Of withdrawn people, trains have many. After a long day of work noone wants to fight over a seat while the leaked sounds from a stranger’s headphone rain over them. I can’t even decide what’s worse- having someone read over my shoulder as I survey the morning newspaper OR having a tired traveler shapeshift into a bobble head as I pray their final resting place doesn’t include my shoulder. It’s clear to me that I’ve become a bitter commuter…unbelievable Schadenfreude when I see a train door close on a six-member family that’s trying to push into my crowded train
I had to travel on the train for 2.5 hours on Tuesday for an evening show in Cortelyou, Brooklyn. My friend, Jennifer Cipperly, is an amazing producer in NY and she invited me to the show. Apparently there is a clown arts resurgence happening in Brooklyn. I was privy to some relatively embarrassing performances, but creative, nonetheless. The Sycamore Bar Basement in Brooklyn is reputably the home to the clown underground world. The patrons at the bar/front of the house were handsome and cool, while the performers in the basement were awkward and full of unbridled energy. I can’t think of another image that better represents the echelons of society. After the show a former clown talked to me about why they’re just not enough mimes in NYC, then Jennifer and I went upstairs and drank with the bartender and his friends until way after closing time. On my 4 a.m. train ride home, I thought about how I knew so much about the mind of the performers I watched…but so little about the bartender, yet I still strangely thought he was cooler. Image is one hell of a thing. Overall, all the clowns and comics who performed were talented and I wish them the very best.
I received a really nice text message from Jennifer the following day: So good to see you…Thanks so much for trekking to deep BK with me.
I really think that the road to a friend is never long.