Tag: Relationships

Clown School Break Day 44: The Power from Pain

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In which Our Hero notes the ways that behaviors cover emotions

I might have hurt my pec muscle while lifting weights earlier. Immediately after, I was more fun and entertaining than I’ve been during this entire trip (to see friends over the last week). Is this causal? I think maybe. 

When something is on my mind, it’s much easier to do something else. It’s almost a distraction. In pain? Be entertaining. I read an article on professional comics that said something like “many comics are feeling a lot of pain/sadness when they’re being most entertaining”. (Per this article: “British comedian Stephen Fry confessed to the common mental state he experiences when performing; “there are times when I’m doing QI and I’m going ‘ha ha, yeah, yeah’, and inside I’m going ‘I want to fucking die. I… want… to… fucking… die.'”) 

It was nice to arrive at recognizing that pain and fear. It’s never pleasant to be afraid for one’s body or health. (I should note that the concern is not a big one: if it’s injured in a meaningful way, odds are very high it’s only minor and will resolve itself over the next week or two.) 

It’s also just a fact of life that my failure makes me better elsewhere. Like I’m distracting myself / compensating for something. 

Perhaps that’s

just how

it is 

🤡

Clown School Break Day 42: Making Spades for Poker Pros(pectors)

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In which Our Hero stumbles upon something interesting… 

My partner wants to improve at poker. She 1) has the sort of mind that could be very good at the game, and 2) wants to improve her comfort in situations where she makes the right decision but the outcome turns out bad. [She also 3) wants to improve her comfort in situations where she made the wrong decision and the outcome comes out bad.] 

We watched some theory videos together today. It was very fun. I enjoyed it. I’m excited for more! 

–

My partner asks whether there exist little poker drills, à la “hit the ball at this bucket” in tennis, so you can have fun while learning the skill. I said I didn’t know any. 

We therefore invented a way to teach a particular, very-important poker skill in a manner that’s actually fun. Perhaps we will expand this, refine it, and share it with others! 

… and I built an app for it! More info to come… 🙂 

Clown School Break Day 41: Grocery Store Juggling

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In which our Hero keeps balls in the air. 

Grocery stores are for whimsy.

Listen:

At the grocery store to purchase oranges for non-alcoholic New Year’s mimosas, I tossed oranges toward my partner so she could catch them in the plastic bag. A simple game; a fun game; a game that hurts no one.

My partner caught the first one.

A store employee approached us.

My partner caught the second one.

The employee stood beside us, continuing to watch.

My partner missed the third one. (I shorted the toss.) She retrieved the orange and placed it in the bag.

“Could I ask you to do something?” the clerk said.

“Sure,” I replied, expecting him to tell us to stop. I had expected him to tell us to stop since the moment I saw him walking over.

“I had cataract surgery recently. Could you toss me one of those oranges? I want to see if I can catch it.”

“Sure,” I said. “Tell me when.”

“Now’s good.”

I tossed the orange. He caught it. His face released sunlight it had been holding back for years.

“I used to juggle three balls,” he said. “Not well, but I could keep ‘em in the air. Then cataracts got to me. It’s good to be back.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I didn’t want to ask a friend to toss me something. That would be too intimate. So I figured I’d ask a stranger.”

“Glad I could help.”

My partner and I returned to our toss-and-catch with the oranges. We purchased six pounds of oranges and drove home.

Too often, we stop playing out of fear that someone will tell us to stop, when all they wanted was to play along.

Clown School Break Day 38: An Enjoyable Scene

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In which Our Hero enjoys his people

It’s nice to be in community. I’m visiting some friends in the Northwest. I’ve lived with them for a month or two each of the past two years. If I could tolerate their city, I might live here. We cook, play games, banter. I’d enjoy co-parenting with them.

I’d like the same in New York. I hunch I can do so. I prefer New York. Better weather (Portland seems to almost always be cold and wet), more activity, greater life. I like the vibrancy and culture.

—

I exercised today for the first time in four weeks. Stationary bike. 30mins. Watched an episode of The Bear. My friends and family recommended this show to me back when it came out. Sometimes I’m reticent at the outset but then end up loving it. I wish I would accept it sooner. (But also I just don’t watch much tv / movies.)

—

I spent dinner with eight friends. I like these people. It’s very nice. I’d like more.

We talked about AI and clown school. I think clowning is a skill AI won’t replace. At least the very human act of finding pleasure and sharing it. 

But people have already invented mind- and mood-affecting drugs. What’s the real difference? 

Clown School Break Day 37: Social Place

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In which Our Hero remains visible without belonging. 

Let’s talk about social place. 

In 2018, I bought a van. My most formative non-familial relationship was ending, and I was on a personal journey. 

I spent seven years seeking my place. Living in a van, driving around. My place had been shattered, my foundation upended. I sought the right group of people, the right social place. 

I found the regional Burning Man community. Not the community at the big Burning Man festival itself, but the smaller independent organizations that circle the same principles. I found, perhaps for the first time, a community that accepted me and to which I wanted to contribute. I made art that touched people’s lives. Some of them still speak about it, 5+ years later. 

I moved to New York City in search of a partner. Nearing 30, with my friends all partnering and beginning to spawn, my situation became one of “Is this a part of life you want to have? Because you can seek it later… but it’s much easier if you try now.” One woman broke my heart. I flew to Australia to write a play. Returning to New York a year later, I met my now-partner.  Our first date was 11 days long. For our second date, we drove across the country together. She sublet her apartment, and joined me in nomadicness for the last 2 years. 

I wonder sometimes about social place. I occupy an unusual position. Enough of a dilettante in most areas to be able to hold my own. Friendly and affable, generally found to be helpful, but without roots. 

For most of my childhood, I had a single dedicated friend. Schoolwork was trivial; most of my fellow students I found uninteresting. I’ve left each major experience with some dedicated friends. And a host of pleasant acquaintances, too. 

I’ve never really been a group guy. I have the sort of preference: “Instead of camping with your Burning Man group, how about I camp next to you and we hang out every day?”

If part of life is finding who you are and doing it on purpose, 

at some point it’s worth accepting that I’ve never found a group to be home. 

And probably never will. 

Perhaps my belonging is episodic, relational, and lateral (not collective). 

Still, sometimes it feels lonely. 

Clown School Break Day 36: Empty Spaces

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In which emptiness permeates Our Hero. 

Today I drove in silence. My partner in the passenger seat, surrounded by calm empty space. 

Usually I drive with music or a podcast. This drive was 3.5 hours. 

For the first two hours, just being. 

Once in a while adding a comment. Saying something. Mostly quiet. 

It was nice. 

— 

It reminded me of some time spent on stage. The increased comfort that comes from increased experience. The greater ease that comes from an acceptance of emptiness. 

I’m reminded of the idea variously attributed to Miles Davis and other musical greats: playing the spaces between the notes. 

It’s pleasant to play the spaces between the notes. 

It’s even more enjoyable to let the spaces between the notes play. 

And then

To level up

To the notes themselves playing 

And you simply helping

😌 

Clown School Break Day 35: The New Player 

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In which a new teammate joins Our Hero. 

What is it like to add a new player to an established team? 

Today we added a new player to our 3-person cooperative poker game. 

Upon adding this fourth person, we reverted back to the basic version of the game as it was a fitting level for them. 

Here’s what the experience was like for me: 

  1. Less psychologically engaging. The game was simpler so the intensity was lower. 
  2. More meta-play. I asked more questions, engaged in more conversation, made more jokes. We all did. The game itself was less of the game. We added other games to fill the empty space. 
  3. It was fun for a different reason. The relationship is one I care about. So I prioritized connection and play with this new player. The other players did too. We all wanted them to have a good time. So we left having enjoyed ourselves, but not as much due to the game itself as we had previously. Instead, it was more due to compersion. 

Our new player stepped away. We returned to our triumvirate crew. We took one round to re-acclimate and then clicked back into it. 

Perhaps much of socialization is knowing what game you’re playing at any given time and effectively switching between them. If you have more capacity, add another game. If you’re overwhelmed, let go more. If you’re welcoming a wobbly player you care about, play with them more (outside of the main game itself). And always know which game is most important. 

Clown School Break Day 33: On Planning & Presence 

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In which Our Hero delivers presents (presence?)

Today I delivered gifts to poor families. The town I’m in does a “Christmas effort”: you drive your car to a designated hub; they load in gifts and food; you deliver them to the address.

And once in a while, you see a child jump for joy.

Today, for a few seconds, I experienced that pleasure.

We delivered five boxes in total. Five families whose Christmas gifts and food, from shopping todelivery are provided by donors and volunteers. And by virtue of being at the end of the steps, I get the joy of seeing a 9 or 10 year old jumping up and down with glee.

If I didn’t see this, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it as much. A friend’s friend’s mother volunteers for this organization as a shopper. That project is a puzzle. It’s trying to answer questions like “what would X person want for Christmas” where the only information you’re given is “12 year old”, “boy”, and “speaks only Spanish” and then you’re limited to the piles of gifts that have been donated. The puzzle might be engaging, but it’s not as visceral. You get pleasure from knowing you’re helping.

I got pleasure from seeing the boy happy.

Comparatively, I did little work. The organization’s coordinators. the financial donors, the shoppers, the wrappers: all did more to actually help than I did. I’m just the last mile. Yet I get that actual, real-time pleasure.

It’s a funny trait consistent in many areas: those who are on the ground, at the end, being the boots: you see the people, you get the experience. But the people before have much more impact. (As a simple comparison: what if we were to pay people to do each bit? Shopping for the gifts $50; the gifts themselves cost $100; organizing a team even more. But replacing me with an Uber would be only ~$10.)

The upstream people must be driven by some internal elements instead. By a rich imagination? A strong internal model? A complete lack of presence.

A clown exists in the moment. By (at least my school’s) definition, they interact with the audience in real time. How much is planned? Sometimes a lot. But the interaction itself is live and present.

I wonder if people enjoy different elements. Not everyone wants to perform. Some wish to be agents or producers. Some care enough about the organization or the mission to rise in the ranks.

I think that’s it. Those who care enough – for whatever reason – are willing to undergo the effort to achieve the outcome. And the effort includes leadership, struggle, and trials.

Find what you care about. Dive into it. Give to others.

Over eight years living nomadically, internationally, on the road, I’ve sought my people. I’ve historically found them few and far between. But those who I do like, I adore. Is it a genetic difference? A difference in interests? An unusual focus? Are they just the right kind of autistic? For whatever reason, they’re eccentric and have impactful ideas. We dive deep into our areas and share our experiences. We see ourselves and the world as porous interactions. I contribute to their lives and they to mine.

And if we do it right,

we jump for joy.

Clown School Day 32: A Virtuous Pleasure Cycle

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In which our hero celebrates yet more acclaim (with utmost humility)

Hearing of my post yesterday, the reader who recommended the game emailed to share their joy: “It gave me pleasure to recommend the game. It gave you guys pleasure to play. It gave me pleasure you liked it … a circle of joy. So happy!”

As I read this message, I smiled. For it felt like the most virtuous cycle of pleasure since the invention of what the French call “le soixante-neuf”.

Perhaps what’s most interesting: I now understand why people engage with fans.

Plus: Not only do I have dozens of daily readers (and some more non-subscribed daily readers); I’m also an accessible human person.

You – yes, you – can communicate with me, and I will respond + engage. An act of engagement mirroring that of the audience x clown. 

Humanizing. Connective. Satisfying. 

“Okay,” I then thought, “What would it be like to explore and isolate this wheel of success? Is it the same in all media  (including clown; public intellectual; and writer)?” 

Looking at it, I saw the following wheel: 1) Make a thing; 2) make it public; 3) engage with those who like it. 

I then began thinking: “Wouldn’t it be cool if I brought even more people joy?” and then, a bit of fear: “What if I got big enough to have people who dislike my work?” 

Doubtless, in any city of sufficient size you will have bad actors. Similarly, in any media reach of sufficient size, there are bound to be haters and/or trolls.

As such, the question is not if, but when. And being a sometimes-catastrophizing sort (even when I’m imagining a future world where people enjoy my artistic work enough to be popular), what would they say? Here’s what I imagine, and my thoughts on them:
1. “I hate you” / “you suck”. (People like to say things like this; they’re non-substantive; next.)
2. “You dive into particular and uninteresting rabbitholes” (I follow what interests me. It’s not going to interest everyone. I hope to be accessible to those who will find me valuable.)
3. “You have X blindspot” / “How can you not know Y” / “What the fuck is wrong with you for Z”. (This is my favorite – unnecessarily aggressive, but at least there’s substance. I’ve spent my life separating the person from the idea, parsing for the gold nugget of truth while ignoring the surrounding turd, so these are responses that I genuinely look forward to).

Yet, upon reflection, many of these notes I’ve already heard at clown school. From our Head Teacher in response to one of my performances, I once heard – direct quote – “We don’t like you”, alongside feedback that I failed at showing my personhood/humanity. Last I checked, I have always been a person (and I suspect the Head Teacher knew this). Perhaps this intensity of aggressive attacking is part of the inoculation of clown school. Or perhaps, as a family member put it when I described the social structure of the first two weeks, “that sounds like brainwashing.”

So if clowning (art?) is about creating games and playing them with others, what games do I want to create for my writing audience? 1) in this post, look at the first letters of each paragraph to find a cute little easter egg, and 2) over the next few days, let’s both be on the lookout for where interaction goes. Perhaps it will go nowhere. Or perhaps I’ll find some fun to share. Since clowning is about so much present-ness, there’s really no way to tell. Guess you’ll have to keep reading 

!🤡

Clown School Break Day 31: To Universal Acclaim

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In which Our Hero smiles at the received positivity. 

A friend of my father’s recommended a game today. She reads my daily blog and, since she knows my love for poker and my interest in cooperative games, she linked over a cooperative poker game. Today my family played it. We had a blast. A new favorite. One for the ages. Such glee.

We sent her a video indicating our excitement. She’s glad we’re glad. We’re glad she’s glad. She’s glad that we’re glad that she’s glad. Etc.

I’m glad my daily blog is having such positive impact. With dozens of daily readers, I’m clearly having a positive impact. And the fact that I’ve received recently a bunch of unexpected positive feedback suggests I’m doing something right. I’m also glad that I have people around me who would tell me honestly if they thought something negative about it. But they don’t, so everyone must like it.

—

It’s a game about accurately ranking your poker hands compared to the other players’ hands. You win or lose as a team: either your whole ranking is accurate or it’s not. Play is simple: you rank preflop, then on the flop, turn, and river. Only the river rankings matter: if they’re correct, you all win. If they’re not, you all lose.

A few lessons:

  1. It’s hard to navigate small discrepancies. 8,7 vs 8,6 is nearly impossible to distinguish if no 7 or 6 comes on the board.
  2. Personal proclivities abound. One person’s confident grab of the top rank preflop means only pocket tens or better, while another’s may be Ace-9.
  3. Have fun. This means A) When a conflict arises, diagnose it accurately (was the problem really on the river, or did this stem from preflop?); and B) when you feel uncomfortable, say “I feel uncomfortable”. It’s shocking how well people respond when you simply say “I feel uncomfortable”.

—

I’ve been writing a daily blog about clown school. I suspect (but don’t know) that plenty of my peers read this blog. As yet, no one has said “I feel uncomfortable”. That’s nice. Guess I’ll continue 🙂