Stop Clowning Around, Not!

Dear Ms Nixie,

Lately I’ve been feeling really really sad but as the late great Mr chaplain once said;

Despair is a narcotic, it lulls everyone into a state of indifference. So I’m hoping not to stay stuck here too long. Send in the clowns you might say? Don’t you approve? Where are the clowns? It seems a great love of mine is always tearing around and I’m starting to feel I can’t move. Just when I stopped opening doors then making my entrance again with my usual er meek shuffle, well a rather huge rainy cloud did land itself right here over yours truly. The irony of It all is that I am a clown. I’m not your usual clown. Not what you might expect. Nothing to do with solei or the world stage. I’m not sure how it happened but one minute I was fresh out of clown school and the next I was up for a grand audition. Well that’s what they told me, at the agency “ Stop clowning around , NOT.” It was only when I had the job in the bag that they painted the full picture you see. It seems I was to be a funeral clown. Believe it or not it’s actually a vocation and believe it or not IT’S NOT THAT EASY TO MAKE PEOPLE LAUGH AT A FUNERAL. I feel in the way. I feel inappropriate. I’ve tried everything, jumping out of the coffin with a trick……”He’s alive ….Just kidding…” or placing complementary woopie cushions on the pews as a memorial keep sake. I’ve tried to out-plank the corpse on the altar and I’ve even partaken in a bit of surfing on top of the casket, not to mention miming the loved ones final moments during the Eulogy for a little light relief. The time I used the corpse as a vantroloquists prop really fell flat. I don’t know what to do. I’m really strapped for cash and cant afford to leave. The man of my dreams is totally on fire. He’s the type that tends to fly a little more solo. He works in extreme unicyclism. Yes, its really a thing, kinda like bungy jumping, but for clowns. He’s never gonna go for me. We met at clown school but now I just keep up with him via social media. He’s got a zillion friends and was last seen at a hot party for very cool clowns on unicycles. I tried some fumbling efforts to interact but he pretty much put me back in my place on the ground real quick with a couple of fob offs and patronising troll jokes.

At work, usually I give up pretty quick on the whole routine and end up sitting with relations and friends and asking them to tell me a story about their lost love. Sometimes I cry. IM SUPPOSED TO BE A BLOODY CLOWN. MOST OF THE TIME I CRY. Sometimes they hand me the tissues. Sometimes we both cry together. Sometimes we even laugh about their stories. I’m not real good at jokes Miss. All I really ever wanted was to make people feel better. All I really wanted was a little piece of love for me too. Is that too much to ask?

Yours Truly,

Ms. N. Maybe Next Year.

Dear Ms N.

Do you know what, clowns aren’t always happy. Clowning is an ancient form of catharsis and you’re right in saying goodbye cruel world isn’t the kind of fixed modality u might want to find yourself in. Your plight kinda reminds me of the song by Gary Lewis and the Playboys, everyone loves a clown but a little  in reverse and you’re that one clown they all want to get rid of, well at first.  They don’t dig the show but what they do love is when you let people in. There’s a two way street then my dear girl. It takes all types to make of a world and even if you touch but one heart, then that’s something. Work out what makes people feel loved and go with it. Sounds like youre doing a better job than you might think hey?

As for the unicyclist, you could do two things;

Ask him If Meals on Wheels is cutting back these days

Or…. Just realise you never are going to be an extreme unicyclist and carry on. I would suggest the carry on part. ….Smile, smile darling….” though your heart is aching…. If you smile through yoru fear and sorrow and maybe tomorrow you’ll see the sun come shining through…..light up your face with gladness.”

All the best, now’s the time to keep on trying…. You and everyone….

Love,

Ms Nixie Nicla xx