It's lonely being a clown. You're always stumbling over things and falling down, and then you get up and dust yourself off only to fall back down again. People laugh, but sometimes they don't, and sometimes they just don't see you.
People don't know what to do with a clown when it's not being entertaining. Maybe that's why so many people are afraid of clowns. Also, clowns don't have many great love affairs, and I'm not sure whether that's a problem on the part of the clown, or the other people.
I'll let you know if I ever have the opportunity to figure it out.
All in all, it's fun being a clown when you're in the center of the ring. But when the lights go down and everybody else goes home together, happy and laughing, that's when you feel dark.
You just had a love affair with the audience- working them, wielding your charms. Now, in their absence, that shadowed, vacant territory of the empty seats presses into your spine, paralyzing you with doubt.
You worry about what will happen when you can no longer pick yourself up. And despite your knowing better, despite your belief that love is tragic, disappointing, a farce, you find yourself hoping that someday, somehow, there just might be another clown who- for some whacky reason- is content to go home happy and laughing with you.
No comments:
Post a Comment