I took a long walk on the beach this afternoon. Needed to clear my head. Had the headphones on listening to the Dead, Stella Blue.
“All the years combine, they melt into a dream,
A broken angel sings from a guitar.
In the end, there's just a song, comes cryin' up the night
Thru all the broken dreams and vanished years.
Stella blue”
Received the sad news that a friend of mine had died. About the time that the surf hit my knees, I realized that I was not going to mourn his death, but rather celebrate his life. I felt the same way when my mom passed. People that are dealing with deteriorating health, pain and loss of quality of life; it’s almost a relief. I hope that doesn’t sound harsh.
I prefer to think of Cellini as the guy I met when I was growing up. He was like out of a fairy tale and introduced me to the notion of personal adventure and showed me how a magician lived. It wasn’t just tricks and showmanship, technique and practice it was a crash course in life. I met him when I was 16 in New Orleans, then again when I was 18 in New York CIty; then I spent 9 months studying closely with him on a daily basis in 1984 when I was 19. That’s when our friendship became cemented. He was my mentor, teacher, friend and father figure. He had a work ethic and style all his own. “Be the first one out there in the morning, the last one to leave in the evening. . . . and never eat out.” That’s what he used to say. He was a work horse, grinding out show after show in the melting humidity of a New Orleans summer day.
I loved him, and liked to think that he loved me. He taught me so many things, like how to draw a crowd, a few people at first, then bring them in to unify them into an audience. He taught me about crowd mentality and how to use this to my advantage. So many years ago. . . a quarter century.
He will be missed and the stories he leaves behind legend. Those who knew him and called him a friend will cherish the time that he lavished on us.
His magic, his gift of time and education that he gave me. I can hardly imagine what my life would have been, had I not hooked up with him.
An orphan from New Hampshire, a door to door salesman, a Slydini student, lead singer in a rock band, street magician, teacher, world traveler, father, husband, friend. . . . he will be missed.
I feel lucky to have known such a man, to call him my friend and to call him on the phone when I wanted.
“When all the cards are down, there's nothing left to see,
There's just the pavement left and broken dreams.
In the end there's still that song comes cryin' like the wind.
Down every lonely street that's ever been
Stella blue”
Received the sad news that a friend of mine had died. About the time that the surf hit my knees, I realized that I was not going to mourn his death, but rather celebrate his life. I felt the same way when my mom passed. People that are dealing with deteriorating health, pain and loss of quality of life; it’s almost a relief. I hope that doesn’t sound harsh.
I worked for an hour an a half for meager results, a couple of deck sales and maybe ten or 15 bucks. . . ugly really, for a Saturday afternoon. Anyway, here comes Marilyn Monroe with her panties all twisted in a knot. She starts right in on me asking me angrily why I didn't leave after 15 minutes like I said I would. I tried to remind her what I HAD said, that if she had an issue with me, that she needed to communicate that to me and and I would leave. Even at that point (as I was ready to split anyway), I looked her right in the eyes and told her that she would never have a problem with me, and that if she still wanted me to leave I would. This seemed to make her more angry and she went of on some verbal rant about how she was a Christian and that she knew what I was. I thought she meant that I was Jewish. With an ugly face (clearly past her prime as a Marilyn Monroe), she rambled loudly about how I was going to hell for doing magic, bla, bla, bla). I turned on my mic and started to make fun of her. it was starting to draw a crowd. I told her that the only thing that she had in common with Marilyn Monroe, was that they were both crazy. Rather than leave at this point, I dug in my heals and worked another 40 minutes to the same mediocre results.
A few weeks ago I got a call from my friend Mickey O’Connor. I’ve known Mickey for almost a quarter century. I’ve watched him grow as a street performer, person, film maker, husband, father and friend. He was very excited to tell me about the movie that he had seen that afternoon. It was a documentary about a french street performer named Philippe Petit, wire walker, juggler and magician. It was the true story of the realizing of his desire to walk on a high wire between the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in Manhattan.
The movie begins before the buildings were even built. It chronicles the building of the tallest buildings in the world, with great archival film footage. The Twin Towers represent many things to many people, but for this one unique individual, he knew that they only had one real purpose, to be the stage for the greatest stunt of his life.
I like marching bands as much as the next guy. . . just not in the middle of my show. Luckily, that didn't happen. I was notified 20 minutes before the band came through; and came through they did. . . all million of them, marching from one end of the City Walk to the other. There must have been 100 trumpeters and as many saxes, maybe 20-30 big brass tuba's. Quite a scene on on new years eve. 
My last shows of 2007 were mediocre. I wanted to do my best work and tried to make that happen but some things are out of my hands. People were way more distracted than normal. I was happy to be done by 8:30PM. Kayma has been here with his baby and Dack is visiting as well. Our house a whirlwind of activity. Later I'll head to the City Walk, pick up the Jan. schedule and if I'm on it and it's not raining I'll work this evening. Not feeling so well. Won't bother me if I have to stay home and in bed.
In October, I've had to switch things up a bit on key nights (Friday's and Saturday nights). Because of peak traffic on these nights for a Halloween event, there are no street performers allowed where I normally work on those nights. So, I've had to work 12-5PM instead of my normal 6-10PM shift. This has caused my earnings to be off this month since the City Walk doesn't really gel up until 4 or 5PM. Friday, I left the City Walk around 7PM. Feeling as though I wanted to try and pick it up a bit I went to Hollywood and Highland where I traded off shows with Daniel Davenport and a young man named Matt.
Click pic to enlarge.
He wasn’t hurt and there was no incident. But I immediately thought, I wouldn’t want anyone throwing anything in Buster’s eye. I felt bad about how I handled the situation and wish I could have apologized to him. Well there you have it. I’m ashamed that I let that little mother fucker ruffle my feathers.
Steve Bradford (venue manager and street performer coordinator for the Santa Monica Third Street Promenade) gave me a call recently about a new street performing opportunity in Huntington Beach. He's coordinating street performers for a new thing they're trying on Tuesday nights. I left at 3PM thinking that I could get there by 5PM. Think again. It took me 2 and a half hours to go 60 miles. Jeez! I don't remember it being that far when I lived there 20 years ago. 
