Under
the Influence
BY
RAPHAEL HARRIS
The
feeling I get when I leave the stage after a good performance is
unique. It
is a deeply good feeling. I'm charged, electrified, pulsating and
totally satisfied. Keeping hundreds of eyes wide open and feeling them
on nothing but me is most intense. The applause which follows takes
you from the top of the world to outer space. The adrenaline is
surging and the blood is boiling.
My
act consists of 20 to 25 minutes of fast-paced juggling with a bit of
comedy and dance. I progress from prop to prop using more objects or
more difficult and dangerous items as the act continues, usually
ending with torches.
One
day I decided to combine my two favorite activities, juggling and
writing, by trying to harness the creative feeling I get when I first
leave the stage. I had a pen and paper ready in my dressing room,
prepared
to write about whatever came to mind
fiction, non-fiction, science, child care, troop maneuvers, save the
whale, anything. I just hoped that it would be one of my better
performances so that I would be writing in a positive state of mind.
The feeling I get after a poor performance is also an intense one, an
intensely poor one! I still don't know why one show is superb and
another is so-so. I always try my best.
Fortunately,
this particular show was one of my best ever. It boasted an unusually
large audience, a well-lit stage and a dressing room (another rarity -
my dressing room all too often sports a "men's" sign on it).
When
I sat down moments after my final bow I found that all I could think
to write about was myself. I know it sounds conceited, but having a
large audience staring at oneself, knowing the applause is meant for
you, has that effect. Trembling, sweating and wide-eyed, I wrote for
several minutes until I could think normally again. Then I stopped.
The following paragraph
was written under the influence of adrenaline and flood lights...
Well,
I just got off
stage and I'm burning up. My body feels exhilarated, my blood is
racing all over my system at a million miles an hour... I glanced at
the mirror but couldn't bear the sight for more than a moment... My
face is covered with sweat... It is dripping onto the paper... My
nose is sniffly and I don't have a hankey... The show was superb,
not a single drop! Which is almost unheard of... A slight fumble
which I noticed and thought everybody noticed, but they probably
didn't... A perfect ending with my last
torch catch... All I can think of is myself...
I'm living in a world of me, me, ME! I entertained and thrilled an
auditorium full for more than 20 minutes... A one man show...
The music - dynamite! Without it I wouldn't know what to do... I'm starting
to be able to
breathe again and I've stopped shaking,
I'm trying to write over the places where
the sweat dripped. .. I always start the show with clean fingernails
and they always end up dirty... How does that happen? My lower back
pain is gone completely... I feel
great,
like I could conquer the world... Of
course I wouldn't want to hurt anybody... I just want to make people
smile and laugh and gasp and thrill and want to keep their eyes
glued to my show thinking they mustn't blink or they'll miss
something... The lights, the music, the stage, the applause: the
"there's no business like show business," the glamour, the
folks telling you "you're something else." The money for
doing something you love more than anything in the world... The
smiles... The ability to make folks reveal their teeth, the eye
contact, the sweaty clothes, the bag of props, the mystery, the
exposure, the "did I forget anything?" Ears ringing,
posture, smile, meet interesting people, get psyched... Are you
ready? Start! Go,
go,
go! A week's worth of work packed into a 20 minute show... Then wind
down... It's
over... It was superb, superlative; pressure's off. .. Go eat,
drink, walk, do whatever you please... Hand out your card to all the
willing hands... "Yes, I do. Yes I am. Of course I'd be happy
to... Thank you... You're very kind. .. I believe I am free at that
time on that date for that occasion. . . " An occasion of joy,
happiness, mirth, laughter, smiles and thrills... And I'll be there
to make it a success, to make them gasp and sigh, gape and cry,
watch them fly, wedding, party, opening, convention, benefit, all
occasions of joy for you. .. They're there to feel bliss, to clap
and go home satisfied and content, to have something to talk
about, to tell about, to remember forever... Let me straighten my
hair and tuck in my shirt before I go out... Eegad! I'm a mess!
Let's go out and say hello... It's show time again!
That
was it. I could hardly
read my handwriting the next day, but that's show biz. But what was
really interesting is what happened after I left my dressing room.
Usually after a show I'm swamped with people asking me for my business
card, children asking me how I do it, the proprietor trying to pay me,
etc. As I left the dressing room to greet the crowd on this particular
evening, however, I was surprised to find the entire building completely
empty except for myself and an old fellow sweeping up. I had been the
last act and we were running late, so as soon as I got off stage the
management had cleared the building and left. "Where did everybody
go?" I asked the other fellow. "They left" was all he had
to offer. I was lucky I hadn't been locked in. That taught me a lesson.
I almost got to think about me, me,
me all night, night, night!
Raphael
Harris, a.k.a. Sir Juggley, is
founder and proprietor of Sir Juggley's Circus. He is a
freelance editor and has written for numerous publications.
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