Wild is the …

Wind.

I tried, though. I was determined – but the wind won this round.

Got the makeup and garb on, grabbed all my schtuff, and headed down to Jackson Square as I usually do. Even made $2 on the way there from some photo takin’ people.

Then, I find a good spot, un-bungee the milk crates, and start setting up.

The milk crate that I put my much lighter box on, which holds the even lighter money that people give me – the friggin’ MILK CRATE starts to blow down the sidewalk.

Hrm.

I asses the situation.

1. Need money. Big time. Gots to find me an apartment.
2. Even if people were more generous than they ever were on this very day, putting gobs and gobs of cash into my box, it probably wouldn’t matter, as the gobs and gobs of cash, along with the box, the milk crate, and my hat would be blowing down Decatur street.

I laugh a bit, pack right back up again, and head home.

Well, at least I made that $2. The day wasn’t a total loss.

Now, to wipe off the makeup, meet Andrew at Cafe du Monde for some Bignets and an au lait, then come back here and practice with staff.
Maybe even get some stretching in. And do some wardrobe repairs.

I love having my computer clock on 24 hour time.

As Midnight rolls around, the clock says 00:00 – a brand new day, the previous one wiped clean, where anything can happen.

It’s up to us to decide where it will go, what it will bring…

“They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.”
~ Andy Warhol ~

My Statue has a groupie

This is actually quite sweet – emailed to me a couple days ago…

The White Duke of Decatur

Chin up, stand up straight and proud,
Sir Duke, so white and elegant
you’ve a lot to do to-day you know

the carousel music plays
from the bay
the calliope and pipes
it’s a sweatslick sunny day
you stand there as passerby
glance and pace and mumble

you simply stand there
not wavering nor tumbling
still tall
ever white and pale
you barely look askance

as the passerby mumble and shuffle
pace and do their nervous everyday dance

but you are something quite different
you fire-breather, you ecstatic fluke

and this, well this I must say to you
lovely tall White Duke…

to see you standing still
and then in motion
it’s not quite a fright
but to see you step down and smile
arms tattooed and finally mobile
those are the things
that set the skies alight
into a purple sun starshot
supernova

Dear Duke
standing so tall and pale
you are one of the beautiful and wondrous oddities
all to rare in these course days

Stand still and stand tall
for you make me smile
and everyone knows
that smiles as well as dreams
fragile as stained glass
thin as smoke
are all to rare these days

“Kick up your heels and paint your face
Wave goodbye to yesteryear
We can swing in outer space
Or from the chandeliers…”

To kSea, The White Duke of Decatur

25 April, 2006
8.55pm

Aonie D.
(Ash)

To lose myself in finding you

lets me believe, again
in the power of dreams.
To reach, to know –

and when there is nothing else
to believe in

you remind me
to trust in myself.
to remember my dreams.
to know that anything
is possible,

and you teach me again
how to unfold my wings
and prepare for flight.

You teach me again
that nothing is unreachable
as long as I believe and
as I long for your arms around me
I will do what I can here
to bring them to me
and feel as if I deserve them.

To deserve you.

I know I am better than what I think of myself.
I know I am better than who I ever was,
and I know that I have earned you, and you
are, perhaps, what I have worked so hard for
but
perhaps, all the work that has been done so far
was for me
so I could be me, so I could be
all that I can be
for you

for now.

I look around the room, and see an all too familiar setting. A mess of boxes and bags, stuffed again with the little I have remaining, the things that I still hold onto – hoping someday for a home, a place to put them where they might stay. It’s been far too long.

I frequently wonder if somehow I am destined to always keep moving, never truly having a home that I can entirely feel comfortable in, always encountering some problem or another that prohibits me from resting, doesn;t let me firmly plant my feet anywhere. A hundred places I can stay for a while, but nothing panning out, ever. Nothing that I know is mine, my sanctuary, that I can keep for more than a few months. Forever wantering, forever intruding…

I don”t know, it’s just a thought.

***

A familiar and frustrating sense of loneliness and defeat today. Forgetting who I am, what I have done, what i am capable of. For the longest time I’ve tried to keep as positive of an attitude as I can, knowing that’s all I had – the most important thing I could possibly hold onto in order to make all of the possibilities in my life the days happen – but then someone comes along, and with a few simple words completely takes the wind out of my sails, leaving me adrift, silent – empty of the enthusiasm and excitement. This person has known me for a while. Do they see things that I can’t? am I just another foolish dreamer, forever knowing the possibilities but never able to reach them? Is that how they see me?

Is that how I should look at myself?

Fuck it. Try to ignore it. Try not to let it get me down. Try to find the entusiasm again, the light. Hop on the bike, and go turn in the application for the apartment, now filled with doubt instead of confidence, thinking of everything that can go wrong, trying not to accept that it will.

trying. Put on the game face. Pretend again. You’re good at it, remember? Nothings wrong. Never let them see it. Same old happy fucking Casey as far as their concerned.

Upon arriving home, I get a call from Kameron – she’s just got hired at the last second for a gig in jackson Square, and the agent I’ve been wanting to talk to will be there. Last thing I want to do is leave the place, but I need this. Change, grab the stilts and the fire equipment, put on the game face and go. I need to meet him.

Got there, had some fun – stilting in Jackson Square, breathing fire a bit, and having the room to practice with my staff. It felt good to do a bit with Kameron & Andrew, but still, underneath is the worry, the stress of not being able to find a home, of not being able to make this work.

I get home, and just sit in the darkness for about an hour, exhausted, wanting to feel anything but that so I feel nothing again.

Nothing is always safe.
Nothing is better than that.
Nothing is what matters, and right now,

Nothing matters.

I found the perfect apartment.

A double parlor entrance with beautiful doors, hardwood floors, TONS of closet space, brand new appliances with washer & drier, big (shared) yard, quiet neighborhood, close to the French Quarter, over 1100 sq. ft., perfect area for a sewing machine, dining room, beautiful kitchen, and, for what it is and what I’ve seen otherwise, incredibly inexpensive, comparitively.

http://neworleans.craigslist.org/apa/154147759.html

I’m filling out the application now, dropping it off tomorrow morning.

Please send me some good perfect apartment getting energy! Throw some magick my way, anyone who feels inclined.

I would really appreciate it.

Thanks!

changes

I open the doors to my balcony for one of the few last times, load te CD they sent me, and turn up the volume.

From the speakers comes a wonderfully familiar voice of someone from a previous life – a life what was so incredibly instrumemtal in creating the one I have manifested for myself now – one that certainly would not exist without them. I was tought my strengths, I was reminded of the most primal of loves.

As the music plays, I swim in the past. I read through the liner notes, recognizing so many names, reliving so many memories – and then, certainly not expecting it in any way, I read my own name, under the title of “A Standing Ovation for those without whom we’d be nothing.” The tears could not be held back. The time we spent together – lifetimes – was more than justified by including my name in the DVD – something that was almost necessary in my apppearance – but this – this… This made me actually know – as many times as they told me, as many times as I felt I could do better – that I did something good.

That I was actually appreciated.

A message to Amanda, Brian, and the Brigade – I still consider you my children, my loves, my mentors. All of you are each of those in some respect. You have taught me more than you may ever know, and without question, my life would not have the beauty that it now has become without what I learned from – and with – you.

And because of you – all of you – this is my life now and in the previous months…

From Colorado, where my venture to Boston was stopped short, I emailed a friend – this was just a few days after Katrina – I asked her if there was anything I could do to help, as her home was New Orleans – but she said “No, we can barely help ourselves – and directed me to Austin, fuckingTexas…

Bur I’m getting far too much detailed. I spent four months in The Enchanted Forest, and now I am here, in New Orleans. I leave the details aside. I am here because we needed each other.

And now, in brief – I make my living as a street performer, always learning more – needing more. More happens. More is all I could ever want to be for myself an you. I owe it to us. And thus:

A few new friends and myself are creating a circus – and a circus school. This was my dream when I arrived here, and I could not have been more blessed – One of the people I have the pleasure of creating this with is one of the main figures in creating the first one in New Orleans – and of all the strangest things, *she* approached *me*. We talked, we know what we want.

It WILL happen, because of you – Amanda, Brian, and most importantly, The Brigade. Realize, at leat a bit, the impact you have. We imagine, we dream, we create.

REPEAT.

repeat forever.

Thank you. I love you.