Chinny chin-chin

I got out to the Wharf early tonight, after deciding to spend the majority of the day doing other work. The Wharf these days is nothing but a bare sustenance, the place where I go to earn money to get my phone turned back on, maybe get a bit of gas money, just barely survive. I did two fire breathing shows tonight to the tune of $26 and change.
Change. There were actually pennies in my box. Yeah, the show has gotten better, and I really do enjoy doing it, working on it, and it is a great place to practice and learn for the real shows – but hell, It’s very difficult to justify fire-breathing without a safety for any fucking amount of money. I know what can go wrong, and especially at the Wharf with it’s winds. Still, it is a learning experience, one that I hope I will survive without any catastrophic accidents. I’ve learned to read the wind, but only as much as it will let me. I know that it can change at any time, and will. I know what I am doing isn’t the smartest of things – as a matter of fact, pretty stupid in my books – but considering the pathetic money I made tonight without the 1/2 hour (at least) it takes to get done up in statue garb, the hours of standing and destroying my hips, then taking the makeup off – well, the fire show is much more lucrative – so to speak.

Gone are the days of $100 dollar hats for three hours of statuing – and that is a low number. Now, as a statue, I average about $15 an hour – less movement, more strain on my body as a result – and the makeup, for  hours.

I try – gods, how I try – but it is difficult to enter the arena of Fishermans Wharf with a positive attitude anymore. Without question, that is certainly a part of it. The faith is there – but not the belief that it might be a day like the days in the past.

The past is the past. Let the dead bury the dead. I don’t remember who used to say that all the time – a teacher, fouth of fifth grade, or mabe someone else entirely – but the Wharf is dead. It is only the scratch I need to survive, and barely that…

But I don’t sit still, and yeah – though I have a sincere belief that things will get better, I don’t depend on the things that have shown themselves to remain in the “I hope, someday” category anymore. I’ve lived far too long to not know better. Quoting Andy Warhol; “They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.”

And times are changing, I am changing my life. I can’t depend on the gigs I get, I can’t depend on street performance. Way to much fluctuation. Given, I have a wonderful gig tomorrow that will help me make a few financial thigs right, these are few and far between – so it’s time to act. Hardcore, with passion. I love my life and it’s lessons but I am dreadfully weary of being broke. I love the life I have chosen but sometimes the uncertainty really, really fucks with me. I am one strong motherfucker, I’ve needed to be – but there is a fragility, as well. I’m only human, and gods, sometimes, when no one is looking, the tears fall for the most rediculous of reasons – or the most profound thoughts of what I want to be for me, for you…

The Magazine is becoming. My magazine. So much work, so few people, but very good ones. “Big Top Magazine – Broadcasting the Worlwide Indie-Circus and Art Revolution”. Nothing like this exists. It needs to. It will begin online, and when we have the capitol and support, go into print, with as much recycled paper and soy-ink as possible to make a publication that the world picks up and realizes that shit needs to change. I’m fighint hard for this in a arena that I know nothing about, but need to have happen. We’ve been working on designing the site, but that is one of the things I know nothing about – so I introduced Boe to Antonio – people who know their shit – and stepped back in full trust. It was difficult, but what I need to do. I can’t control everything – nor do I have a desire to. This is a huge undertaking, and it will happen – and I need help. I need content, submissions, things to make it valid and exciting. I intend to do nothing less than change the world with this magazine. Perhaps I can get an interview with Al Gore??? Need to make it something live online first, maybe. 

This is not small, not simply local. That is far too easy, and far to redundant. Why the fuck do people protest shit in San Francisco? Fucking idiots, wasting energy, preaching to the faithful. Take it to  a red state, and maybe there you might make a difference. Take it to the White House – but I digress…
As artists – whatever our medium is – we have an immense power to make things better – we just need to get it out there, make it accesible, make it delicious. The world is changing and we have the power to make it better – but people – EVERYONE – needs to know about it. That is my intention, that is what I will manifest in theis magazine, and…

They will.

I recieved an email today from a dear friend in L.A. who has directed me to a friend of hers, who will preview my book and recommend the correct publisher.

Life moves on.

Life fucking rocks. I need to sleep.

G’night. Make good dreams.

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4 responses to “Chinny chin-chin

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