Allez? Allez.

In Circus, Drafts, Hautvoir, Local projects, Poetry, Querying on March 18, 2015 at 8:29 am

The crowd last night at Bêtes de Foire included most of the people who worked on the show – puppeteers, musicians, constructors of automatons. Crowd being a relative concept. The tent accommodates a maximum of one hundred and thirty people. There will be a fourth showing on Friday in a neighboring village. I doubt I can make it. If I can, I’ll learn even more about the minute precision of the performances, and the stage management of unexpected glitches and sudden inspirations.

While standing in line, I learned that another group of circus artists had lost their big (all right, medium) top to the vandals who destroyed personal property out at Sivens. Slashed their tent to shreds, and good luck with the insurance company. I also learned that the snippets of poems I receive on the screen of my phone aren’t general mailings. “Why don’t you answer my messages,” the clown asked me. “I thought they were general broadcasts,” I answered. This won’t make answering them any easier. I like the person who plays the clown. He has a great wish to see peace on earth and goodwill towards all become the basis of everyone’s political platform. Who can disagree, save for the details of how, when and where to implement to everyone’s satisfaction.

As I write, a message comes in on same phone concerning legal representation for a family in dire need of same. The toughest part in writing fiction: when the “real” world and the fictional one balance out too evenly. Homeostasis, it’s called. Provokes the need to break the balance, even when I’m in full agreement with my friend the clown’s agenda – or, at least, with the sentiment he’s expressing.

Querying? Yes, must keep up with that part of the program. Promises you make to yourself matter. A lot. Even if you have to sort through and do regular updates on them. In the left corner, still crazy after all these years: A fine selection of promises. In the right corner, getting crazier by the minute: real life in full ramification.

As I walked down the rutted sidewalk  yesterday, I noticed the largest potholes in the street had received a sprinkling of asphalt. First round of the departmental elections on Sunday. I had to laugh inwardly at the notion I address my queries and – for the most part, the remarks I post here – to places far, far away where people live their own lives filled with events, big and small, about which I know nothing. A local someone told me she had attempted a read of this blog, but her English wasn’t up to speed. Voilà.

Allez, as the title says, the day beckons.

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