Category: Clowning

Starting with a yearlong course at École Philippe Gaulier, the world’s premier clown school.

Brass Birmingham: A Play-Log

JulianLeave a comment

When life is a dream, what is the point of dreaming?

While sleeping last night, I played a board game I have never played.

Despite what my subconscious may tell you, I suspect these are not the rules:

Setup

While one player provides an insufficient explanation of the rules, other players select a difficulty level for the game, indicated by various wooden logs.

Level 1:

  • A big log.

Level 2:

  • Three smaller logs.

Level 3:

  • A big log, but a slightly different color.

Components

You, now physically at a lumber mill in a small town in upstate California (not near redwoods), are met by an older, experienced logger who comments on the uniqueness of the region’s dirt.

Turn Sequence

You place your token at the beginning of the board. You move your token around the board with little understanding of why or wherefore.

When you land on a space, the space enacts a horror-themed mechanic reminiscent of Luigi’s Mansion.

Variants

You brainstorm various puns on Brass Birmingham.

Some of these places place the Birmingham in England (“Neon Newcastle”); others place the Birmingham in Alabama (“Copper Chattanooga”).

Return to Reality

You awaken and text the friend with whom you will be playing Brass Birmingham the following day.

You mention this dream and your plan to watch a video containing the actual rules.

Not because that game sounds more fun, but because flying to California for a logging session would take longer than the allotted three hours.

There’s a Fine, Fine Line Between Campy & Bad

JulianLeave a comment

Bad + heightened + self-aware = camp. Bad + heightened – self-aware = bad.

Can you discern between campy acting and bad acting?

On Thursday, I watched a play. Half the actors performed camp; the other half were unskilled. Camp is the mimicry and affectionate mockery of bad. There’s a fine, fine line between them: to the untrained observer, camp could appear as bad.

Thus, the performers must train the observers.

What’s in a Play?

A skilled actor who cannot entertain is not a skilled actor. However, in this situation, I do not think the actors are entirely to blame. An actor in an uncurated environment can only do so much.

The director is responsible for show cohesion, just as a coach is responsible for team cohesion. (A football player can reasonably say, “I played my role perfectly; today’s loss is not my fault.”)

Thursday’s show presented individuals but lacked a bigger picture. Every actor played according to their ability. Some of those abilities were poor. The director failed to account for this gap. Again, I think this is a coaching issue. Plenty of highschool sports teams have bench warmers and waterboys. Plenty of highschool plays contain “tree #1”. (And New York City theater likely has far more people auditioning than available roles.)

Just as a comedian must wink at the audience lest we think him a liar, this play needed a wink. The play was a small-theater (but professional) production of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, a musical containing archetypes — archetypes that, as over-the-top portrayals, may not be authentic. Inauthentic acting done well may be camp. Done poorly? Amateurish.

When the actors first entered the stage, playing mock-audience members, one could have said, “This is going to be campy.” A director’s note in the printed programs could have said, “We lean into the camp.” Instead, the performances fell into the uncanny valley.

A Holistic Hole

A basketball coach must do more than ensure each teammate performs their role. They must ensure the team gets the ball into the basket. Otherwise, you end up with beautiful acrobatics but complete strategic failure.

Or, in this case, a play that audiences did not want to watch.

Wise to the Game

JulianLeave a comment

A relaunch.

I’m most alive when I’m playing games.

A few months ago, my sister asked me about an unspoken rule in her business culture – an implicit game. I told her about games where explicit acknowledgment of the rule breaks the rule, and pointing that out is also against the rule. She thanked me and said I should write about the philosophy of games.

I’ve been thinking about that ever since.

Near the end of my senior year of college, I ushered my father into a room above the library and drew three circles on a whiteboard: writing, philosophy, and befriending eccentric people. In the middle I wrote the question that would pick my profession: “in what areas am I in the top 5% of my classmates?” 

The answer that fell out: befriend eccentric people, then write their philosophy.

Not wanting to be a starving writer, I asked one follow-up: who in that circle has money? Growing up in Silicon Valley, the answer was tech founders. I spent the next six years building that business and rose to the top of the technology ghostwriting industry. It was fun while I was growing. It’s not fun anymore. The game is too easy. 

So today I ran the exercise again, with the ikigai framework:

  • What do I love? Games. Learning new things. Befriending eccentric people.
  • What am I paid for? Writing.
  • What does the world need? Play. Whimsy. Fun.
  • What am I good at? Making complex things clear.

The answer that fell out is games, which makes sense: games are a bounded, examinable instance of the thing the world needs more of. If the world needs more play, games are where play can be examined. I learned this at clown school: the first course isn’t about humor or fun or jokes; it’s about games. 

The three pillars of this publication, going forward:

  1. Games.
  2. Eccentric people.
  3. Practical philosophy.

Writing is the medium. Speaking, eventually.

The new name is Wise to the Game. (My last name is Wise. It’s a pun. A double-pun? No: a triple-pun. Try to keep up.) 

More tomorrow.

Selections & Sewage (Apr 13 2026)

JulianLeave a comment

In which Our hero explores options. 

Click here for the accompanying video. 

Today, Partner and I visited an appliance showroom. Here’s what we learned: 

  • Shower heads come with flow rate limiters. The national legal maximum is 2.5 gallons per minute. You can remove your flow rate limiter, as the salesman at the showroom once did. His shower subsequently shot water with such force that it knocked the shower door clean off and flooded his bathroom. 
  • If you buy a thermostatic shower handle, you can have infinite separate shower heads all pointing at you. The shower heads are each limited at 2.5 gallons per minute. The thermostatic valve caps out at 14 gallons per minute. So even with three shower heads you won’t lose water pressure! All you have to do is ensure you’re shipping the showerhead to a state that does not have more restrictive requirements (California and New York both cap showerheads at 1.8 gallons per minute)
  • Some faucets cost $150. Some cost $800. Some cost $2400. They all dispense water. The $800 vs $2400 is cosmetic. The $150 vs $800 can be functional. 
  • The cheapest toilets and the expensive toilets both will ultimately contain sewage. The cheapest toilets don’t have glazed piping, so over time the sewage will accumulate in the pipe. The mid-range vs expensive toilets are functionally equivalent, just with different aesthetics and different ease of cleaning the part that doesn’t touch sewage. 
  • No one makes a bidet seat in black. 
  • Everyone likes a toto toilet, especially if you’re getting one with a bidet. I’m not convinced. I enjoy a vigorous stream when shooting water around my anus. The toto toilets I have used are disappointing in this context. 
  • Linear drains (long, thin rectangular ones) in New York City are much more expensive than normal, square drains since they must legally be made of more expensive materials. 
  • Steam showers cost $5k, minimum. 
  • Neither Partner nor I like rain head showers. Our dislike, according to the showroom attendant, is a common perspective. 
  • I will likely be able to realize my dream of three showerheads all at once. Bully for me! 
  • One model of toilet costs just over $26,000. It is not made of gold. I did get to sit on it.

An Art (Apr 4 2026) 

JulianLeave a comment

An off-off-off-off Broadway day. 

I attended an art today. A very Burning Man-ish art. Listen: 

You knock on a door in Brooklyn. A clown-not-yet-in-costume opens the door. She tells you the show starts when she dons her hat. But now, she is hatless, so the show must not have started. 

You introduce yourself to the other attendees. There are five of you: you, your partner, a couple (she’s from Bulgaria; he’s a stand up comedian), and a woman of about 80 who formerly performed voiceover work for the Muppets. 

The host dons her hat. She provides you a passport and divides you into groups: you’re with the Bulgarian and Muppet; your partner is with the Standup. The host introduces you to the town: five stations, each themed around a custom topic for you. (Mine was Consistency & Stability.) 

You visit the five stations in sequence. At one, you marry your theme. At another, your theme writes you a letter.
At the beginning of the experience, you ask yourself, “Why am I here?” You imagine yourself leaving to go to a park. Getting some much-needed rest away from the world. 

At one station, the Muppet tells you of how she was engaged to a man in L.A. A beautiful man, an incredible musician. But he had a nervous breakdown and moved back to Las Vegas. And she moved back home to New York City. And had she not done that, she would never have been the in-demand voice over artist she ended up being. 

By the end, you have found in this activity a bit of solace, peace, and comfort.
You met some people who enjoyed the time they passed with you.
You learned a small bit experientially.
If you generally had positive memories, you would have positive ones here too.

After the experience, the clown host mentions she previously studied in France, under the same teacher who founded the clown school you attended.
She says she left his instruction back in the early 2000s, thinking he had failed her. Only after he died did she recognize he had been right all along.
You wonder how much that’s true for you too.
You wonder where you have to go. 

An hour later, you see a dear friend for a bite of dim sum.
It’s his birthday. It’s nice to laugh.
You wander toward home, a bit colder than expected.
You check your texts, and find a thank you from the clown host. She says that your conversation helped her. She may return to that school. 

You arrive home. 

And all this time,
still,
throughout the entire day,
you wonder
why you feel
so utterly
alone. 

Food & Fluff (April 2 2026)

JulianLeave a comment

A view into my daily life. 

“Write about oxtail soup.”
“You could write about how good I am at making tasty food in all sorts of ways.”
“Nooooooo you can’t say that.”
–Partner, in answer to my question, “What should I write about today?” 

Partner and I have a new approach to food.
As we recently moved in and are about to renovate our apartment, cooking options are limited to 1) A sous vide, and 2) Two Instant Pots. 

Why two Instant Pots?
They were free. Unused. From Facebook. From the same person. 

Why did they have two unused Instant Pots?
🤷‍♀️

Partner: “I learned how to make frybread once.”

Me: “Mmhmm?”
Partner: “End of story.” 

Partner: “Okay, the context was someone else talking about the best food and … Indian fry bread.” 

Partner: (Mockingly) “Native American fry bread.” 

Partner is now saying things in an effort to make me write them.
I will not comply. 

—

Me: “You have any edits [on my daily writing]?”
Partner: “Boooooo.” 

Partner, 2 minutes later: “Now I have to self-censor.”
Me: “No you don’t.”
Partner: “Because what I want to say is ‘Poopy butts’.”
<Seeing my writing>
“You wrote it wrong. It was ‘Poopy butt face’. That’s funny. ‘Poopy butts’ is disgusting. You’re an unreliable narrator.” 

—

Partner: “I feel like you need a closing… something clever.” 

(Upon reading this) “That’s not clever.” 

A Triathlon of Triathlons (Mar 31 2026)

JulianLeave a comment

A friend and I created a monster. Let me explain:

We started playing Pokemon during the pandemic. We would race to see who could complete the first gym the fastest. After a few attempts, this got stale, so we expanded to other Pokemon games. There are many to choose from.

Then we developed a scoring system. Pokemon games are naturally divided into 9 segments: 1 for each gym badge, and 1 for the Elite Four. For each segment, whoever completes it faster receives a point. At the end, most points wins.

But that was an insufficient amount of game. So we created a triathlon: play that competition across 3 Pokemon games, crowning victorious whoever wins best two out of three.

But even that was an insufficient amount of game. So we added a second category: total points across all three games. If one player ekes out victories in two of the legs but gets swept in the third, they could win the 2-out-of-3 but lose the points game.

And then, naturally, we play the triathlon three times. A triathlon of triathlons.

First triathlon: I won the 2-out-of-3 but lost the points.
Second triathlon: I lost the 2-out-of-3 but won the points.
Third triathlon: TBD.

Our tiebreaker begins soon. Stay tuned — or better yet, try it yourself. I’ve invented many an excellent game. Maybe someday one will spread to others.

The Gut is The Gut. So What? So What! 

JulianLeave a comment

A poem by Dr Peuss 

When my gut feels bleh
my stable off-kilts
like a broken see-saw
that saws unseen guilt. 

How does it saw over and over? 
knocking down trunks,
kathunk. kathunk. 

i do not like this saddened gut.
i do not like it.
ugh. sad. blut. 

And so I say: gut, let’s make nice.
I’ll feed you oats. I’ll feed you rice.
You do your job, I’ll do mine —
and by tomorrow? We’ll feel fine.

And so I eat my daily fiber.
Or else my gut is a poop-miser.

The Maginot Line (Mar 26 2026)

JulianLeave a comment

Crossing lines and having great times 

After World War I, having been invaded by the Germans five times in under 200 years, the French devised a novel strategy: build an impenetrable line of defenses along the French-German border. The Germans could not defeat this line. The forts and artillery were too strong. The Maginot Line held. I see this same concept all over French culture. 

The Germans went around The Line. Through Belgium. And invaded France yet again.
Oops. 

In the 2010s, France experienced a rash of bombings. In response, there now exist security officers at every sporting event and even many grocery stores. These security officers check bags for weaponry. But if you simply don’t stop? What if you walk through, refusing their patdown? Do they tackle you like the potential terrorist you are? No, they shrug uncomfortably and continue about their business. How do I know? I’ve done this many times. 

When the park closes at 6pm and it’s 5:45, the French gendarmes stand at the entry to prevent your entry. They do this because the park closing at 6pm means everyone must be out by then, not merely in the process of leaving. I accept this difference as a cultural choice and have no qualms with it. But when an American in a silly teal dinosaur hat argues with the gendarme for forty five seconds and then simply plows ahead, they do not apprehend him. They do nothing more than shout “Monsieur! Monsieur” a few times before returning to their croissant. 

Some local frogs (that’s the PC term for French people) taught me a silly game of throwing sticks. I happened upon these frogs thanks to one time I was out for a stroll in the darkness and saw lights and heard laughter. I approached to watch. They said (in French) “this is a private club”. I replied (in French) “we were out for a stroll and saw the lights”. They invited me and Partner to play. 

That experience isn’t the Maginot Line connection. (Even though a boundary did go un-enforced, ahem.)

The Maginot Line connection is that I taught a frog classmate how to play the game and she kept stepping over the line. When I called her out on it (it’s like bocci or bowling: a restriction on one’s distance is literally what makes it a game), she didn’t stop. She continued stepping over the line, stepping on it, using her foot to move the line, etc. It’s like she needed Germanic-level rule enforcement to keep her in line. 

The public parks in France close at sunset. That closure is my least favorite part of French culture. My research suggests this trait is due to the French desire to prevent people from doing bad things. In American legal culture, we’re deeply skeptical of preventive restrictions. Our permissiveness is part of what makes us innovative: you’re allowed to break the law; it just leads to punishment. 

And the fact that we Americans are a violent bunch means people have the honor not to step over lines. Viewing a nude performance art piece in Texas, I asked a fellow audience member what would happen if someone started recording. The local longhorn (that’s PC term for Texan) said that at least a dozen people would beat you up and take your phone. 

During the French Olympics, the U.S. State Department warned Americans about Parisian pickpockets. The Americans responded by beating them up so frequently it became an international meme.
Presumably when a native frog catches a pickpocketed in France, the appropriate response is to shout “Monsieur! Monsieur!” as they run away.