Kategoria: runot

Fucking Clowns – A flexible woman.

Among the fucking clowns
He bent himself into every knot
Where man bent
A triumphal arch on the estrade
To the jubilation of others in class
The working class, the creative class, and every fucking class
And he, the most formally qualified
Forgot his form and left the circus
And took his place as a reading lamp in the country library

Fucking Clowns – Alan Paine and sector pressure

The strongman Alan Paine did not enjoy performing
Every show was an ordeal for him
The applause rang in his ears like a firing squad
The journeys ate him up, and the train’s rattle rattled the coffin lid
The whole circus was to him like the gates of hell
But the pressure did not make him a diamond
Alan, the strong man, grew wings from the pressure
And flew away.

Fucking Clowns – Professor Falconer’s statement

Fredrick Falconer’s interview on the TV current affairs programme on 12 July 2012 was considered the defining moment of his career, and his statement on the role of dance, stand-up and clowning in the arts was widely quoted. For Falconer himself, the opinion was unclear, as he had forgotten to ask beforehand what his opinion should be.

Fucking Clowns – Erin sings, as in Wilmette

Erin was not in the mood today, the crowd had been inappropriate, drunk young people, a bachelor party, and she hadn’t done her best. She took a step to leave the stage, but heard a voice behind her, ”Eric, sing for me!”
He stopped, and tried to see beyond the spotlight, but saw no one, but the voice was ”Eric, sing for me!”
Erin turned to face the voice man for a moment, and took a few steps towards the edge of the stage, and let her eyes wander around, at the drunken bachelor party, at the laughing young people, and then stopped on a woman she hadn’t noticed before.
She uttered the same phrase she had always uttered in this situation, silently, and sang.
Now you say you’re lonely
You cried the long night through
Well, you can cry me a river, cry me a river
I cried a river over you
Now you say you’re sorry
For being so untrue
Well, you can cry me a river, cry me a river
I cried, cried, cried a river over you…
He sang, as he had sung at Wilmette 35 years ago, to himself, to Momma and only because he loved performing.
She was herself, and refused to be anything small.
And no one threw anything, interrupted, shouted or laughed, this time the fucking clowns kept their mouths shut.