
i don't know what to do.
he's touching me
cohdi's touching me
and i don't know what to do.

...

anne arrived last night
and they're all off and running
out and about
looking for an instrument
shopping
for a gong or a bell
something to bang loudly to get everyone's attention
in the workshops, that is
when everything seems like it's swirlling out of control.
we need one of those. a bell to bring it all back down to zero.

seeing anne in india
jetlagged but still posessing an animal-like sexual power
she walks with it
she knows it
she turns heads.
our group is changing.
a new wind is whispering it's arrival.

anne.
she's a force in any group
she takes her space
and moves freely without inhabitions
from one position to the next
she adjusts when she needs to

when she needs to move she does.

i stayed behind
today
didn't go shopping
i'm staying here
not moving
i'm in one place
not changing anything
because the tools have escaped me.
i'm floating between worlds, you see
and my clown nose is all i have to hold on to.

as bad as it gets
when it gets bad
i can put it on
and be something else
something i know the shape of
the sounds of
the look and the effect of

and it scares me that i like life through those eyes more than my own.

.....

reading THE MOVING BODY: TEACHING CREATIVE THEATRE again, i flip to any page that my fingers choose and i find what i need.

"people discover themselves in relation to their grasp of the external world....neither belief nor identification is enough-- one must be able to genuinely play."

and thoughts occur about the AUDIENCE playing/living with an awareness of "the other."

"a person expressing himself is not necessarily being creative. the ideal, of course, would be for creation and expression to go hand in hand, in perfect harmony. many people enjoy expressing themselves, "letting it all hang out," and they forget that they must not be the only ones to get pleasure from it: spectators must recieve pleasure too."

....

joking about sexual tension is the only way to work through it. when it's thick like smog and you can feel it far away, i look for ways to diffuse it, point out the obvious, play the clown, make it bigger than it is, get swept up, lost, lose my ballance.

i'm working off of physical cues. on a stage we set together. an arm itch, opens the space for a leg to cross, opens the way for a glance at the moon, opens the way for a throat to clear, opens the way for a sigh.

on the taxi ride back from the airport last night, the air was sharp, shiny, electric. cohdi said goodnight and walked away and an unsatisfied sense of near-closeness haunts me, brushed up against and then a quick retreat, like a turtle senses danger, like a dusty mole hole hiding in the earth. and i don't know what side i'm on. what i'm rooting for.

......

we performed ESCAPE ARTIST last night, i did a clown pre-show, as planned. the lights and sound (my part of things) went super well. i was very happy with my tech team the school provided.

there was a moment clowning when i lost control. there was a swarm of kids and they were attacking me. chasing me on stage, up the aisles. hitting me, laughing, pushing me over, because they knew i would fall. and i had lost all the power in the situation, i was their fool.

feeling powerless as a clown is devastating. unable to guide the action forward. to hear and respond. to make a movement in any direction, and be stalled.

i loved their joy, their freedom, the permission they felt each had to leave their seats and engage with me.

the line between. a gray line. someplace where safety is questioned and chaos sneaks through the cracks. i am living here now, in this gray place. maybe just for the day, a few more hours, or minutes. i am feeling it now. stuck in the middle of some chasm. everything in question. everything uncertain. no clear way through the thicket to the road that leads me home.

.....

uday picks up the phone and dials someone he can talk to in his first language
he helps himself to the phone
and i see him
and the look on his face lacks appology (not that it needs one)
but i get the feeling it's because he is taking care of himself
he needed to call someone, he knows that, and so he did.

we're both here in the silence of this place
but his voice is coming out loud and clear.

the itch

2007-03-06T22:22:00.000-08:00

my ankles are covered with red dots. tiny itchy dots all over. bedbugs. i let them bite.

right now the rest of the group is over in the auditorium at the american embassy school in delhi. i'm on the campus, hanging out in (cohdi's dad) gene's house. helping myself to the cupboards. the computer. the anti-itch cream i found behind the mirror...that kind of thing.

so nice to be back in delhi in such a comfortable zone. it's so westernized here, this international school thing. it's like the nicest high school i've ever seen. so clean, and high-tech and modern. the auditorium is gorgeous, an incredible "catwalk" above the beams makes rigging for our show a breeze.

yesterday we walked around the campus at lunch time, i was in full ALVIN mode. tripping, falling, eating people's food, following people, walking into walls, chatting it up. we were advertising our week of workshops. i can't believe they start tomorrow.

today we gain two more members to our group. anne, cohdi's friend i met at burning man, and a man who's name sounds like "eww, die!" but i can't spell it. i won't even try. he'll be teaching MALAKAM (sp?) which is the indian rope sport (a lot like the rope acrobatics the gang does in ESCAPE ARTIST) for the workshops we start tomorrow with the students from the school and the slum across the street. i'm teaching clown, cohdi's teaching acrobatics and tumbling, alessandra's teaching stilt-walking and laura's teaching trapeeze. anne will be documenting the process and hanging out with us for the rest of our time here.

tonight we perform the show ESCAPE ARTIST (i'll be doing an ALVIN pre-show) and then go to the airport to pick up our friends.

i'm so interested in how the group dynamics shift...

a new chapter.

here we go.

mr. potato

2007-03-06T05:28:00.001-08:00

wild horses

2007-03-06T05:25:00.000-08:00

alvin takes a note

2007-03-06T05:22:00.001-08:00

airport beers and beach photo-op

2007-03-06T05:21:00.001-08:00

sign for us in midnapore

2007-03-06T05:20:00.000-08:00

falling in sonapore and getting attacked by the students

2007-03-05T01:53:00.001-08:00

plaques from a school in sonapore

2007-03-05T01:52:00.000-08:00

beer and paneer

2007-03-05T01:17:00.000-08:00

the giant globe at the heart of auroville looks like a golden golf ball on legs. inside, apparently, is a crystal ball and white pillars and the sun comes through and spreads light...we aren't allowed in because it is under construction, the inner chamber still needs some work.

there's a silent hum around this place. the grass is obviously brought in and laid out, kept tight to the ground by workers, watered by hand. there are signs which read KEEP TO THE PATH. i can't help but make this symbolic.

we rent bicycles and peep around. it is clearly a spiritual community. a self-sustaining village right outside of pondecherry, a french colony 2 hours from mahabalipuram along the coast. we are here for the day. all visitors must watch an introductory video with information about "the mother" a french woman who moved to india and stayed here with a her guru named aurobindo until her death. the video is very high-science. lots of images of dna strands and the universe in motion. the village is planned out like outer-space, the map they give us is a spiral galaxy, in the center is the golf ball sun. people here keep to a tight curfew but the land is owned communally and there is no money. but by the look of this place, money had to have come from somewhere...it looks like we're in 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY everything but the globe is white and outdated, like yesterdays dream of the future, it was after all built in the 1960's. there should be fembots running around, hunting for enlightenment in white go-go boots.

on our bikes we negotiate silently who's to lead. i get grumpy and tired of being led around, so i zoom by as fast as i can and leave everyone in the dust.

on the beach we swim and sit and get sand in our hair and i don't look at cohdi at all.

.....

at a bar throwing back rum and pineapple juice, with louise, a backpacker friend we met in mahabalipuram...we're staying together me and her, not with the group, but at a different hotel, just for the night, and it is definitely nice to have a break. some time.

but for now, this moment here, drinks are in hand, and the ocean is over our shoulder, we're all here, me, louise, cohdi and the rest of the gang and it's awkward, things are still awkward...cohdi's talking to everyone and i'm staring at the moon wanting everything to somehow change. just change! on the walk back to the hotel louise and i talk about the noticeable level of tension and god and bikinis, while a diseased stray dog follows us for three blocks.

.....

in mahabalipuram a man notices the green pendant i found on the beach. cohdi and i both spotted it, he said i could have it and he helped tie it on. i'm wearing it around my neck now, and he asks if i'm a muslim. i say no. inside his shop he tells me that what's inside the small fabric square is someone's prayer, some words for someone's pain or protection, nothing to take lightly. in the morning i come back to his shop, and he opens it, my beach necklace, and reads the paper inside and instructs me to throw it directly into the ocean saying it is "very bad. not for you."

he places his hand on my head and blows some magic breath in my face reading some words from a book that looks as old as time.

down at the beach the town is celebrating some festival, a shrine to VISHNU on a raft, it's being taken into the water by shirtless men and drums and people wailing, releasing. i take the necklace in my hand, shove through the crowd, with all it's broken pieces i wrap it into a bundle, weighted by a stone, and throw it to the waves.

.....

i got two hour-long massages by alan, a young man from the village, one of the few who doesn't own a stone carving shop or net fish. for 300 rupees in his room i lay on some sticky vinyl table and to the sounds of people outside in the market place bargaining and talking, horns honking in the distance, and the chickens...he makes everything i don't need anymore go away with his hands. the oil is from KARALA, a nearby state, his family is there, it smells like smoke and mystery.

after the second day, i ask him out for a beer. and we talk under a bamboo roof about
life and language...he says that americans talk like they're chewing gum.

on the beach with alan, on a rock and laughing, cohdi and laura on a nearby rock, but far away. cohdi, i sense is jealous. maybe i'm wrong. maybe i just want him to be, on some level. maybe it's all in my head. maybe maybe. maybe i want him to be hurt, dissatisfied, out of control.

alan's girlfriend in germany sounds beautiful. i guess a lot of germans come through mahabalipuram, he says she'll be back soon. he can read her messages but doesn't know how to write back.

.......

back in delhi after our adventure away. back to scheduled time and itineraries. we check-in to our hotel and go over to cohdi's dad's house. he's not home, so we have the place to ourselves. i head to the computer and write this.

.....

louise was talking about being sick but unable to puke. a friend was near her, trying to help saying repeatedly, "think of beer! beer and paneer!" and it worked.

mahabalipuram

2007-03-01T02:40:00.000-08:00

there's a man on the ground half alive and barely breathing flies on his wounds eyes pinched closed unable to move he's planted himself on the ground. naked wounds exposed to the unforgiving sun he's landed right in front of a store with a sign that reads: medicine. i walk by scoping the streets for a cyber cafe someplace to check my emails write some words down. getting good at saying no. "come see my shop? not far walk. close. good prices." NO. today a woman holding a child asked "you want a baby?" NO. "take it." she offered. handmade crafts. nothing like it in the world, a man promises. i apply some more sunscreen and search for shade.

i'm alone. we arived two hours ago in mahabalipuram, a small beach town south of chennai, where there are many other travelers more than we've seen thus far, lots of dreadlocked british twenty-somethings looking for a party. after negotiating for a hotel price we liked and settling in, the gang went off to the beach. i took to the village, wandering aimlessly soaking up the sun.

stone carvings the sounds of marble chipping as i walk. fish drying in the sun. shells on strings. fabric blowing, bleaching in the breeze. i have so much laundry to do. everything i have is filthy. remembering chennai. we visited a school for "spastic adults" (mentally handicapped) and i clowned with them, pretended to get stuck under their wheelchairs, stole their drool hankie and dropped and slipped on it and picked it up and returned it.

as i write this a small boned dark indian woman in a shawl sweeps under my feet with a branch.

in chennai we were greeted by usha a woman who uses her shoulders a lot when she speaks. kinda like she's shrugging off the parts she doesn't like, constantly discarding something. she has sweet eyes and a classic smile and she takes us to a dance performance which is amazing. the music was incredible and the performers faces told stories there are not enough words to tell.

we have now performed ESCAPE ARTIST for over 12,000 people. articles with pictures of us have been popping up in the local papers daily, and yesterday's daily chronical had a few quotes from me. i got interviewed by some camera crew and a chessy capped-teethed reporter as well. they asked me what i ate to be able to fall down so much.

children outside are coughing and screaming words i can't know. cars are honking. it smells like fish and spices and sweat and diesel fuel.

it's too hot to stay in here. i need to pay my 40 rupees and find a place with a/c.

more soon.

flowers in kolkata

2007-03-01T02:39:00.000-08:00

kolkata

2007-02-21T01:38:00.000-08:00

fish on the street, plucked chickens on tarps, flesh for sale in back alley markets, sweat shop jeans for sale and shirts and ties, american flags on the buckle, though they were all made in china. "mineral water, please?" nothing from the tap, avoiding the bacteria, foreign to my body, though it's what they steamed my rice in, washed my fruit with, i'll just cross my fingers and hope for the best.

we arrived in kolkata in the morning, several days ago, burning heat, a new climate, very different than delhi, more trees. in west bangal, they speak hindi, bangali and english, the signs in the street use all three. we meet rafique with the embassy bus, riding around in a government vehicle, the only white people in sight, we are getting used to the stares and snickers, sometimes i play with people's looks, break into clown mode, goof off. they love it.

manoj was introduced as our technical assistant but he became more of a friend, a member of our group. leaving kolkata tomorrow morning...we're sad he's not coming along.

at all of our performances he was right on the ball. translating left and right, manning the dvd projector, never missing a beat. we gave him a card today when we said goodbye.

chaos around the temple, kali the destroyer, lines around the block, anointing myself with coconut milk and taking off my shoes. peddlers pretending to be guides trying to charge us an entrance fee "this way, around the back..."

performing clown in the field in front of the stadium where 10,000 people came to watch the "escape artists from the usa" tripping and falling messing with people in line, the whole town of MIDNAPORE where rafique is from, dressed to the 9's.

......

we're being lead somewhere up some stairs, fabric on the walls, music playing, television noise, where are we? after driving 2 hours through rice fields and concrete buildings crumbling away and children sifting through gravel and paving streets and sewing garments on the highway and cows holding up traffic taking their sweet time to get from one grass hut lined side of the street to the other...after 2 hours of talking with rafique and manoj about america and gender and why we couldn't perform for the muslim boys school (they wouldn't let laura and alessandra through the doors), talking about marriage and culture and bangali's famous sweets (lots of fried gooey balls) and music and bollywood and language and haircuts...here we are in this stairway marching up and up it seems to never stop...we come to a room like a hotel room where there is tea and flowers, fragrant flowers, everywhere and packages with our names on them, handmade rugs and handkerchiefs, plaques and bows. we speak with the local officials we eat some food with our hands, and we go to set up our show.

.....

the potato man wants his picture taken. he is sitting in the lotus position, legs crossed and grinning wide, seeing us, obviously not from around here, he asks "you have camera?" and in his picture his face is beaming, i show it to him on my digital screen, his eyes twinkle, i notice that about this place, how children in india somehow all keep their twinkle into adulthood, they don't lose it somewhere, they hold on...

...

i performed today. the venue was outside and we rigged our set-up on bamboo tied securely to the cement walls of an islamic school in some misty jungle town where human rickshaws are still legal and the only cars you see are passers through...

1,000 children ages 4-17 gathered around and we improvised a show, myself included, since there were no lights to run i put on my clown nose and the yellow plaid shirt and black slacks i bought for 200 rupees on the road outside the gate, which is manned by the man selling plastic toys and razors on his best woven carpet mat. during the show, in full swing, i grabbed a kid's backpack and took a look inside, i reached in and pretended like my hand was being swallowed by some unseen evil lurking in the dark of that young boy's vinyl pack. kids screams and squealed, gaffawed and waved hello. i shook man hands and pretended like they wouldn't let go of me, like i was stuck to them, or trying to escape, i feigned panic, i mimicked fear, i fell and got dirty and i laughed at the teachers, impersonated them, i stole their pens when they weren't looking, i chased chickens and swatted flies, i flirted with girls and tried to keep my shirt tucked in. the kids roared in laughter. my heart swelled. my first official performance in india and afterwards i was signing hundred of autographs, surrounded by little reaching hands and joy-filled brown eyes and unbrushed smiles. like i was brad pitt or something. the closest they'll ever come to the american dream. after the show i was taken up on the roof of the school by the president of the academy and we stared into the distance, the abyss together and he said, "please sir. come back someday."

...

i walked by the salon, taking a break from group, seeking something all my own..."hmmm" i thought "what if...." i stayed in the salon for several hours cutting and dying and styling my head, it's now short and dark brown, spiky and fresh, with highlights of copper gold...it was a social experiment, how do i communicate with these people what i want when they have no clue what i'm saying???

the guy who spoke the most english was running around, or perhaps "flitting' would be the more appropriate word, unable to translate many of my requests...he himself had long curls and bleached blond streaks, nail polish and eye-liner and reeked of designer impostor perfume. he wore a wedding ring and although he gossipped with the other stylists about me, little whispers and giggles, he talked about a wife and his devotion to shiva. one of the men in a tight half-buttoned shirt gave me a head and face massage while we all waited for the sink to get fixed (it never did, some skinny kid with ripped shorts and no shoes who they called out from the back room came and poured warm water by the cup full over me.) i said thank you many more times than i needed to, i'm sure. all these "no no no...after you's" and "no, please i insist." all these polite words can't really console a person who bathes on the street, hangs their clothes over the fence, sells belts by the arm load and will never smell clean air.

tomorrow, by the orange smoggy sunirse of kolkata we will fly to channai. and do this some more.

.....

LINK

2007-02-18T22:32:00.000-08:00

CHECK OUT THIS!

this is a glimpse into the community across the street from the american embassy school where we'll be working with students to make a show. half the students will be prep-school, rich, children of ambassadors, and government workers from all over the world, the other half will be from this slum:

http://www.shantishop.com/vivekanand.html

ALSO:

i enabled comments on this blog. you can now add comments, thoughts, and questions.

PLEASE DO!

delhi

2007-02-18T22:04:00.000-08:00

seeing the cows in the road, on the dirt, piles of trash they're walking through, birds perched on their sleeping backs, and smelling chai, steaming in copper pots, somewhere, and men gathered 'round with children peeking through, trying to get a look some television in a window, we walk by, and they stare, point, and laugh, and speak the english that they know "hello" "good day to you." market after market, and walls crumbling, fruit and vegetables for sale on cloths, spread out on the ground, the seller arrangeing his pieces nicely, everyone wants to make a sale. children slim boned, arms like broomsticks, motioning for something to eat, running, doing kartwheels, flipping, acrobatics learned on the street, a trick, something to get a coin, left-overs, anything to take home to the family. it's their act, they see us coming and in hindi a brother shouts to his dusty sibling "go!" men with red bettle-nut "paan" in their teeth, a stimulant, they smile, greet you, beg for money with their red smiles, their red desparation. walking up the steps and taking off our shoes to enter the largest muslim temple around. so peacful and quiet is the contrast to the screaming, horn honking, babies crying and poker-playing fathers betting...we relax. sit on the ground. absorb the silence. birds are being fed by a woman with seeds in her pouch, she has the most beautiful "sari" on, bright colors, oranges and pink, make-up, a "bindi" jewel on her brow.

we get back on the subway, a new underground train, looks just like new yorks, except all the ads in our car are for condoms and bollywood. we zoom back to someplace closer where we will take a "tuk-tuk" home. but no...the adventure, is not over, i've got more energy thanks to the chai, momentum is gaining speed, i say "i'll meet you guys back at the hostel" and i venture off, away from the group, i'm alone. my "tuk-tuk" (three wheeled green and yellow motorized cart) tail-gates it's way to lodi garden, where i tell the man to stop and i pay him his 70 rupies.

walking around solo now, taking it all in on my own. no one to share it with and so it all sticks. without the context of someone else's amazed eyes to bounce back and forth from, i allow myself to breathe and notice, converse with strangers without any idea of time. i play a game with myself. i'll ask everyone i meet to point me towards their favorite place to eat. this becomes a maze, i weave around around the neighborhood, circling past the same flowershops, man on the ground peircing ears, children making bracelets, past the animal bodies, open rib cages, hanging in the window....i keep walking.

i find myself at a fancy western restaurant. everyone speaks perfect english. the owner, i tell him i'm here with "the circus" and he says "what for, india IS a circus." we laugh. i eat pasta and bread, wine and tea. one man sitting next to me leans over "my parents say hot and cold is no good. bad for your health." i say "wine makes me sleepy. tea wakes me up!" we laugh at that, he sees my logic, he has a sweet face.

after dinner, a man in a tuk-tuk is waiting to talk to me. he sees me coming and i see him. we talk about america, george bush and 9-11. we talk about pakistan and hollywood, i say i'm from california and his eyes wake-up like i'm waving a million dollars in his face. he takes me to a shop where his friend works, he wants me to spend money but i don't. he wants me to get back in his tuk-tuk but i don't. when he's looking away i sneak off and walk some more.

the electrical lines are a mess, so messy, they become art. they cross that line. sculptures of knotted wires, entangled, obscene, right above my head.

two children run up and motion for food (little clawed hands bouncing back and forth from their mouths)...i start making hand motions of my own, and they laugh at me. it becomes a game, their claws and mine. like a puppet show, or pattycake, we're playing, store-keepers are watching me, everyone smiles.

when i return to the hostel i collapse. in the morning i call home and attempt to put the experience in my mouth. i say what i can, the way i can, and i start the day.

INDIA HAPPENS.

2007-02-16T21:42:00.000-08:00

here i am in new delhi. breakfast sitting in my belly. twisted trees making shady splotches on the wall outside my window. the plane rides were long. on the flight to germany we sat behind the babies row, that is the second row when traveling economy, and their crying and screaming combined with the impossibly stuffy hot temperature and cramped seating made sleep impossible. we arrived in frankfurt at 11:15 on the morning of the 16th. there were images of j.lo on the tv in the terminal as we waited to board for india. watching international news with a bunch of europeans and eastern indians and seeing america on tv, like we're some shining star is a real trip. glitz and glam and plastic smiles, as if everyone in america owned a lexus.

i slept on the plane to delhi missing the bollywood films and the second meal. i went to the bathroom, leaving my bags with the group as were waiting in line in customs. my first mini-culture shock was seeing the toilets. holes in the ground with a little cup for rinsing, well, you're you know what. luckily in the airport there was a second stall, with its door reading: "european" and these ones were the porceline thrones i'm used to from home. when i went to wash my hands a man appeared. a small indian man with a kind face. he pushed the faucet on for me. and then pushed the button that dispenses soap. and then he pushed the faucet on again and handed me a paper towel. i nodded and got back in line.

the guy at the currency exchange line gave laura who was ahead of me exchanged currency for her measly $15 american. i was next and i handed him the little money i had, $35. he said, "no sir, nothing under a hundred." and he shooed me away. moments like these are called "indian moments" by cohdi's dad, who greeted our flight. the people here are unpredictable, schedules, commitments, protocall, they're all subject to change on whim. the drive to the hostel was like mr. toad's wild ride. tail-gating is commonplace. we rode the back of several three-wheeled taxis before they either moved or sped up. there was a bus driving in the opposite direction on our one-way street, the driver swerved to avoid colliding with us, but kept on driving the wrong way. people take "short cuts" all the time, gene (cohdi's dad) says, the cops don't mind unless you hit someone.

he checked into our hostel and showered and brushed teeth. cohdi and i wrote in our journals next to eachother, he in his rock-hard single bed and me in mine. i don't mind the beds here, i like em firm anyhow.

this morning i awoke to the sounds of birds, and some one outside sweeping, and motorbikes zooming by, and conversations in hindi, all outside our bedroom window. outside we walked to meet cohdi's dad for breakfast. we stopped only for chai, and to pose with some smiling indian women who wanted to take our picture.

cohdi's dad works for the international school and walking into his apartment (owned by the embassy, for teachers to live in) it was like walking back into the usa for a bit. the whole world changed while we ate fruit and quiche and chatted about george bush and stretched in the living room discussing globalization.

today is still young. it's 11:45am on tuesday feb. 17th. day 1. who knows what we'll do. i think the plan is to go exploring. see what we find. gene has SKYPE a web-based phone system, so i called home, but missed my family. weird to think that right now it's yesterday there, that it's night and not day, that i'm somewhere in their future.

more to come. much much more.

christmas in sante fe

2007-02-13T09:40:00.000-08:00

in new mexico, everything is drenched in chile. green or red. if you get both it's called "christmas." i'm sitting here, borrowing amanda's laptop, in this adorable little restaurant right around the corner from where her and sarah-jane are staying, the same place i stayed when i came here last summer for their wedding. it was that place i brought cohdi to after the wedding party, it was that place where this whole thing kinda began. i ordered a breakfast burrito "christmas" style. so i could sit here and write this and reflect. things are kinda coming full circle.

i hadn't checked my myspace account in a few days. i got a message from my friend meghan saying when she realized it was feb. 11th she was looking at my name in her journal...the number 11, as a lot of people in my life know, has always been a good sign. and dita, my friend from double edge theatre, wrote me another "myspace comment" saying she woke up today at 11:11 and SHE thought of me. people are seeing 11 and thinking of me. cool. i feel like that's a good thing for sure. yep, i think i'm right where i need to be.

funny, not only am i staying with sarah-jane and amanda's friend kathy for a few days, just like my first trip here, i also got dropped off yesterday at the sante fe center for contemporary arts, to see a viewing of VOLVER a new film, i've been waiting to see, and that is the same location that they got married at! it's like i'm being re-introdced to the sante fe i first saw, not "cohdi's sante fe" whatever that place was for me...but now i'm seeing it again as i saw it before, and it's showing itself to me with all this new-found mystery, awe and inspiration. there was a strange art installation at the gallery attached to the movie theatre. there were hundreds of pig nipples on the wall. and fish heads on the floor. ceramic tails and heads and animal parts making shadows on the wall, and paths on the ground, walking trails made of hoofs, fins and eyeballs. the movie was a melodrama, beautifully filmed and acted, sad story. i sat outside afterwards, waiting for the girls to pick me up, sitting there in my melancholy, reading my peter pan book, which i've been slipping into my reality here since it all began, little folds and creases of magic and make believe, weaved into the chaos. a chapeter a week, not even. i let each sentance last a minute. it's like medicine.

they picked me up and we went to a potluck. there was a man there who was a ringling bros. clown professionally and he just got back working with "kids first" in the middle east as a clown ambassador. there are so many amazing contacts here in new mexico, new friends, projects that are really exciting, artists getting incredible funding...self-sustaining artists...creativity everywhere. new ideas...

at the potluck two woman spontaneously got up and did a reading of a play one of them just wrote, a little 5 minute scene. it was so cool to see adults and people who are established here doing this kind of thing, sharing their work, playing, lauging, i watched a video of children putting on a show in front of ruins somewhere on the other side of the world. there was a check mark on the wall behind their little make-shift stage...the check mark meant someone had checked it for landmines and hidden bombs...i guess the area they were in was cleared.

we came back home after the potluck and stayed up late talking and laughing.

some background: sarah-jane (dear friend from DELL'ARTE) and amanda (her honey) weren't planning on being back from brazil before we left for india, but sarah-jane's health wasn't so good, and so they left their project early (they were working with OPA, an organization that teaches physical theatre and circus arts to underpriviledged kids on the beaches of sunny brazil)...she's come back to "the land of healers" to get some advice from doctors she knows, and some alternative methods, whatever does the trick. funny thing is, she keeps calling her doctors she's worked with and trusted for years, and they are too sick to take calls or make appointments. still, they both agree it was the right idea to come back home. be around friends. something familiar. i hope she gets well soon. it's so great to see them. i love them both dearly.

i go back up the hill to penasco today. i have to buy some items for the trip (we're leaving on thursday!!!)...i have been down here in sante fe since sunday, and once again, it's been so refreshing to have some space, some time away.

things right now are exciting, fresh, i feel renewed, lucky to have friends near me, i'm gathering energy right now for the journey, re-fueling.

on the phone last night cohdi said he misses me, that it feels like i've been gone a long time and he loves me. that's the first time he's said that since i've gotten here. the timing felt right though, strangely. and hearing it was easy, and saying i love you too, was simple. there wasn't a lot of weight attached. it just happened. on it's own. love doesn't have to be heavy. it can roll off, wash over you like sunlight, you can bask in it, let it absorb. it doesn't have to hit you hard, you can
feel it on you, without taking the blow.

whatever. love. i have love. i have love for cohdi. and so many other wonderful people in my life. i can express it. i can house that love and share it. love is good.

there's a church nearby at chimayo (pronounced: chim-aye-oh) that has magic dirt. people come from all over to touch it, take a bit home, there's a hole in the floor in the sanctuary, and you just reach in, i guess. it heals you. a girl i met was telling me, the hole in the floor runs out, and so they just dig around behind the church to fill it back up. some worker does that each day, every morning, before visting hours begin. doesn't that mean all the dirt is magical? not just the dirt in the magic dirt hole? why aren't people rubbing their hands in the same stuff out in front of the post office?

magic dirt, and christmas burritos. clowns on planes to change the world. love and emotions and feelings and joy through a prism. light broken up, the image obscured.

we see what we can from where we are. we reach in a grab a handful and so the healing begins.

maybe the healing is in the reaching. it's not in what you grab.

opening night ESCAPE ARTIST!

2007-02-10T01:07:00.000-08:00

well, we did it. our first show.
before i went up into my tech booth, we huddled together, shared a good pre-show moment. that was nice.
watching the audience file in (a small but mighty crowd, pretty good considering we didn't do any offical advertising), i got really excited.
alessandra came up the ladder to take her place (there's access to the roof from there, and her entrance is from above, thru the skylight in the theatre, and down a long white rope.
we hugged and said "have a good show." her and i are warming up to eachother i think. for a while there i think we just weren't sure how to do that.
the show ran so smoothly. i loved watching it tonight. they were really on it. it totally came together in the last few days, like it seems to always do, and i can certainly say i am proud to be bringing this show to the other side of the world with these people.
after the show, cohdi and i shared a cigarette, which we do now and then, mostly when i've had a drink or two (tonight it was whiskey, hot water and honey.) we chatted about india, he said he's glad i'm coming with him.
tomorrow night i think i'm doing a pre-show act as alvin, my clown. something improvised. we'll see what happens. i'm trying not to get nervous about it.
another thing, there's been talk about making a show to bring to the oregon country fair this summer. that would mean coming back here, maybe getting a little coffee job in taos or something, while we make something, the four of us, this time, with me as a performer.
i like this idea. i told them if they wanted me, i'd for sure do it. and they say they want me. clown or no clown. they want to see, as i do, what collaborating would look like.

there's this guy gard (pronounced "gay-erd")who comes by now and then to shower here and do his laundry. he and his family live in a trailer near by without running water. they have a baby and a 4 year old, who is so precious. she has a shaved head and she gave me a sticker tonight before she left. we talk a lot. she's very talkative. sometimes i think i'd rather talk to her than any of the adults. and i wonder if that's a weird thing to think. we have good talks.
gard sounds like he's from germany, he's got a shaved head too, except for these two little puffs of hair on either side of his head, kinda like horns, only more like a clown wig, little tuffs...i tell him all the time to take one of the clown noses (i have 200, after all).

i made an outline for my clown workshops. i think going in the "character clown" direction is much better than just a lot of silly games, and everyone putting on funny clothes and me designing routines for 45 students. i like the idea of each student finding their funny side, bringing out the most ridiculous side of their personality, flaunting it, sharing it, and seeing what material we can create out of what they're bringing to the table. it's going to be a challenge in only 10 days, but even if everyone only finds one thing (a gesture, a facial expression, a sound, a walk) that's funny...perhaps we can spend the week developing those "starting points" into something (a funny hip swinging walk turns into a stuffed behind, a funny sneeze turns into a character with glasses and a hanky, an alergy ridden dork)...we'll have to wait and see. i just couldn't get into any of the "clown games for kids" i was reading and researching.
i'm going to trust my gut on this one. it'll be a challenge but it's what i know. character clown, not birtday clown, or circus clown, is what i know. so that's that.

cohdi and laura got their visas today finally. we were all really stressing. it's been quite an ordeal with the consulate. lots of faxes and unanswered phone calls.
tomorrow night after the show there's a band playing, they're called "ray charles ives." they sound pretty groovy, i'm stoked.
that means it'll be a party also, so i'm sure the night will result is some wildness (note: an interesting blog).
it's almost 2:30am and i am ready to crash.
what a good night. what a good show.

going to bed with lots of good feelings about the adventure which lies ahead.

new clothes

2007-02-09T12:59:00.000-08:00

i went to the penasco dump today and in their "re-use center" (an adobe building, covered with spray-paint faces and skulls) and i got a bunch of funky clown clothes to take with us to india. let's see, there's the over-sized bubble gum pink prom dress, the purple jumpsuit, the metalic blouse, the orange board shorts...good stuff. we leave in 6 days. that is so unimaginable.

after the dump i walked to the ice cream parlor and ordered a cone and a scratcher. i sat and ate it with the owner sitting at my table next to me, as we watched fuzzy soap operas and i scratched at my lottery ticket (no win).

the show opens tonight. my techie duties are all recorded on my cue sheets i spent all afternoon yeterday typing up. my little tech booth (the old projection booth, in the theatre) feels homey, i like it. you have to climb a ladder to get up there, but it's nice, there's a window, and it's all my domain.

we had a run-thru last night. a few minor gliches, we hope to work out tonight before the show. i had one or two late cues. it'll be in good shape tonight. i feel good about it.

today we've still got to sweep the theatre, mop, vacuum the carpets, wash the seats. tidy up the loby display...it's so exciting and i feel so nostalgic and happy being "a part of a show." it reminds me of that feeling before every show i've ever done, me as tiny tim, 7 years old, all dressed up and made up, waiting backstage to go on.

things with cohdi and i are fine. nothing too special. kinda distant, but friendly. like we're business partners. he's not feeling well and i sometimes feel the urge to comfort him, be someone he can lean on, but i resist. i think i'm protecting myself.

it's odd. spending a lot of time in groups. with our various clearly defined roles...it makes things less about us. as a pair. a relationship. i am the tech guy (i need a tech guy hat, haha) and that's why i'm here. i don't feel sad about this. i feel relieved that there is some clarity, something concrete, a real reason for my being here.

i wonder what it looks like to him. me pulling away? maybe. he's not getting a lot of individual attention from me these days. not a lot of one-on-one time either, so things kinda just float along. not really evolving, just staying safely beyond arms reach.

if we do share a moment, like a goodbye, or an empty kitchen, tea kettle moment...then sometimes there's an urge to talk about it. what "we've" become. but i again, resist. resisting the "we" conversation. or any "we" thoughts. for now at least.

for now.

sunday 12:51

2007-02-04T11:32:00.000-08:00

not in penasco. i'm in sante fe. with people cohdi doesn't know and it feels good to be here. have some space. give him some. let my emotions rest. let myself relax and laugh with fun people. down to earth people. happy people.

my friend from placerville, jesslyn, just happens to be in new mexico this week, and her friends she's staying with came and picked me up in penasco, over an hour drive, and so i'm here for a few days, and it is lovely being away. her friends are swell.

i feel a little more like i'm back in my life. not a visitor, someone who was invited to stay. i'm a friend. someone's friend. and i'm here and appreciated, and they like me a lot, they tell me that. and it's silly, but it feels so good to be hearing that, to feel affirmed like that. i'm an okay guy. and people appreciate me.

it's sunny outside too. and there's good music playing in their house.

the pipes back in penasco broke which means no running water until someone can fix it. when i left they were melting snow on the wood stove so they could flush the toilets. man, i'm glad to get out of there.

talking with people about theater and clowning, people without expectations or prior knowledge of me, this new circle, and connecting from NOW, not some ambiguous BEFORE place.

i talked to a guy here about a 10 day meditation retreat, it's the second time it's been mentioned around me this week, it sounds great. no talking, no eye contact with anyone, complete silence and reflection, for 10 days. you stay for free and they feed you delicious food. i want to do it this summer. i will.

i had a dream last night which my parents were in, we were all at burning man, but it looked like my old high school football feild. and there was a speaker talking about a couple's cruise, and my mom leaned over to my dad and said, oh let's do that. and i walked to the bathroom to wash the clay mask i had all over my face off. and the shower had a statue next to it that spoke about VIRGO's needing to be saved that they were the people of the harvest, and needed tending to. cohdi's a virgo, and in the dream i didn't make that connection. i had a camera, too, that got water in it, so i was drying it out, so it would work again, and the light was on, and that was a bad thing.

i woke up to jesslyn jumping on me and telling me it was time to get up and go to breakfast. it was divine.

a good new mexico breakfast always does the trick.

trust and tears

2007-02-03T11:22:00.001-08:00

last night after some strangely massochistic act of self torture (reading letters cohdi and i wrote each other months ago...leading up to my coming here, filled with anticipation, romance, expression...) i marched over there to cry against the bump his shoulder made, and try the best i could to articulate why i was in pain. after some good old fashioned spilling my guts out, i got some clarity about where he's coming from.

WHAT HE WANTS: for it to be easy. not awkard. not tense. for it to flow. for it to happen organically, whatever happens. to not feel needed. to not feel pressure. to not feel expectations hiding behind each touch or smile. for us to both be happy and in our power. for us to laugh.

he talked about permission. how a leg crossing or a hand brushing against another can be an invitation. how it has to be consensual. it has to flow. expectations kill the flow. if i'm only cuddling up to him because i want more, this is not a good reason to cuddle up. or if it is the reason, and i cuddle up, i have to be prepared for his response, whether or not my risk or action is met by one of equal or greater value, or if it is not met at all, if it is ignored or even pushed away.

in all this I WANT: to accept where we both are coming from. no one is better or worse. i want to not feel bad for feeling anything. i am in my own process. everyone has theirs. i want to make light of the awkwardness, find ways to break tension with humor. while this is a good tool to have, and i believe i have it, it is not my job, nor am i responsible to relieve everyone's tension. i want to see clearly and not have to know everything. i want to not think of every action or word as having dire consequences. we're doing the best we can.

affirmations for me:

i love where i am in this journey.
i love how open my heart is.
i am aware of my light and energy and give intent for it's protection.
i am aware of negative thoughts as they attempt to enter my field and i zap them accordingly like they are bugs.
i am looked after and supported by the greater universe, i have help and i can ask for it.
i love this process, i respect it's speed, i know like i know like i know that i am where i need to be.

i am so strong to be in this test. i am ready for the lessons i am learning. as they come old thought patterns and belief systems have permission to leave. as new energy, new learning is invited in, i shed anything which no longer serves me.

i am on a mountain looking at my life, large hills and open spaces, sun and shadows, and it is all so beautiful, every crease and fold, each bump and slope. i am here now, fleeting moment of clarity, not expecting to stay here, for the journey continues, there are more mountains, more cliffs, more tranquil ponds for reflection and more dark shady places of tears. but i appreciate this moment now, where i can see it all from this place, as i step back down on my path, i will remember that a little hieght, a little perspective, is sometimes all i need to remind myself of this. that it is a journey, not a destination, that it is my trust which carries me through.

back on track

2007-01-31T10:52:00.000-08:00

we talked again last night. took inventory. got it all out in the open.
it's amazing how honesty makes you feel so much better.
like a window opened, and the sun's pouring in, and the new air is cleansing out the old.

turns out we've been feeling almost exactly the same things, not knowing how to approach the other, still attracted, but sheepish about showing it. making small advances and feeling like the other person isn't meeting you. things like that.

so we spent a few hours re-connecting, looking through old photographs and watching video footage of cohdi and his friends dangling from strings.

we said goodnight and it felt real, lovely, and sweet.

here's hoping we've both learned from this.
and that we can get to this place easier next time.
trust, faith...

we'll see.

SUCKS

2007-01-30T12:14:00.000-08:00

i should change the name of this blog to "INDIA: over-coming awkwardness, playing the fool and darting around the issue."

blah blah blah

2007-01-28T13:12:00.000-08:00

feeling low again
seasonal
just a phase
wait it out
dodging people like bullets
alcohol makes me more myself
and that’s frightening
I’m aware of my dangerous tendencies
to look at the floor
and not engage
make no adjustments out of fear
my mantra
the tape is always slipping
so I forget to tell myself
all the things I know that help
I came here wanting to be in love
I came here wanting to be seen
as me
meet people who were intrigued
open
looking to meet me
but people are where they are
not always as curious
as open
not always looking to be seen
and meghan said I am a disarming person
my constant searching for authentic moments
although selective
some moments are better than others
I must think
because otherwise I could sit there
like that lady with the gorillas
jane something
and observe
simply observe
not judge
witness myself like from a cloud
and actors feel
so they say
I’m supposed to feel
the whole archetype of the tortured artist
bleeding heart and no where to turn but creation
and it’s sticky
trying to create
when I feel all this resistance
but in a way it’s brilliant
double edge talked about resistance
and clown talked about buoyancy
being able to bounce
not sink
and I don’t want to be
sinking
anymore
yesterday I asked myself for help
in the bathtub
kryon speaking through cohdi’s loudspeakers
channeling some wisdom
permission
it’s all about permission
permit thyself to be.
and the struggle is so much a part of it
I knew it would be
present, the struggle
kahlil gabran says your sorrow carves more room to hold joy
and I want to believe that is true
it sounds like it is
so maybe.
I don’t want to be somebody’s fool
If I’m not being my own
I wear my clown nose for myself
to allow you in
I will not be exploited
don’t expect to laugh at me
I will let you laugh when I’m ready
to be funny
I want to be funny
and I am
hilarious
to myself
in the empty space
when I’m all dressed up
and tripping over my words
and feet
and steps I pretend not to see
and it’s brilliant
the failure
it’s majestic
the flub-ups
so I look for them
so I can have release
I look for them
so I can let you see
all the imperfections I spend so much time obscuring
I let you see
and I want to be in that space always
without performing
always
willing to jump in and save the ship from falling
like in the circus
when something unexpected happens
the clowns are sent in
to save the day
I expect that of myself
and it’s insane
to save every falling moment
from crashing
burning
in social interactions
I expect myself to be on the ball
always
ready to keep us all afloat.
and who gave me that responsibility?
why is it up to me to keep it together
keep it flowing
I may be aware of the flow
but I am not in charge of it
I want to know when to jump in
when the current presents itself
I want to jump
I want to see the opening
and go
I want to drift
I want to be moved and pushed
I want to fly for a while
be taken somewhere
I need to go
I need release
I need to let go
I need to not think so much
look so hard
I need to be shaken
slapped and shaken
spit on
I need to be reminded of who I am
all this make-believe imagined “I know what I know”
bullshit
is getting in the way
of my silence
in the way of that place where I do know
really
that I am where I need to be
and sometimes I get a flash of that
I see this spot where I am
now
from the future
just a dot on my life’s path
and I like looking at it from there
looking it at it like it was one of many experiences of my life
one of many
that influenced the person that I am to become.
try to keep your head on
try to laugh more
try to have fun
and not get in the way.
everything is truly perfect.
I’ll see it that way.
maybe not till later.
but I will.
I’ll see it my way.
soon it will be something else
we’ll all be out of the water
plopped someplace totally new
where the colors are bright
and men hold hands
and steaming chai in pots
line the dusty streets
I am here
but the journey is still waiting to begin
I have arrived but haven’t left
I am getting ready I think
to leave all this behind
so I do
say goodbye
to my insecure longing for something other that what is
I am to be content without the waiting
be whole without the “coulds” and “shoulds.”
leaping
a running start
engine trouble but it’s back on track
pushing
wheels spinning
it goes somewhere
and it takes me there too.

penasco morning all alone

2007-01-27T10:25:00.000-08:00

i slept in taos, it was too dark to see how beautiful it was. but in the morning i could see where i had slept. and now i'm back, home alone in penasco. doing laundry. sipping matte. performing for no one in the cold theatre, blasting music, singing loud.

untitled

2007-01-26T12:22:00.000-08:00

last night's show was beautiful. the images, the lines made by the performer's bodies, androgynous and slender, high up on stilts, running, falling, back bends and swinging in the air, dressed in unusual robotic out-fits, electronic music, it was great.

after the show we went to a bar, i sat at the end of the table and felt incredible outside of the action, it was horrible. i drank two gin-and-tonics and was much more at ease. i really hate this dependency on alcohol our society has, what we need is permission from ourselves, not a chemical, to be free. i've got all the advice i need to give myself, now, it's time to hear it.

we went to a house-party where i danced and introduced myself to everyone. i felt great meeting people without cohdi's influence, these were people i was getting to know, on my own, some of them didn't know who cohdi was, and for some reason that felt great.

when he arrived (we drove separately, i was driven by anne, a friend i met at burning man, she was my date for the night) i was having fun, moving to the music, chatting it up, laughing. there's something about our delicate dynamic, once he was there, i was very aware of his presence in the room. my fun in front of him. how that felt. was it some kind of "i don't need you to enjoy myself" jab? or was i really just enjoying myself in the room, in a space, that we shared? so complicated, and petty these emotions...

there's certainly a bubble between us, a divide. he's more affectionate with me than i am with him, he's affectionate with everyone. and the friends he likes the best hang all over him, i think he needs that, and because i'm not giving it to him, maybe he senses there's something he's not doing, or something he's doing wrong. this isn't necessarily true, the only thing that feels wrong is something i'll take full responsibility for. it's my own inability to feel safe, secure, comfortable, confident in this new environment. if i had moved here, into an apartment maybe, in this entirely new town, knowing nobody...i would be in a better space. ready to make friends. ready to begin anew. instead, i have come here, i was invited, to live here, in a world that isn't mine, in a social dynamic so rigidly well-formed, with each person playing their role which greatly benefits the group. and i wonder, what role is mine? i am wanting a role.

as a clown, i step onstage and i am ready for anything. i am listening more than i am talking, more than i am making anything happen, i am listening for what it is, what it wants of me, the room, the audience, my body, the sounds...

i feel safer around these people with my clown nose on. i feel better behind a mask. they see me exactly as i am intending them to, i am in control of myself, complete control, i am a craftsman, i am building something, and i am sharing, they are watching me create.

in life without the nose, without an agreement, without the pact we make the one where i say yes, i will be ridiculous, yes, i will risk everything for you...without this i am a person struggling to keep my feet on the floor, stuggling to stay in myself, not wander away. it's a struggle to not get involved in the energies of other people, get lost in them. sometimes i wonder when i'm looking into someone's eyes, if i'm searching too deep, if i look away, will we have to start all over?

i woke up this morning in anne's living room, and i left the house without saying more than 5 words to cohdi. i couldn't be there. i just left. on my walk i found a little crepe shop and i ordered breakfast and spilled my guts into a notebook for an hour and a half. my text message to cohdi read: i found a place to eat. i'm enjoying my solitude. call me if you want to hang out later.

i kept putting on the page WHAT DO YOU WANT? is it him? and my words avoided and redirected, everytime.

i know this, i want ease. all i want right now, is an ease, a lightness, a return to the open, ready, available, non-expectant feeling of self that i've held on to before. i know i am capable, now, for god's sake, where are YOU evan?

i sat in the cathedral, this very old cathedral for st. francis of asisi (sp?), and i lit a candle, one for me, one for cohdi, and one for chenelle and her family. her grandmother is sick, her heart is growing weak, and i thought how small and insignificant my "problems" are. how i'm taking these issues, this confusion, this frustration to india, where some people have no place to bathe, nothing to eat, arms the width of fishing poles. who am i to fret about this? to not be greatful? have joy?

a cycle of self-loathing, anger at myself for feeling what i'm feeling, isn't the answer i need. what help does that do?

intentions:

i give intent with all my power and trust in the universe to live my day to day life with integrity, strength, compassion and humor.

i give intent to see the light. to look for god everywhere. to see myself in others.

i give intent to re-connect with my inner-joy. that it may be outer-joy soon.

later this day i sat across the table and looked at cohdi and everytime i have to recognize him all over again, i see him, and there's a "i know you?" feeling. like seeing him at burning man dancing with him, this stranger, pure synchronicity at work, that we were at the same place at the same time, and he knew who he was dancing with long before i saw who this man was, this man in a head dress, short shorts, covered in dust and made-up like a dream.

the truth of course is that we don't know eachother. not at all really. but this person was the person on the phone, was the person in those emails, and that person sounded sincere, we both did, like we had something to say, but we lost it. and now we talk about the weather.

michelle called me back while i was sitting on a bench in the sunshine. she told me what i needed to hear. that this process is unfolding exactly as it needs to, as it has to. we are right where we need to be.

1/25

2007-01-25T13:59:00.000-08:00

sitting in the sunshine with a cup of strong coffee and chatting with cohdi about his show tonight. the show's called FLEXION and it's the one he and alessondra were working on in florida, where they both lived for 6 weeks during the show's creation, lounging in jennifer lopez's old digs (yes, that's right, j-lo herself). the show starts at 7:30 and this is the first time i've officially seen their work, though they would both argue this in NOT their work, it is something they were hired to do, nothing close to their shared artistic vision. the man who directed is big in the "acrobatic stilt-walking" world. it was a collaboration between the miami cultural center and wise fool, the company alessondra founded in sante fe, the company which sarah-jane and amanda are affiliated (without whose affiliation i certainly wouldn't be here).

i am very excited to see my friends in action. the day is glorious, we're about ready to head down the hill, laura is giving me a ride, she's teaching contortion classes at a dance center called "moving people" today, so she won't be seeing the show this evening. i'm going to have a nice day by myself, wandering the streets, and reading books and all that lovely stuff you can do in a town larger than penasco (coffee shops, record stores, treating yourself to a snack.) this morning i played around as alvin, my clown, in the freezing cold theatre, i didn't want to turn the heat on, it takes to long, and i only needed a quick refresher, to start my day. then i helped push a gaint truck and trailer out of our backyard, where it was stuck in the snow, wheels spinning, trying to simply drop off a load of fresh cut wood. after about 45 minutes of pushing and shoveling and placing cardboard and straw under the wheels for traction, and talking to the guy about random details of our lives for small talk (he referred to us as our "states" because between the 5 of us, we make a lot of marks on the atlas). he was a funny guy, he might come back and let us play around on his buddy's snow-mobile, if he can sell him on penasco's hamburgers (they live in taos).

anyway, enough for now. laura's ready for me to load up and get out of here. i'll let you know how the show goes.

clown clown clown

2007-01-22T23:52:00.000-08:00

today i played around in the space and it was a total blast oh my god. i shared my characters with laura and cohdi and they loved it. first there was alvin macgee trying to jump up and hang from the trapeeze. falling a lot. twitching of course, desparately trying to straighten his clothes, tuck in his shirt, fix his hair. i found in my playing a new prop, raisins! little boxed raisins, they are alvin's favorite snack! yes! he has a lot of trouble getting them open (the little boxes), they fling everywhere, he picks them up while down on his knees and he munches away. oh that crazy clown. man, i sound insane talking about him like he's a person. but it feels that way sometimes. he was singing at one point, and i have never heard him sing. that was nice. and he played with a cake pan, but the cake of course got burnt. things i like, while playing him: trying to be cool as a cucumber, hang tight, stand at ease, look comfortable, failing of course, trying to just hang out, be there, not fidget. next in my character demo for laura and cohdi i showed them the newly revamped tommy granola, no clown nose, he's shirtless, wearing bell bottoms and completely idiotic. he's very half formed, as far as characters go, i still want to find him a new voice. his pelvis moves are working though. for sure. i like the head tilted back, the utra cool persona, totally chill, but rambling nonsence. unaware of how completely stupid he sounds, how ridiculous his attempts are to be sey, hip, down to earth. i need to find a layer working underneath, okay so he's not REALLY that smooth, deep down he's (blank). i'm looking for his heart, what's really down there. maybe a tiny little child wanting desparately to be admired, validated, loved. i'm looking for ways to expose him to others, while keeping his truth veiled to himself. and then there was mitch, the scary rubber masked redneck who mumbles about tools and roughing up out of towners. he's fun to play. he always talks about his frustrating experiences at the auto part store, or the hardware store, the hired help is never up to par with mitch. he is a total placerville-inspired beer burping man's man. awesome. his limbs and neck are stiff, too much back-breaking work with his hands, he is overtly masculine and rough, you don't want to mess with him. there is certainly a tragic side to mitch, behind his gruff exterior, and his finger-pointing tangents, he cannot figure out why it's so dang hard for him to connect with people. he blames everyone but himself. at least out loud. something tells me there's an insecure mitch that haunts his dreams. last but not least was wolly, which is a working name, for my commedia masked character, he was british tonight, but i'm not entirely convinced that's what he wants to be. other times wolly takes the form of a police man, a totally inept police man, issuing tickets for random stupid offenses. speaking in lingo and jargon only he knows, this keeps his selp-important image in tact, although no one really respects him. he always walks away feeling like he's on top. let me tell you it is so fun having a space to use, virtually whenever i want. so great. and now i know how to tie up the aerial equipment so it's out of the way, and turn on and off the lights and heater, and play music over the loud speakers. perfect. the night was capped with some wine and cheese and talking with laura my new roomie about life and love and sex and art and a million other things that could go on forever if you let them. she gave me a shoulder rub, and man i needed it. earlier in the day, i shopped and bought a load of food and some kombucha to drink, which i have been severely missing. and some warm woolen booties. great day. the new vibe with me and cohdi is great. totally awesome. we're much more at ease around eachother i think. there are still moments of course where i want to pounce him or sneak a kiss, but it's not time for that (yet?). i'm always open. we'll see. i think it's good we're getting to know eachother this way. yes. it is. it's all good.

changes

2007-01-22T18:58:00.000-08:00

so last night we made a change. i was feeling very much in need of one, a change that is, things were feeling heavy, kinda stagnant, not good there for a little bit.
i think walking into a situation like this, it's very dangerous to have any kind of relationship expectations, even though i was doing my damndest (just read my other blogs) it's natural when your only ways of relating to someone are romantic, to be plopped into this crazy "living together" in the middle of nowhere thing, is insane. so we backed off. such a good idea.
we, cohdi and i, had an amazingly articulate and intimate conversation about how are nervousness with one another, our self-inflicted closed-ness and timidity were toxic, in so far as creating a creative and supportive environment and unit, meaning the unit we will have to be (the four of us) when we travel to india. the best way to create that support and that freedom is by stepping back, i think, from any kind of forced romantic obligation, which is what it was quickly becoming between us. so i moved out. i'm now living right across the street. and although this may seem like a quick and bold move, it is so the right thing.
instantly we felt better around eachother, lighter without any label or weird emotionally pre-mature dynamic binding us together.
instantly after our talk we were joking more, we were playing, laughing, being more ourselves. THAT'S how you get to know eachother. but not getting in the way of HOW you are seeing the other person. that's a lot of pressure, sleeping in one bed with a near-stranger, and trying to stay at my best creatively, so i can collaborate and socialize in a totally new, strange and uncomfortable new environment (hello, 23 degrees outside!).
anyway, i moved in with laura and alessondra, and they are super sweet. and it's like i said only 25 paces away from cohdi's place, so it's not a huge shift, althought it kinda is.
it's good. i wrote him a letter basically saying how proud i am of us, for being so open so early and risking so much.
it's good. and besides, who the hell knows what'll happen. i don't want to.
i like where it is now. it's open, it's honest, it's real. it's easy.

day two penasco.

2007-01-20T15:37:00.000-08:00

silent snow is falling, floating down, dusting everything clean and white.
i can't find my plaid pants, they must've been flung off (perhaps in a fit of passion)
not under the bed, not in any visible nook or cranny, perhaps they've decided to go away to that great empty lost place, where stubborn things go when they don't want to be found.

cohdi is at alasondra's house with laura, it will be the four of us in india, and i feel really good about this group. they're making a large vegetarian feast which i unfortunately won't be enjoying because my belly is still stuffed full from the potluck meal i had at some wonderful artists' house down the street. alasondra models nude for them now and then, and she couldn't this time, because they had a rehearsal in the theatre today. i volunteered to take her place, and now i'm $63 richer and no longer hungry (the weekly figure drawing group always includes "free-eats"). everyone there was so kind, all of them in their late fifties, early sixties, ex-hippies, pot-smokers, full of stories and somewhat parental advice. i did 6 or 8 2 minute poses and then about a couple 10 minute ones and then 4 25 minute poses. it was exhausting. all the while i found myself coping with the stillness and the discomfort by focuses on a fixed point, imaging myself in some ridiculous scenerio (walking into battle, defeated by love, left in a heap of bodies to rot). they said i was a natural and several of the artists gave me their sketches. over pie we talked about dreams and what they mean, breakthroughs in brain science, teleportation and what is was like living in fear of the draft.

yesterday was fun. we went to a cabaret show at the wise fool space in sante fe. wise fool is a circus training center and performance venue and cohdi and alasondra are often involved in collaborations and exchanges with them. the show itself was somewhat miserable. cheesy, ridiculous, full of plastic smiles, and un-funny clowns who were more irritating than anything. it's bizarre being here, and being completely immersed in this very tight circus community. the first day i was here (after waking up next to cohdi, and starting the day with matte through a metal straw) we attended a "circus yoga" class in the penasco theatre space (which, i might add, is RIGHT next door to cohdi's place). it was great making the connections between the work that these people do and the work i do, the terms vary a little, and the effect isn't always the same (theatre doesn't ALWAYS aim to razzle and dazzle) but the way in which we discussed teaching (it was mostly a course for TEACHERS of circus) it was easily applicable to teaching or faciliating a theatre workshop. we talked about games that are non-verbal that get younger kids excited about impovisation and play. the teachers were from the east coast, a company called "cicus minimus," very sweet folks.

it's after 5 now and it's getting dark. might be the cloud cover, or maybe that's when it gets dark here in penasco. i am wearing a newly acquired fleece pull-over that one of the ex-hippy artists donated to me. they were so lovely. "no jacket? sweety go pull something out of the closet, you don't wear all those coats..." the lady of the house ordered her husband. it's cozy. i'm sure i'll be wearing it a lot.

i'm so curious to see how my work can fuse or be worked into the work of these people. how character and story can add to the aerial work of the trapeze, of the hung silks and suspended ropes. while they're flying through the air, risking boldly, jumping and twirling and tangling themselves into knots, perhaps there's a place for me on the ground, with my masks, my clown, some kind of human perspective, to make it more acceptable or more open to the audience as mataphor for human lives and emotion. more than just a trick or a feat of daring, but something externalized, an impulse from within.

cohdi is a sweet man. we are having fun getting to know eachother, and all the people around him are swell. totally inspired and motivated. really fun and creative. i so thrilled about the many prospects for the future, either with me making a home here, or coming to work on something, traveling, who knows.

india is like some distant fog that's due to roll in. you can't see it but it's coming. each time that word INDIA is mentioned i get electricity that runs through me, i feel a spark of something, real and tangible, i feel it in my body. this thing. these next three months. wild.

that's all right now. i will write more as it comes. and photos should accompany my next post.

from the NEW (mexico) homefront,
evan :)

the day after today...

2007-01-18T01:10:00.000-08:00

i leave tomorrow at 5:30pm out of the sacramento international airport. i will be arriving in new mexico at 10pm (i'll be losing an hour), and it will be 20 degrees outside, maybe less, according to the weather forecast on yahoo.com.

i have my visa stamped. my india guidebooks on hand. i have yet to pack, but that won't take long. i will save it for the morning. yes, i will.

i am too tired to write much more, though beneath this sleepy skin, i assure you, i am screaming with delight, excitement, earth-shattering joy and curiousity.

i throw up my hands at the thought, who knows...

goodnight,
evan.

keir's drum circle

2007-01-07T10:14:00.000-08:00

well, last night was too amazing to not document here. i'm still in the preparation phase of my journey, collecting books to bring with me, and talking about it constantly..i actually bought a new digital camera, so small and perfect for travel, and i am definitely planning on using it A LOT and posting my trip's pics here.

about last night, my brother set the stage for some really powerful transformation in placerville.
saturday night's at 7pm he's hosting a drum circle at sacred paths yoga studio on canal street. he did such an amazing job of holding the energy, people felt so intoxicated by the vibe in the room, the lightening was all-natural fire, and placed directly in the circle, everyone's face was orange and gold in shadow as they pounded away everyone in synch with the inner-pulsing we all hold within, so magical.

it was so spontaneous. it happened so naturally. someone picks up something, throws it into the pot, and it changes the room, every one adjusts. no one held on to "their" rhythm..it's was the support and listening i found so inspiring, how every one was so eager to keep the ball passing around, not letting it drop.

afterwards, in the closing circle, hands clasped and eyes sparkling, on some kind man's advice, we chanted:

"spiraling into the center. the center of the wheel.
spiraling into the center. the center of the wheel.
i am the weaver. i am the woven one. i am the weaver i am the weave.
i am the weaver. i am the woven one. i am the weaver i am the weave.
i am the dreamer. i am the chosen one. i am the dreamer i am the dream.
i am the dreamer. i am the chosen one. i am the dreamer i am the dream."

the energy today is building. there are things happening all around me which point to positive change for the world. people i meet, communities gathering.

this is what the new world looks like.

new years 2007

2007-01-01T02:06:00.000-08:00

just starting to write about my feelings about cohdi and going away for a while.
its a new year and everything truly is all around me new.
writing this i'm at my parent's house in a room i share for the time being (3 more weeks)
with my brother, but he's not here. the room is dim and candlelit and it smells like frankincense, dragon's blood (it promotes dreams) and sage.
i thought about it and my word this year is: manifest.
i am making it happen.
i leave for cohdi's desert home on the 15th of january.
once i'm there i'm there. there i will be.
wow.
and from our month together there, where we will get to know each other all over again, we fly away to india. to perform, and educate, and be inspired and changed and challenged and who knows what else.
i'm starting this blog to document the roller-coaster i have ahead of me.
diving head first into a new relationship is scary and exciting enough. thrilling and joyful and horrifying enough. but here i am about to go to a 3rd world country with a near-complete stranger. someone i just met this last summer, and spent all of one week with.
we met at my friend sarah-jane's wedding. i performed as a clown and introduced the desserts. he spun fire at the after party half-naked and sweating, i nearly fainted.
we each dodged around the other. attempting to appear coy, aloof, less than overtly interested.
i kept asking him out for a smoke, although i don't really, smoke that is.
in our talks i was so immediately taken by such an enthusiasm and zest, and we could share it, i thought, this total immersion and sacred passion we each have for what we do.
and after he left me at the party with a drink in hand to run an errand, not sure if he'd return, i danced alone and made faces with the brides. they are such characters. i was like some kind of blushing love-freak. totally like i want to feel always, giggly and immature, illogically in love.
and he came back and we made out like porn stars all night long.
we met up a month later in the middle of nevada at burning man 2006. we partied like rockstars, shared many a burn barrel to keep warm, and talked in his tent until one of us saw the other was snoring.
so cumulatively we've spent all of one week together. maybe.
and it's been 4 months since i've seen his face. felt that feeling of being seen so clearly.
on the phone you try to make it up.
you try to create that.
you talk a lot about things. what happend that day.
what life is like on your side of the country.
i leave california for 3 months in a matter of weeks. and once i land, that's it. hold on.
there's a lot of work to do.
teaching clown workshops requires building lesson plans. i'm going to experiment in new mexico with cohdi's students some things, see what works without words. without the language barrier.
i'm bringing tons of funny props, masks, characters i've made over the last year or so, either during my time at dell'arte up in blue lake, california, or at home, freaking out my parents, or with my performing partner jamie last summer.
i'm going to be as ready as i can be for a totally life changing experience.
i've never felt so honestly invested in the notion of not knowing. diving into the abyss. throwing my arms up to the wind and saying, what the hell, take me!
here goes nothing. and everything.
we'll see where this blog goes.
i hope to document to the best of my ability, the steps i walk along the way. the bridges, the tunnels, the fuck-ups, and the fun.
here's to 2007, and getting to know someone really well because you want to. and india. and diving.

:) evan
2:27 am
1/1/2007