I found a video that my friend took of my routine while I was still trying to figure it out...



Its pretty messy and its not the whole finished routine AND its sideways... But god I miss it...

Anyone could get on a trapeze.

Its a bar and two strings.

Many people could not fathom to do this.

Anyone could weave a piece of cloth.

Its strings woven into strings.

Many people cannot fathom this construction.


There is a dull vibrancy of this knowledge.

It is not anything anyone special has to do.

You don't need to be special in order to weave or sit on a bar.

People tell me I have a lot of courage to do the things I do. Really, like the length of this weaving I think that accusation is absurd. I'm not courageous to start an obscenely long weaving, I'm merely an idiot. It's not courageous to hang 20 feet in the air and do things the average person wouldn't dream of doing, its stupid.

I'm merely a fool and a jester, I just want to have all of the attention and make people smile at my absurdity.

I'm beginning to forget what its like to be on a trapeze... I've started trying to hang upsidedown from my bedframe... Its not the same... its completely stationary...

I bent backwards to immitate my contortion routines... its not the same...

This weaving about trapeze is not the same...

Photoshopping myself upsidedown... its not the same.

Only when I'm sleeping do I see.

Do I sleep to dream?

One day I will wake up and no longer be dreaming.

Life is but the dream of an angel.

Whenever I think of trapeze or other aerial things I think of black...

Like when I'm practicing, I practice in a black box theatre, every things black.

My pants I wear to practice are black, I usually wear a black tank top to practice as well...

I was upside down and the floor was closer than I thought. I hit my head on one swing forward and one swing backwards... I shut my eyes so tight I didn't know where I was anymore. My arm came up to cover myself, it took the rest of the blows that the floor was determined to give my head. I was in the fetal position, swinging right side up or down, it didn't matter. I couldn't breathe.

My head had made a disgusting cracking sound.

My eyes were shut so tight I saw a hundred colors like static on a tv.

I felt my weight lift. I was flying? Passing out?

I was lifted by all of the boys on the team away from my apparatus, I felt like a striken god that was falling.

When I opened my eyes it was just the bright lights that I saw, spinning. I was dizzy.

I was fine, just stunned.

I wove all day...

I think it's more exhausting than trapeze.

I watched the movie The Fall again just now...

I think... This sort of thing is what I mean to convey...

Bright, vibrant, happy colors. But something darker underneath the circus surface...

Little details that aren't meant to be noticed but when noticed are in their own right the most beautiful.

Circus arts are certainly colorful...

But my experience in more of a performance art sense hasn't been so wildly colored...

But it is by no means dull~