Entry #43

It is not ideal to type with a severely bandaged pontier- ughh, pointre- POINTER finger. Especially when they’ve decided to have us all use typewriters this semester. Ya know, for the experience. To build character. I think it’s a waste of time and paper and the “experience” is lost on most of these bozos. It’s our last year at Clown Academy after all, what’re they expecting? No one here is ever going to measure up to Boop De Boise, no matter how much patience and discipline it takes to type-write a ten page paper on the history of court jesters in 18th century France.  

My finger is throbbing despite the four Advil I took two hours ago. I screwed up my rope to silk trick in front of the kids at the daycare next door. They let us come by to get some field experience once a month. The rope got caught on my pointer finger before I could pull the silk over it, and before I knew it this devil- I mean- evil- I mean super sweet (I blame the typewriter) child volunteered to come up and yank it off. Rope burn all the way down. Strong little buggers they’re growing over there. So for the next couple weeks, I’m out a pretty useful typing digit. Though it doesn’t much matter to me anymore. I’m going to drop out. 

I’ve met someone. It’s cliche, I know, but true. Abby is the most amazing mime I’ve ever seen. The way she can filet a Bluefin Tuna in a fish market she creates right on the sidewalk. And when she pilots an airplane, I can really hear the jet engines firing up! It sends chills down my spine and has moved me beyond any red-nosed aspirations I had. So I’ve decided to apply to The Mime Conservatory of Poughkeepsie. It’s only a few miles away and there’s so much there! I think. It doesn’t matter. Abby is there, and I’ve planned to mime the most elaborate pot roast dinner that is sure to win her heart. Wish me luck!

Entry #44

Well, I got into the Mime Conservatory of Poughkeepsie. And Abby has left to become a real pilot. My heart has shattered into a thousand pieces, which I’m learning I need to really feel the edges of as I “pick them up” in my first “Feel Into Your World 101” class. I cry real tears and the professor wags a “no, no” finger at me and proceeds to silently tell me how I need to mime them. “Screw you,” I say. The professor and all the students mime different versions of shocked and upset. I rip off my beret and rush out the door slamming it shut, to which I imagine they also had some lively assorted reactions to. 

I let the tears flow as I sink down against the wall outside. WHAT AM I DOING HERE?! I thought Abby had truly inspired my to explore this craft beyond my interest in her, but of course I was wrong. I feel so lost. Help.

Entry #45

Just when I thought all hope was lost, who do I run into at the local market but- Boop! The Boop De Boise, buying canned beans! It was a sign. I went up to talk to her. She was about to buy Natural Valley baked beans, but I advised her that the Fresh Market ones were better and that they’re owned by a pair of former clowns. Her eyes lit up. “Really?” She said. “Yes!” I said, too loud. Reeling it in, “Irma and Freddy. They’re awesome.”

 “Well, that’s good to know thanks.” 

“You’re welcome!” I yelled over enthusiastically as she turned to continue pushing her cart down the aisle.

“Thanks.” Boop De Boise. Thanked. Me. I can’t believe it. The pieces of my heart have started to meld together again and I know what I have to do. 

Entry #46

They took me back at the Clown Academy. I wrote a three page apology (on the damn typewriter) and detailed my experience with Miss Boop and how it changed me, how I learned my lesson, blah blah blah. So now here I am, back with the bozos, finishing the ninth page of my history of court jesters with a finally healed pointer finger. Clowning has its shortcomings, but at the end of the day it feels like where I belong. No more wild romantic mime chases for me. Thank goodness. 

Entry #47

Nothing much to report today. Got an A on my court jesters paper, mastered the rope to silk trick at a safe distance from that super sweet child. Now I just have my final exams and then I’ll be a certified clown!

Entry #48

Oh how the heavens have opened up and sent down this angel, I don’t know! Her name is Helen and she is the most incredible Lion tamer I’ve ever seen in my whole life. I guess I’ve only seen one, but still! The skill, the vigor, the elegance! Her show was in town for one night and I followed them to the bar after. We had the most engaging conversation. What a smart, thoughtful, deep, beauteous, tamer of Lions, oh Helen! They leave tomorrow and I don’t know what to do. She said I could go with them and clean her Lion’s poop. Is this a bad idea? I know, I know, what about what happened with Abby. But this is different! We’ve talked! She’s asked me specifically to clean the poop! Oh what a crazy world. What should I do?? 

Entry #49

Well, Lion poop is large. And smelly. Helen’s girlfriend is wonderful. I guess we never talked about that. But being on the road really suits me. Also Helen saw some of my tricks and said maybe they could incorporate them into the show. I didn’t necessarily think Boop would lead me to poop, but here we are, and it’s not half bad. Adventure is in the air an the world is my- oh no- I think one of the Lions ate some spoiled meat. Gotta go! Till next time.