Searching for words to capture a feeling. . . to tell a story. To flesh out complicated plot lines, twists and characters. I woke from a nightmare even before Polly was up this morning. Evidently I was being arrested for doing something really bad, and I was going to jail forever. That's a bigger problem for me because I'm immortal.
Thinking a lot about my art these days. While there is comfort in having done the same act for sooooooo long, it doesn't necessarily represent who I am today, or my current artistic vision. That seems to imply that I do have an artistic vision. Actually I do and it has something to do with making my magic matter.
My shows were fun last night. Although the traffic was light, I was the only street performer out there from 8-10PM. I liked the lack of distraction for for me and the audience. People were surprising; engaged, laughing and responding with smiles and good vibes. Love working with the music and the mic at the same time.
A new deck of cards
breaking in the deck
a few faro shuffles
then an array of fancy cuts
soft and smooth like the nape of a woman's back
I'm addicted to card magic
It used to be social mechanism where I would shuffle cards when I was uncomfortable, or nervous, happy, or sad. . . . ok I've been shuffling 3 packs a day for 30 years. My name is Tom and I'm a cardaholic. You know it's bad when your friends tell you that you're insufferable.
Act 1 Scene 1
A good looking couple are enjoying a nice intimate dinner at a romantic restaurant. Candle lit, soft music swells as they look lovingly into each other's eyes. With his left hand he takes her hand and gently squeezes it. The perfect evening is in progress until a magician buddy of his walks by from the bar. "Hey honey, that's Bob". Bob sees his pal and immediately takes out his cards and says, "Man, you GOT to see this". It's called Pulp Friction it's a FUCKING SICK Utility sleight that can do anything! The girl is agitated and the guy oblivious. He takes his own pack of cards out of his pocket and tries to walk through the technical slight with Bob. The guys are getting excited and starting to talk about Erdnace. She gently pulls his hand as to say, "Hey. . . what about me? I have boobs." The tug dislodges a silver dollar that he's been palming all night and she isn't happy.
If this sounds like you, there is hope. I know, because through hard work and therapy I am finding a balance in my life. I'm down to one pack of cards a week and I no longer think about split fan productions during sex.