Clown Car Chronicles: The Same Suitcase in Another Hall, Part 1

Press Photo from Amir's Solo Show, Male Matriarch, courtesy of David Silva

3 weeks later.

I find myself with shorter hair and more kissing under my belt (not literally… or maybe).

Where has this summer gone?

I lie in bed sometimes unable to fall asleep because up until recently, I haven’t thought too far ahead into fall/winter/2012.  For me, everything has been leading up to this summer: the trips, the 2 shows I’m working on, the launch of the webseries I’m in, the goodbyes…

Now that I’m about to begin the last leg of the clown tour, I wonder what the final steps of my journey this summer will be.  How will I be tested?  What is the holy grail I must find?  Who is the man behind the iron mask?????  What is Gepetto’s obsession with having a wooden child???????

Anyways, my dear readers, I must apologize profusely for never writing about Chicago and the end of Minneapolis.  Here we go:

Bubbles and Crocodile Dentist

Chicago:

A friend that I had made in Birthright several years ago invited us into her lovely home in Highland Park.  I knew we were staying at the right place when we woke up our first morning to alcoholic chocolate beverages and toys.

Chicago for me was mostly about seeing old friends: my friend from Birthright, a friend from high school, and a friend from college (there were also friends from LA who had moved back to Chicago, but since I’d seen them pretty recently, the need to play catch-up wasn’t as pressing).

We performed in a space that reminded me more of a funeral parlor/lounge/someone else’s grandmother’s living room, than an actual theater, but we made it work by playing with the reality of the dimensions we had to work with, and as a result, the audiences (maybe 15 each night…at most) loved us.

We also had the opportunity to perform with several other clown companies at the Chi-Town Clown Revue in the Neo-Futurists Theater.

My favorite performances in Chicago were not on stage, however.  In spending time with my old high-school friend Kate, we had several experiences of unique events happening right behind me.  As I wanted these things to be documented, I had Kate pretend that she was taking pictures of me, when in reality, it was the ridiculousness happening behind me that she was documenting.

Event #1:  While Kate and I were enjoying frozen yogurt on a beautiful sunny day in the park, there was an attempt to photograph a dog for a photo shoot.  We couldn’t tell if the dog was a professional model, or if it was a random portrait shoot, but in any case, it was funny to see the mere humans attempting to get puppy to hold still.

Photographer Reloads while Dog Holds Still

Amir Poses in front of Dog Photography

Event #2:  Post-Clown performance, several friends [including our hostess, a talented playwright friend of mine from Sarah Lawrence (check out her webseries: www.completelynormalactivity.com), and Kate] and myself went out for pizza.

Hot Mess Girl and Date

Besides encountering some rude people while waiting for a table, we also got to witness a hot mess of a girl making a fool of herself.  Was she drunk?  Stoned?  An attention whore?  Who knows… This is Kate’s photography as I pose in front of Hot Mess Girl and Date.

I miss the women I spent time with in Chicago already and hope I see them again soon in the very near future.

Minneapolis:

When last I wrote, I was excited about going out dancing with the hot straight boys from Nebraska.   Well, dancing certainly happened, and it was an awesome time.  We turned a sports bar full of dude bros into a dance club, and me and several of the touring dancers demonstrated our abilities on the pole that happened to be there in the middle of this bar.  Sure, the dude bros were uncomfortable on the outside, but I’m sure they were a little bit aroused watching my flexibility on that pole.  When I go out dancing, I sometimes channel Madonna or Buffy/Faith in their wild episode (before Faith accidentally kills a human and goes rogue).

In leaving the club after it closed, it was determined that the after-party would take place at the creek where the hot straight Nebraskans were staying and that skinny-dipping would be involved.  Since director Jeremy, Angry Clown Raymond, and pianist Mario were in no condition to drive, and I was reminding myself to go forward with situations I’d probably never find myself in again, I decided to go against my exhaustion and play babysitter and designated driver.

On the way to the car, my fellow cohorts decided to toy with one of the other fringe cars (who were also going to the creek), and as I was in full mom mode, I stayed on the sidewalk impatiently observing and wanting the night to progress so it could end and I could go to bed.  As we finally started walking to our car, I heard some guys on the street corner make a comment with the word “fag” in reference to either myself or my fellow clowns.  I already had my back to them when I heard and felt that word.  I stopped in my tracks, turned around, and began to ask the hate-mongers what they had said.  At this point, Raymond was rounding the corner and saw the rage that was building in me as I was beginning to approach these men.   I kept asking (or yelling) what exactly had they said, and how dare they, etc.  Raymond grabbed me, turned me around, pulled me towards the car, and attempted to cover my mouth with his hand as I started screaming, boiling with anger.   I don’t know what would’ve happened had Raymond not forced me away from the situation, but I was definitely ready to physically attack these pieces of shit.   I don’t have a lot of fighting experience (physical fighting that is), but I do know that I am tired and pissed off (to say the least) at people attacking gays, and other people standing idly by as this happens.  At this point, I am ready to promote violence against people who use the word “fag” or who use “gay” as a derogatory term.  Too many suicides have happened in the last year and I am beyond angry that not enough is being done to stop the bullying.  It is time to bully the bullies and to beat the shit out of them.  “I am mad as hell and I’m not going to take it!”

Ok.  I’ve ranted.  Obviously I still get angry when I think of that night because it is unfortunately not an isolated event.

The pile of clothes before the path to nudity

Anyways, after a great deal of effort to calm me down, I (fighting back tears) drove the boys to the farm/creek.  There were lots of other casts there for this post-dancing after party.  We all parked our cars and walked over a mile in the dark to get to this creek.  Once there, the majority of people got down to their skivvies and went into the water.   I stayed on the dock fully-clothed for a few reasons:

1. I’ve seen horror movies.  Naked bitches are always the first to get it.

2. I was already being eaten alive by mosquitoes.  I didn’t want to be shared by whatever else was out there.  There’s only so much calomine lotion can help.

3. It was a heterosexual flirt party.  There was nobody there for me to fondle underwater, and I didn’t feel like being the one untouched body in the water.

4. Look at this picture. Is that scary or is that scary?

Then the cops showed up.

Apparently we weren’t supposed to be in this park after a certain hour, and we were all trespassing, etc.  Luckily the whole ‘we’re not from here, we didn’t know, we’re artists’ excuse worked (as did the half-naked girls getting out of the water and maybe exposing their tatas), and the cops told us to gather our belongings and get out of there.  We managed to get out of the situation without being ticketed and we all dispersed.  I drove my cohorts home (we made it back around 4:30-5am), and I immediately crawled into bed, praying for sleep.

Alright.  This blog is already getting to be too long, so I’m gonna take a break.  In my next blog, expect to find:

1. Stories of the clowns’ last couple of days in Minneapolis, including our adventures at the amusement park

2. Reflections on NYC

3. Musings…and maybe some naked pictures of Mario