dancing past the waves

the days have been good. The van (as yet unnamed, but I really dig the suggestion by

 – though I need to think of a proper anagram) keeps becoming more and more appreciated.
The later part of today was spent in S.F., mainly to pick up a bag that I had to leave at one of the houses I stayed at as I couldn’t carry everything. I was hoping the white shirt I use to statue might be in it, as it has gone a-missing – which was somewhat humorous this weekend down at the wharf, at least for me. I didn’t know it was missing until after I had picked up my street gear from Anastasia, and was getting ready in the van. (OH, the VAN – MY VAN!!!) Not finding the shirt anywhere, and having no idea wher it could have gone – which house I stayed in, falling off my stuff as I pulled my cart from one place to the next – no idea…

Most importantly, No Shirt for the costume.

I thought of my options, the situation. I had found a parking place not too far from where I set up these days, it was Saturday, I desperately need the money to make good on loans.

No shirt.

Hmm.

I began thinking of when I first started to statue – with not much more than the shirt and my billowy skirt, and makeup. Pieces and parts safety pinned, sleeves to the shirt, black boots – I was a mess compared to these days, but still – people stopped, people smiled. I still remember the first time in San Francisco, I tried the Cable Car stop on Powell St. & Market with Naia. A commonly cold, windy night – and it was then, with the wind, that I realized that I would need to get wome white pants, as well. Some people certainly got more than they bargained for as I was doing the best accidental Marilyn impression I tried not to do…

I chuckled to myself, put on the two thermal underwear shirts that I wear under the costume shirt, kept smiling, kept laughing, and called it good enough.

It was actually a fun lesson – here I am, so proud of the way the pieces of my statue costume have come together over the years, of the ways I have refined my performance and continue to daily, of the way I had grown so comfortable to hitting the streets, knowing through the smiles I receive simply walking to work that I make people happy, that I look good, that I am just a bit of magick and wonder and beauty and a good feeling in their lives, if only for a second… and yeah, while the thermal underwear probably didn’t necessarily pull the costume together, I still shared smiles, I still made the young girls blush as they put some money in my box, waited with anticipation not knowing what I would do – then catching and holding their eyes,and blowing a kiss.
Simple, but for that moment they are the only thing that matters, and I think that most of them know it. For that brief moment, there is nothing but them and me. All the energy I have, all of my heart, everything I have is focused on them. I don’t think about my situation, I don’t think about my debt, I don’t think about anything. I draw them in, they are the only thing in my world, and we share that beautiful moment.

Highlights of this past weekend:
A child, a little girl, perhaps around 18 months, perhaps 24, in her fathers arms, looking over his shoulder. She’s looking at me, one of the most adorable babyfat faces in her confused frown as she tries to figure out what is going on. She keeps staring, pouty lips and overblown baby cheeks – but then I look at her, and though they haven’t tipped me, as her fathers head is turned I catch her inquisitive eyes and blow a kiss, smile my most sincere and warm smile, and give a little wink. She blinks, her brow furrows – and then still seeing me smiling at her, her face lights up. Her babyfatcheeks expand as her smile pushes them out of the way to wrap around my heart; her eyes light up and catch the sun, and I was blessed with one of the most beautiful and innocent smiles I have ever seen. The wonder of a childs heart. That is where we connected.

A boy of around seven or eight seeing my box, screaming “MONEY!!!” and almost diving for it. Good thing his mom had good reflexes. He was cute as hell.

The guy – his name is Russ, who caught me on break while driving by and said that he has a statue that looks exactly like my character. He runs a fishing/tour boat at the wharf. Nice guy. He said he’ll bring the statue down.

Everyone. Everyone who stopped and smiled.

The weekend was busy with people, but they weren’t exactly generous. Lots of appreciation, little money. I talked to other people who depend on tourist business, and they said the same. This needs to change. It frightens me. This is my meat, my constant. Over the weekend I made a total of $100 – which is far, far below average. Less than half – but things will work out. They always do. This weekend hit me hard though, as I have loan commitments to come through with and I don’t want to screw that up. I won’t. I’ll make it happen – though it may be a day or two later than I thought.

And the Great Universal Ooh Aah covers my ass, I think. A gig scheduled for Friday which would pay incredibly well is cancelled due to permit stuff – not some small thing, mind you – the Spring Schwing put on by Exotic Erotic Ball. A big chunk of scratch that I was depending on, poof !- but then, and email today from Mike of Vau de Vire – a paid gig on Saturday, details to follow. Working Spectra Ball on Friday, but no money, only comp tickets – which I will do my best to sell (interested?)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wow. Sidetracked like… like… like a sidetracked guy.

The Van becomes. It’s the pieces that I put into it that makes it mine, makes it my heart, my home. My home has always been filled with pieces of those that I love – small things, but things that mean everything to me. Like I have said before, i’m a sentimental fuck – and I am a part of everyone in my life. They are a part of me.

Today, on the shift arm of my van which was missing a knob, I makd a few small modifications and it now has the beautiful cut glass doorknob that

 gave me many moons ago, with my intention of making it into the head of a cane. I touch her when I go from park to drive. And baby, I drive.

On the dash now is a beautiful stylized skull that

 sent me while I was in New Orleans, keeping the way clear.

Memories. Loves. Remember everything. I keep everything, I try. Everyone in my life. Remember everything. I can’t. I want a piece of you to call me back. I want to remember my struggles, I want to remember my love I want to remember how much i can love. It grows, fades, waxes, wanes. Sometimes I just wamt to go, but not now. Not now. I can’t wait to give everything back in some way. NO – not back – forward. Forward, forever.

We dance. We enter calm water, the Sea – and it’s easy so we step forward – then the waves, the challenges, try to push us back. Try to make the calm of the ocean unreachable. Hell, it would be so easy to just go back to the mundane shore, wouldn’t it? Go through the waves, find the open Sea. Find the peace in its’ gentle rocking, and fuggin’ ROCK with
it! Go further, reach, dream, believe, keep swimming, keeep dancing. Same thing. Keep going forward, at all costs.

Get past the waves. I learned this lesson at an early age, growing up as a surfer. Get past the break. Just… get past the break. Breathe, and don’t just sit there – study the way things are happening that day and work with the way it is breaking. Every day is different, every day is magickal. PAY ATTENTION TO NOW.  Nothing else matters when everything depends on the perfect ride, the perfect wave, and gods, I have had them – I have. Not only surfing, but adoring life in general.

Get past the break, get to calm seas – then jump on anything that propells you forward and do it, return, with more passion than you have ever felt.

THIS is magick. This is the magick that I know. I am uncomfortable. I like it this way – I am one of the few that thrive in the unknowing.
I am one of the few that follow my bliss, at all costs.

Join me.

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5 responses to “dancing past the waves

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