Huntsville, AL ~

Years ago I used to have a long and successful route of reenactments where I entertained every weekend from labor day till thanksgiving. It extended over several states and locales, and I met and was seen by thousands and thousands of people. I even regularly traveled into Ontario. I even had stalkers!

In all my days I could never imagine such a thing ever happening to me. At home in Indiana, I couldn’t draw the attention of anyone. All my associates had some sort of substance abuse issue, even the best and kindest ones. None of them successful even on their own terms. To get a date from any one I knew or was likely to meet was an extremely low order of probability, and the pool from which I had to choose was murky at best.

Yet out on the road, I was a minor star of sideshow! Of daring do, courageous and desirable. There were women who would endanger their marriages and kid’s future for a chance to commit sins of the flesh with me! It was quite a boost to my fractured and fragile male ego.

To tell you the truth it didn’t make sense… it was too incongruent. Which was the aberrant reality? Of course it was me! The fans in other states admired my character on the bally stage. No one at home ever saw that.

Home. I would go home to Indiana after two and a half months of highly profitable roaming. Home to a family broken with age and alcoholism, busted dreams and seething viciousness. A home which I could not and never fit in with.

I would stay there from thanksgiving until after Christmas when I would travel to south Florida for my winter shows, and patent snow birding in the Airstream to avoid winter. All Alone.

Those six weeks at home waiting, booking shows, packing for a three or four month hop to south Florida, were done all holding my breath. Steeped in claustrophobic repressed republican paranoia and despotic drunkenness, while I planned and effected my escape from winter, and assholes. All done with no help aid, nor love. Some empty sex was added to the mix of my existence, as spicy and toxic as MSG. And with all the side effects one might expect.

Each year I would get through it. Somehow… I would watch the light change, the days shorten, and the temperature drop. My migratory instinct tug and tug damn hard.

Then I would get on the road and travel south, and savor the trip as long as I could. I would travel old US 41 from Indiana to Fort Myers, and reflect while being a complete Airstream Hobo on my way to my first winter show.

And yet in Florida, my loneliness was utter and complete. The sunshine state’s promises of fun and excess, provided neither. I never found love in Florida. I never found riches, was able to live to anything like excess, or descend into any sort of carnal or licentious indulgences despite the hype of the place.

All I really enjoyed was the weather and the sunlight. Mild spring light times of weather and real sunshine! All tossing my circadian rhythms towards romance and love, all cheated and frustrated. Florida would break my heart each year, and yet I knew it was the best I could do.

But out there on the other side the of the Alleghenies I did find my true love and now we are setting Florida aside for this season. The golden light of the South which beckons me to migrate comes with the most amazing partner. And I need not seek a place to find answers, or love or even excess. I have found them already with the Most Dangerous Beauty Alive™

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Filed under: Comrades in Arms, On The Road, Shows, Swordswallowers In General

There is a curse involved with knowledge and that is of course the responsibility that goes with it. When you have the knowledge of the working of things mechanical, electrical, &c., you are cursed with the vision of its proper or intended order. When things get out of order, and you’re a Midwesterner, the tug for placing things in a repaired state merely adds to the guilt for failing to prevent the disorder to your curse, and millstone of obligation to rise to the need and fear of the displace of incompetence in meeting the challenge all compounds the issue.

And so it is that while on this first leg of our full timing life that the starter on our 9-year-old GMC Yukon (220K miles!) finally completed its slow death. It died on a street in Madison, WI. And I made the repairs myself, on a windy day with temps hovering around 37˚F.

Changing a starter begins with really knowing the problem is with the starter. And empirically I knew that my fate was to dive underneath the truck, reach in the dark and, while laying on my back, unbolt and unwire the wretch, drop it down and replace it with a new one. I had no trouble light, no creeper to lie on — just my cursed knowledge and experience.

I had changed starters before; heavy, black, oily, greasy, schmutz-laden pendulous hunks, murderous to hold in place while impossibly hidden bolts were miserably sought out — while my arms tired and went numb, while rust and crap fell into my eyes.

I had bought a replacement starter a few days before as insurance. When you buy a starter you have the choice of “new” or “rebuilt”. In the universe of starters usually the only real difference is the price. Yet “rebuilt” at $234 was a shock. And then there is the Core Charge. It seems your dead starter can be brought in for a deposit like an old pop bottle. Since mine had not died yet, I paid the additional $30 core charge up front with a promise for a refund when the deceased was brought in.

The starter finally did completely croak two days later. No amount of coaxing, threats, prayers, entreaties or bargains with the Mad Gods, would resurrect it. My fate to face my curse, layered with guilt, cloaked in obligation and fear of failure, was sealed. My time had come.

Now the difference of full timing was washing over me, showing how profoundly one’s perspective changes. Not so long ago another layer of anxiety would be present. Shame of not considering to simply call someone to tow the beast away and fix it all for me, pay for it with a plastic card, and be on my way. I could certainly do it. Yet it seemed out of the question. I knew it wasn’t going to be that hard. I needed to do it myself for myself. A test of skill? of stamina? I deny it all — I’d detest revealing myself as engaging in anything so cliché. No! I am simply so cheap! This flaw I can face and wrap around and warm myself with, like a scratchy horse blanket.

And so it went well. The new starter has a rich clean high-pitched winding sound as sweet as an underage girl’s first kiss. The core charge is retrieved, my paranoia ameliorated, while secure with a truck that starts. It’s time to go to get on the road once more.

2 Acts Onstage »
Filed under: On The Road, Swordswallowers In General

I should proffer the following disclosure in that I have full-timed before, out of necessity as much as desire, so I have memories of independence and fulfillment as a foundation for this enterprise. I am a firm believer that when life gives you limes, make Margaritas, but still go out and find some tequila. Thus, we decided to hitch up the Airstream and go forward with our lives.

Also I must note that I am full-timing with the Most Dangerous Beauty Alive™ which is a delight and a wonder. The difference between full-timing with one’s lover, and full-timing with one’s loneliness cannot be appreciated until experienced, and I don’t suggest the latter. We have been traveling together now for 5 years on short jaunts of a week or two, and up to a few months at a time. We know how to do this thing and are better rehearsed than many new full timers.

The initial paranoia phase has passed, as it is now with surety that all our crap is stowed and we are not over weight according to the Flying J scales and my calculations. What a relief.

As performers we carry props and costumes for several different versions of our shows. In addition to fire and swords, we carry props for Fortune Telling: Tea Leaf Reading, Tarot, Crystal Gazing. My rare library of Phrenological literature from the 18th and 19th Century is on board along with radio and video production gear and three computers. We have made good money with all of this stuff.

Of course there’s all the regular full timing stuff. To Wit: lawn chairs, a carpet for under the awning, hoses and water filters, extension cords, truck and trailer care items, a spare tire, bottles, jacks and three heavy tool boxes loaded to fix anything.

It all fit and fit rather well. There is even room for Brundlefly the cat.

We are now Executive Hobos. Let our mood reflect the freedom we have sought out. Let us not carry along with us the biliousness of our urban dysphoria. Let it remain in the rear view mirror, and fade away along with abandoned zip codes, and time zones.

1 Act Onstage »
Filed under: On The Road, Swordswallowers In General

Below is the context for the post that follows. Watch and be amused. Or unamused, as the case may be ….

There are so many things I could say about this particular advert, and the related one with our heroes singing about working in a pirate themed restaurant. I suppose I should begin by saying that I am not at all offended by either of them, so that will not be the crux of this post.

What I am is very disturbed.

Befre you go the route of thinking I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, consider the following. It has been well documented throughout the years that television has been a force on the planet that most (not all, mind you) people who partake of it on regular basis will accept what is presented through it as fact, no questions asked, no further skepticism or inquiry needed. So it stands to reason that people seeing the ad above will now “know” that all of us who work Ren Faires do so because we are forced to by bad credit. That it is a parody makes no difference in this case. This has been established in many, many communication studies. Bad credit, television tells us, is due to irresponsibility and therefore this ad by context tells us that Ren Fair employees are irresponsible. They have no one to blame but themselves for their “predicament”.

Really? Which Faires would these be that employ these people? Not the ones we work. The last event we worked, the Greater St. Louis Renaissance Faire, is a 501c3 with dedicated education days, to which school age kids from HOURS away are bussed so they can learn a few things in an environment that’s fun and interactive.  The acts we work with at this event, and many others, are high caliber entertainers, world record holders, some internationally known. These are acts that support families with what they do, and I don’t mean check-to-check, just-getting-by. The are raising and educating children and doing a darn fine job of it. And I could go on for hours about the dedication of those who cook food for us and the public, work the lanes as characters, take tickets and provide information, and the parking attendants who see that everyone who makes the drive gets to come and play.

I don’t think any of us described above see ourselves in this ad. We laugh about it a bit, but after that’s done, there’s the unsettling realization that for the majority of viewers, this is now their worldview on what sort of person works at the Renaissance Faire. It is sad to me that so little recognition is given to the validity of one the last vestiges of sideshow style entertainment outside of Coney Island. It is sad to me that the hard work of a volunteer staff goes unrecognized. It is sad to me that a tip in the hat of a performer might be given out of pity rather than appreciation.

It’s my hope that the last two statements will hold mostly untrue in this world, but I’m a realist about the power of television.

Never mind the fact that I worked on completing my second college degree while working Ren Faires, generating credit for my time spent working Ren Faires and graduating Magna Cum Laude with Ren Faire income helping to pay for it all. Never mind the fact that Alex works for many places on the Historical Register and is one of the most popular acts on the grant-driven Historical circuit for his attention to detail and accuracy for the time periods in which he performs. Never mind the fact that one of the acts we work with every year is one of the highest paid performers in his genre in the world. Never mind the fact that the children we know raised on the Ren Faire circuit are well-adjusted and well-behaved. Home schooled, you know … and perfectly well-socialized, thankyouverymuch.

We have mortgages, leases, vehicles to pay off and maintain, and we do so with the same struggles the rest of you out there have, I’m certain. While there are certainly some who fit the profile of the ad above, they do not comprise the majority. Look at any blue-collar trade and you’ll see very much the same dynamic at work.

And, unfortunately, the same prejudices.

Ask those of us at the Faire if we are working there because we have no other choice. Really. Ask us. The answers you get may just change your worldview.

It is my hope other performers and Ren Faire workers will chime in on this one. I’m just so completely sick of those of us who choose to work in the variety arts being vilified and mocked for what we choose to do for a living by those who have no understanding of what it entails. Listen to Chris McDaniel’s episode of NPC’s Conjurers, Carnies & Collectors for further exploration on the topic.

Okay. End of rant. Let the flaming commence. I just had to get this off my chest ….

3 Acts Onstage »
Filed under: Comrades in Arms, Props & Tools, Shows, The Swordswallowers

Hello? *taptaptap* Is this thing on?

Well HELLO! It’s been WAY too long since we’ve given an update here at the Swordswallowers corner of the Internet.

We are alive and well and happily working at the Greater Saint Louis Renaissance Faire, one of a tiny handful of Renaissance events we do on a regular basis. It is a wonderful event run by a 501c3 boasting one of the most dedicated volunteer staffs a fair could ever want. Crowds have been playful and large and our stage is once more shared by the fabulous Musical Blades and a new friend, Molotov the Gypsy. We were only able to commit to the middle two weekends of the event this year as we are making preparations to be more readily able to travel at a moment’s notice. We hope to add some more shows to our route in 2010 and are deciding who we will approach with which of our specific shows.

The tanager has not returned. The less said about that, the better, so I’ll end that thought here.

Last year saw us flooded out on Memorial Day with the Faire being forced to close. We were fortunate to have come through it unscathed but many on site didn’t fare as well, with one vendor of lovely delicate glass items suffering a total loss. This year, while slightly rainy, gave us nothing close to the epic amounts of rainfall that we saw in 2008. In general, 209 has been a much better year for us and for most of the performers and folks we know. Again, the less said about 2008, the better!

It is positively wonderful to be back on the road and planning for more road time with greater consistency. This is a life we respond to very very well and the simplicity of it makes it that much more desirable to pursue. We are among friends and fellow travelers and look forward to spending some social time out with a number of them before we all return to work on Saturday.

It is good to be home. Wherever that happens to be.

6 Acts Onstage »
Filed under: Comrades in Arms, On The Road, Shows