There are days I can't figure out why I do this crazy thing for a living. It doesn't pay all that well, most everyone I knew from high school or college or even the circus days, makes way more money than me.
There are days I just think I'm pretty self indulgent. I'm a middle aged man that dresses up for a living, I get upset at things like my whoopie cushion having a hole, so it doesn't work right. Or the price of balloons went up, or I would really like to grow a mustache but I can't because it would look weird under my make up.
I have no real choice in the matter when it comes down to it. My life's motivation is about performing. I imagine having lots of money...so that I could have a better show and a really goofy car to show up to events in. All lots of money would do for me would ease money tension but as much as I tie together my performing and what I charge, I would do it for free.
I bristle at being called an artist. I just do what I do. Artists are really cool, they change the world with beauty. I can't be an artist...I just do what I do.
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