My Journey

From mind to paper and back again.

Activity 8.7

on November 29, 2008

A Stream of Consciousness

‘Stupid landlord with his big words and false smile. False. Like this one I’m painting on my face now. It hides all my miseries, keeps them away from the audience who mustn’t see. I’m happy to them, a diversion from their everyday mundane lives and routines but this is my routine, all an act. Nothing more. I’m not always happy, this mask just makes me look that way. The white covering like the pureness of those kids souls – they don’t know what misery befalls me do they? They don’t care. No. Blissfully unaware that I’ve got nowhere to sleep tonight after this godforsaken show, but them, they have their nice warm beds with a roof over their heads. Smile, yes, paint it on. It’s as fake as the squirty flower on my chest anyway, but it’s part of the outfit like the honking nose. Got to have it to be a clown. He didn’t like clowns, my old landlord, said they ‘freaked him out’, I bet he was one of them kids that used to go running scared from clowns back to his mummy and daddy and had nightmares about it for weeks afterwards. What a baby. And all my stuff – he’s not keeping it. Even if I have to put it in storage. It’s mine to keep and it’s mine to show – just like this false smile I wear every night.’

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