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Painting a Picture

I haven't been taking enough pictures lately.  I have had some great moments in circus  -- and camp -- history, but don't yet have the photographic proof so many of you need.  So, I will paint pictures for you and get some photos up soon.

"Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air..." 
Joni Mitchell was describing clouds but I'd say that looks just like cotton candy.  And I should know after spinning 1,000 bags of the confection. 

Ironic, I know.  For those who know my tastes and near militaristic attachment to a diet free of sugar, predominantly, it's a total hoot to see me making clouds and clouds of cotton candy.  And it does look like clouds.  Hell, if you took out the color, flavor and sugar, there would be... OK, there would be nothing but air.

Cotton candy is nothing but sugar, a toxic substance called Flossine and hot, hot air.  Oh, and centrifugal force.  A cotton candy machine is nothing more than a spinning stove top  with a hole in the center and a circular tub on the outside to catch the spun sugar, or floss as it's called in circus circles.  Circles...  Funny.

Well I've looked at cotton candy from both sides now and it's all illusion, I recall. The cotton candy machine would not even be noticed in a discipline dungeon.  There are actually leather straps on the spinning hot thing!  And, yes, mistress, they hurt.  A lot.

The head spins at an amazing speed as heating elements that look just like those on your electric stove heat the sugar to well over 200 degrees Fahrenheit.  When you pour the concoction (five pounds of sugar and a teaspoon of Flossine) into the rotating head, the granules that miss hit your skin like tiny, hot, sweet little missiles.  Then the fun begins.

The floss flows out of little slits in the spinning heat element and attach themselves to a plastic grating attached to the inside the donut-shaped bowl that fits over the spinning torture device.  The leather straps change the actual weather in the bowl, keeping the floss low enough to scoop up.

The cotton candy is then twisted around a cone of paper and wrapped, counter to the way the candy spews out of the contraption (that's a clockwise twisting turn of the cone against the counter clockwise rush of confection), and, voila!  There you have a cone of cotton candy.

But I was advised to just do it by hand as that would be quicker and, uh we forgot to leave you the paper cones and.. uh.. Yeah, I saw them do it like that at Ringling...

So, I put my gloved hand into the bows and flows of Devil spew and pulled out a perfect oval of confection.  Then I wrapped it into a bouffant-shaped pile and stuck in into a bag opened by a colleague. 

One thousand times! 

It started out as fun.  It was too hot and too sweet.  It was torture.  But mainly it was sticky!

I made a ton of your average, every-day pink, a lot of the grape-flavored purple and various combinations of the two. (There are also yellow Banana and, uh, blue Blueberry flavors of Flossine but we didn't have any.)  So mine were pink vanilla and purple grape... and pinkaple... and... purpink.

I also tried to make some with just sugar and, after three of four tries to get the color out of the machine entirely, there it was!  A hand-held cloud.

The next day it rained all over the kid's carnival.  A thousand bags of cotton candy for about 850 kids.  I don't know got seconds or who ended up with the cloud of pure white sugar but somehow I don't think he or she minded.  So many things I could have done (that day) but clouds (of cotton candy) got in my way...

What I Did For Love

Warning!  Some of the photos are of a graphic nature.  If you are squeamish, don't like blood and scars, are nursing, or just like your Kevin Six in one piece, please click the back button on your browser now.

You have been warned.

One and two days ago (Saturday and Sunday last), I performed for Circus of the Kids at the summer camp where I have been working and trapeze flying for the summer.  This past weekend was the culmination of a long six days of rehearsal, rigging, costuming and performing.

This injury, to my left hand, was costume related.  I was taking out the vest I wear in the Teeta Board act and the pin that holds it together reached out and bit me.  I bled.  It was the least of my wounds...  Here is a photo of my scratched left hand.

As a trapeze flier and catcher, the hands get their share of abuse.  I'm glad to report that my hands are free from injury due to swinging from trapezes.  My right hand is unscathed but my lefty got it twice.  Once from that pesky safety pin and once again from a pair of pliers.

OK it's not that bad but let me tell you.  It hurts the most.  I was rigging in the circus area as the camp owner was conducting a tour.  He introduced me as I closed my hand on the pliers and, wouldn't you know, the pliers had a wire cutter on them.  I said, "Welcome to circus!"

The smaller cuts are the toughest and in the softest part of my hand too.  Wah.

Another pesky little cut is the one under my left eye.  This came courtesy of one of my fliers in the show.  The legs catch is the easiest and hardest trick in trapeze.  Easy for the flier, she just swings out, doges my face and...

You guessed it.  The hard part is catching a toenail to the cheek.  I bled a little and kept catching.  We needed the rehearsal time. She did the trick correctly after that, bless her heart.

The thighs get the worst of it.  I've decided to show you the scratches to the outside of my left thigh.  These are from climbing a cable rope ladder to the top of the rig to remove a pulley block.  I hung my leg over the ladder and my chest over the rig (30 feet in the air) and didn't notice I was bleeding until I came down.  Both thighs are bruised on top from catching.  If this were the 80s and the short style was shorter, people would see them but so far it's our little secret.

The right big toe isn't technically a trapeze injury.  Except that it keeps catching on the net and bleeding.  Last time for the Sunday show.  (It seems that I spent more time in the catch trap bleeding than catching.)  Here's what the toe looked like on Sunday night but it's looked like that for a long time now. This injury started life as a ingrown toenail and has been getting bumped, bruised and bloodied for weeks.

Gross, huh?  And that's not all...

Just imagine if I showed you the few others that good taste and prudence keep me from photographing and posting.

Nature

Well, my summer camp has a nature shack and there are chicks, bunnies, sheep and two goats.

One is called Zygote (or Zy Goat, I don't know which) and the other is called Casper the Friendly Goat.

That's not what the kids call them, it's what the circus people call them.

Oh yes and they love to be petted.  So much so that they literally scream until we go over there and pet them.

But they don't like being picked up.  Trust me on that.

Woodstock

His name is Duke Devlin.  The tattoos on his arms show Woodstook art, the numbers 1, 9, 6 and 9 and various other counterculture icons.  He was the "Cultural Guide" for Woodstock. 

The place is now run by the Bethel Woods Cultural Center.  Not a hippie among them, except Duke, who I hope at least gets a pension. 
But something tells me that Duke is a volunteer.

 

Here is the marker commemorating the original Woodstook site. 

 

 

It took a few years to get it up.  It was commissioned in  1984 (another auspicious year) fully  fifteen years after the greatest music festival in history.

Here's where the stage was all those years ago.

Here's where 500,000 people stood, smoked and steeped themselves in music.

The totem pole in the center of this picture features images of Jimi Hendrix, Janice Joplin and  the Thunderbird sending them to heaven.

Duke said that you could "run down and look at for about three minutes before you get kicked out."

The building on the right houses the Bethel Woods Cultural Center and the Woodstock Museum, which costs $13... so... I'll go there when I get the scratch.

The coolest thing was this 30th anniversary commemorative plaque.

 

Here's a photo of the 5000,000 who came to Woodstock in the Summer of Love.  Duke says he was there, my friend Nancy was there and about 1.5 million were stuck on the roads and couldn't get in.

 

And five miles from here I sit at summer camp.  Missing my loved ones, the ocean and can't even view these people and things on the internet (long story).  Suffice it to say that I will drop out soon.  Hope you're feeling peace, love and happiness in abundance!  Love!

New Perspective Review

Thank you, Pat Launer!

Once again the Doyenne of San Diego Theatre has spoken and what she said was great!  She likes me, she really, really likes me.  Here are excerpts of the New Perspective review... "...with online ‘viral marketing’ (some of it very clever) by Kevin Six." and, under Other Appealing Plays: " No Problem, written (by Kevin Six) like the Abbott and   Costello classic “Who’s on first?” and directed (by DJ Sullivan) like a piece from David Ives’ All in the Timing. Wonderfully executed, with crackerjack timing, by Sherri      Allen and Marc Biagi."

Read the rest of the review here.

Bethel New York is NOT Haunted

Go to the end of Silver Lake Road and, three hundred or so yards down, is a set of abandoned and creepy old farm buildings.  It looked to me that there had been some kind of rendering going on but I couldn't be sure.  So... I entered the building, going against the plot of every horror film I'd ever seen.

The place wasn't overwhelmingly scary as much as it was nerve wracking.  A little creepy.  OK.  It was scary.  But more because I was wearing  flip flops.

Whatever it was that was grown on this farm and processed in this building got the holy hell chopped put of it.  These machines (there were four of them) were four feet wide and had hundreds of sharp blades.  This room was scary enough that there was no animal smell.  There was a lot of dust and rust on the floor but no evidence of animals sleeping or pooping there.

Maybe the processing was of fruits or vegetables.  But, if that's so, what comes out of those pipes in the photo above?  I think it was rendering of chicken parts.  The camera ran out of batteries before I could snap photos of the large tanks that go under the pipes and the egg crates.  My theory is that chickens gave eggs, fat and body parts for food.  But I don't know for sure.

On the way out I spotted a fuel hose and this pump.  So there could have been some bio fuels processed here.  But I doubt it. 

This stuff was dozens of years old and has been sitting in the elements for dozens more years.  Whatever was processed here moved by trucks fueled by tanks that are probably still underground. 

Eureka!  I struck gas!

On the way to Bethel -- and as far away from the scary processing plant as I could get -- I saw a Ukulele tree.  More scary movie vibes ran up and down my spine.

The Uke only had one string.  I thought of taking it and learning to play but thought better when I finally realized I was in a horror film.  I mean, come on! 

Everyone knows that if you take the odd object from the tree just near the creepy abandoned buildings you open the gates of hell.  Duh! 

So I left it there for some unsuspecting, and no doubt better looking, camp counselors to stumble upon.

You've gotta love a place named after you, even if you don't eat anything they carry.  Actually, I heard that Kevin makes a mean set of chicken wings.  I wonder if the chickens used to come from the processing plant down the street? 

I didn't have the heart, or the guts, to ask anyone.  I know from experience that once you start asking locals about things, you start piecing things together that no one, including the local sheriff, his smarter and better looking deputy and the local doctor and/or professor had ever done since the horrible accident... 

I just decided to get on with my first day off in two weeks.

The town of Bethel is equal parts charming New England-style architecture and ghost town.  Of course, if this were night time, the swamp thing would have ascended from the lake and eaten me while hanging out. 

Good thing I was reading and taking photos and it was the middle of a bright sunny day.  I really don't want to find out the town's secret, solve it and watch everyone who was introduced in the first reel die.  Really.

The lake was quite nice and a little bigger than Silver Lake, where my camp is situated.  There were a lot of three-months-out-of-the-year boaters pulling boats out.  the lake was off limits to all but boaters and fishers.  No swimming allowed. 

Obviously this has to do with the curse that I want nothing to do with.

Here is an example of the quaint, small-ghost-town architecture.  A gift shop that was abandoned.  Also abandoned were about 50 books that had survived the previous evening's rain storm.  Among the books was Portonoy's Complaint.

I'm sure that had I dug deeper into the pile I would have found a book about Bethel, written by the local professor, that details the lives of the evil chicken processing plant owner and his golden child, who was on his way to compete in the Olympic trials when he was struck by a ski boat 50 years ago.

Come on.  I'm not biting.  As I already said.  It was my day off and there are people without my acting chops (I am a way better actor than anyone in horror movies) who can solve these mysteries.

I know what you're thinking.  Clue number one.  The initials of the drowned boy who's ghost splits his time between lurking in the abandoned processing plant and the bottom of the lake.  Oh, and murdering unsuspecting young camp counselors with as much sense as clothing on their tight bodies, right?

Or those letters could signify "left" and "right" and, until Scooby Do and the gang in the Mystery Mobile arrive at camp, I'm going on with my day off.

Next time, Woodstock!  Stay tuned!

Circus Goes To The Circus

As some of you know, I'm working a circus program in upstate New York.  Well, today the circus came to town.  The little mountain town of Montecello New York hosted the Cole Brothers Circus and Circus of the Kids attended.

Bruce Pfeffer, who owns and operates Circus of the Kids, was traveling into town to get the bus fixed.  He saw the big top and, being the circus professional he is, walked up and wrangled us $22 tickets for $5.  So we all trotted down to Montecello and saw a pretty great little show.  Here I am with Bruce as he eats an icee before the show.  He has an icee maker but always tries to keep up with how the other circuses of the world make and sell things.  For example, the silly blow-up things that every circus sells come from one place: RINCO (Rhode Island Novelty Company).

Actually, RINCO is the only manufacturer of blow-up aliens, airplanes, fright wigs and those cool lighted thingeys that spin and cast eerie light in the arena.  I'd say about half of the kids had these thingeys and another 3rd had blow-up aliens.  What is it with blow up aliens?  Bruce tells me that the performers in most circuses make more money in commission for selling these thingeys -- and concessions too -- than they do for performing and, sure enough, we recognized many of the performers hawking wares before, during and after the show.

It's interesting to watch a circus show with a group pf circus performers.  We really appreciated every little thing that went on and clapped for even the easiest looking tricks -- because we know how hard it is to make these things look easy.  The audience loved the show but probably saw 10% of what we saw.  Bruce and I talked about rigging the whole time. 

Here is the Circus of the Kids crew before the show, from left to right.  Top Row: Michal from Ireland , Jamie from England, Katie from Kentucky, Steag from Scotland, Sarah from Jersey, Stefan from France.  Second row: Jaleen from Sacramento via Ohio, Hannah from England and Zach from... Hey, where is he from?  Made in America, I'm sure.  Not Pictured: Sarah and Avril from England, Clayton from Kentucky, Felipe from Columbia, Bruce and yours truly.

The rest of the pictures aren't the best.  They were taken without a flash and with an inexpensive digital camera.  Here's the guy on the Wheel of Death.  This act always puts me on the edge of my seat.  On thing he did that Bruce and I had never seen (and Bruce has been doing this stuff for 40 or more years) was coast on the outside of the wheel for a whole revolution.  That is, he just stood there and let the spinning wheel spin.  No, they didn't play the Tom Jones hit but they should have.  I mean just look at the pantsuit.

The flying act was pretty good.  I have a lot of pictures of white streaks but here's one of the guy getting ready to throw a triple.  There was a double layout, a full-twisting double layout, the triple and a really great passing leap.  Two flyers took off -- one behind the other -- on the same bar.  The first one (closest to the catcher) gave him his legs and the other one came back, did an uprise and shot over the first one returning from the legs catch.  Then they both returned to the platform. Very cool!

Then this woman hung fro her hair. 

There were camels, dogs and elephants, the elephants were the best.  Then there was human cannonball in the largest cannon in the world.  That's what it said on the truck and it was pretty big.  I got a photo of that one too but, again, just a white streak.  Looks like rain again tomorrow so more indoor circus activities.  More soon.

Love!

First Catch?

Here is Clayton catching yours truly.  Kind of.  He is new at catching but strong and enthusiastic.  We were THIS close to catching.

I also got to catch one of the other circus staff, Jamie but neither of us had a camera.  Jaleen pulled the safety lines for both.  We're all having a lot of fun.

More soon!