Sign in Subscribe

Output 40—Praise Clownvis.

Output 40—Praise Clownvis.
With some Campers and the Man of the Hour.

Friday night I drove to Southgate House in Newport across the Ohio River from Cincinnati to see a performance by artist/magician/singer/podcaster/comedian Clownvis Presley, and it was a milestone for me for several reasons:

  1. I emboldened myself to round up a posse of Camp John Waters Ohioans and was successful (see gorgeous ladies above);
  2. I bought one ticket—for myself. I did not use my recent ex as a beard. Honestly he would have loved to go but it was a thing for ME. And I guess I need to impose actual boundaries because I’m being wishy washy. Soft breakups are great FOR ME. But I don’t think it’s great for him. I think it’s confusing. I hate hurting feelings and I hate artificial boundaries—if you like someone enough to spend most of your time with them, I feel like taking sex and romance and “a future as a couple” out of the equation changes things but shouldn’t be a barrier to continuing to have fun together. But for most people, that’s exactly what it means. I’m preventing him from “moving on.” UGH. He’s so much fun! But that’s no reason to hold him captive… ANYWAY...
  3. I tried real hard to talk myself out of going, especially when I saw the weather report. I went anyway. This is kind of huge. I miss, and regret missing, things I buy a ticket to A LOT. Because letting myself down is a “who cares” proposition, except it’s NOT, and I need to stop doing it. I’ve missed a lot of “last concerts ever” because I follow my sad feelings in the moment instead of following through on my fun ideas.
  4. I took my time, drove up the state highway instead of the Interstate, and enjoyed the scenery, and I did it all without GPS. I’m printing a list of directions again! How retro!
  5. I took the time to apply clown makeup. I was the only one in the audience who did so. I was humiliated for about 5 seconds and then I OWNED IT, you bastards.
  6. I remembered every single thing I intended to bring along with me.
  7. I looked pretty awesome even though I smeared my makeup.
  8. My concern that I was being “too much” was assuaged by the presence of my Campers, who are always “too much” and proud of it.
  9. I was inducted into the Camp John Waters girl gang, the Pussy Willows (the induction involved accepting a Facebook group invitation. LOL).
  10. I met Clownvis and was confident and silly but not sycophantic.
  11. I left at a reasonable hour.
  12. I braved a terrifying drive back in dense fog.
  13. When Aften told me they went out for chili with Clownvis afterwards, I was only jealous for about 5 seconds.

Clownvis represents the kind of ART I believe in: performance, satire, silly, dumb, in your face, positive, punk.

I’m thinking about developing an alter ego, as well. I have so many examples of the kid of thing I love and probably could pull off if I took the time to really plan.

The last few weeks I’ve been up and down a bit as my money chickens are starting to roost, I am navigating this messy ass breakup thing and not very well, and I keep getting sick. But one thing has happened that I have been waiting for nearly my whole life—I want to work on art, I want it to be about ME and my passions, and I think of my artmaking space as a sanctuary, not some kind of terrible realm of unmet potential and failed expectations. It feels like my “secret room” now, and I have always made space for that, but never actually occupied it.

I feel a way forward now and it will probably be silly and awkward and involve a lot of missteps and it’s weird that I don’t care if there is an audience to see it. I just want to do things that amuse me.

I still need to deal more with screen time. Way to much sucking in streaming. But I have to remember also that I am still recovering and I have to let myself be messy and not-linear.

I used to hate clowns. Now I am one!