by choice…

The night grows dark, it’s almost time. Just a few minutes until I completely step out of my comfort zone, get on The Wharf, and create a show out of nothing and fire.

 

This is my life, I am blessed, and it is exquisite. Exquisite except for a much more beautiful entry that was eaten up by a lousy stolen interweb connection. I go on.

 

I go on, though the words have already been written and are gone. I make new ones. Always making new. This is my world, and I am in love with it.

 

Just a few minutes. I gather the tools I need – the torches, the fuel, the damp cloth, the lighter, my guts and don’t give a dam. I just want to make them happy, entertain enough so that they want to give me money. Just a few minutes and I reach past everything I have been, creating a show, gathering strangers, passerby, the wandering tourists. This is the Street. Anything can happen here, and I’ll make it happen. Just a few minutes and I step into another world. I’m terrified. Thrilled. This is my life, I change as I need to. I’m terrified.

 

The show must go on – this life is my choice, and I need to make it work.

 

Just a few minutes…

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Random bumping into of Victoria today – Victoria of the BB Gun, and just an all-around rocking woman. She brought up doing a show together – her on her gun, me pulling arrows behind my bow.

 

Hells. Yeah.

 

Just one problem – I need more arrows. Shot them all to their demise at the March Bohemian Carnival – Valentines Day, shooting hearts from across the club. Call me Cupid. Don’t.

 

Hells yeah. Shootin’ shit. Needs me some arrows, needs me some cash to get them. $60 for a dozen – and damn, once I get them, I’ll find a way to make them stay on fire at 240 feet per second – that will be the tough part. Ain’t no longbow King Arthur shit, this bow shoots like hell, and we know each other. She’s trained me.

Hoping to make enough hat tonight to get some arrows, begin to pay some dreadfully overdue debts, buy some food, put some fuel in the tank of Falkor – and buy a Helicopter. One that can fit in your common San Francisco parking space, and… one that floats. And has a waterslide. And is almost silent, but has a kickass sound system.

 

Yeah, that is what I want to earn tonight. I’m missing Devotchka. Something good must come of it…

 

And hell, I need to write this shit in Word first – I lost such a beautiful entry because of a lousy connection…

 

Just pretend that this was as beautiful as that, okay?

 

 

 

 

This is my life, and I live it by choice. It comes with no small amount of pain, but it helps me remember passion, love, lust, and beauty. I dive into darkness and emerge dripping with light. This is my life, always growing – and The Great Oooh Ahhh of the Universe kicks my ass if I don’t, with gentle (and sometimes not so gentle) nudges. This is my life, and for some reason I still am here. This is my life, and it deserves everything I can give it. Everything I can grow to be, and share.

 

This is my life. It is pain, uncertainty, beauty. This is my life and everything I wanted to be as a child. I AM, I am me, finally. This is now, and the only thing that matters.

 

Just a few minutes – it is cold, windy, and dark. I sit in my van and the light I have strapped around my forehead to see the keys is giving me a headache. Fuck, I need to jump back into the unknown – the unknown is where I thrive. I am not a common person.

 

A few more sips of wine, a few more words. Hopefully tonight I will make enough to buy arrows, create a show, make more people happy and make more money. I have the love, the passion – the ferocity. I am here for me, and in becoming me I am able to give to you.

 

I am here, ultimately, for you

 

 

~ ~ ~

 

Hell. Time to gather, and put on a show. No more standing around, this time I need to draw them in, draw me out. This time, at last, I can speak with them, play with them.

 

This is what I have been waiting for, and I become more of me.

 

I live this life by choice.

 

“If you aren’t on the edge, you’re taking up too much space.”

 

Fuck. Guess I need to go.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

            Ohdeargods.

 

No one out, I drew a crowd of five at most – and I had NO show to give them. I need to work on this. Hells. I made $2.

 

With the fuel needle far below the redline, with a pocketful of $2 and change, tonight I make the Wharf my home. Tomorrow I statue again – at least with that I know I will make a bit of scratch.

 

Not giving up, just need to refine and design. Perhaps bring it into my statue, work it that way. Play.

 

Lots of work to do.

 

Lots of effort to live the life I have chosen.

 

Two dollars. Can’t survive with that.

Two dollars. I need to get better, and quick.

 

 

 

Right now a whole bunch of ‘fuckthis’ is swirling around in my noggin’, but I can’t give up, I won’t. Need to do this, need to eat, need to feed Falcor and be able to live. Empty tank, empty heart. Fuck it.

 

Tomorrow just might be better.

 

Maybe tomorrow I will be able to afford arrows, create a good show.

 

Buy fuel for Falcor.

 

Maybe.

 

 

It is by choice I live this life. By choice and necessity I chase my dreams, and grow into them.

 

By Choice.

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