In which Our Hero exits and rizz returns.
Clown School
I was asked to leave clown school.
While true, that’s… misleading.
The teachers said, “Given your foot injury and inability to walk, we recommend you get a refund and do the course later. But it’s your choice.” Then I chose to step away.
Still: it’s funny to have been asked to leave clown school.
What’s also funny is how much easier it is to connect with people now than it was 48 hours ago.
Rizz has returned. The joy is back.
Being playful with your average person—my former orthodontist, the woman at the deli counter—is somehow much easier than being playful on that stage. Why?
- Because it’s an American cultural context I actually understand?
- Because the stakes are lower? (No audience, no judges, no clowns.)
- Because the people I meet day-to-day have normal expectations instead of self-selected charisma-sniper standards?
- Because in the real world I’m not comparing myself to self-obsessed entertainment-optimizers?
Either way, I have more rizz. And I enjoy it more. #RizzOut
Orthopedics, Act II
Second orthopedist today. Foot is still fractured. Maybe I could clown. But not with vigor.
No running or jumping for at least six weeks.
Still, relief.
The X-ray technician asked how I hurt it. I said “clown school.”
I said Borat went there.
He likes Borat.
He therefore understood what I mean by “clown”.
The nurse practitioner confirmed: full fracture. No impact activities for weeks. Healing should happen. I can return to clowning soon-ish.
Until then, I seek rest and rejuvenation. And a healed metatarsal.
However much grow-y that school was… it wasn’t comfortable.
Somehow, a broken foot feels like less pain.
Performers and Introverts
How many clowns are introverts? How many performers?
People who love to be loved, but aren’t naturally social otherwise.
Eddie Murphy comes to mind. I watched his new Netflix documentary yesterday. He’s a performer; an analyzer of entertainment; but not exactly a social butterfly. Offstage, subdued. Self-contained. Kate McKinnon as well.
It’s surprising how many wildly successful performers are like that. As if they (we?) get the social nutrition required for survival from adulation, not connection. And then tend to ourselves in private.
An interesting observation. What would I do with it?
Embrace my inner introvert?
On stage, perform? Off-stage, do bits as protection to avoid the normal boringness of average interaction?
If that’s my fun, why not follow?
Julian Wise 