The psychiatrist who ran away and joined the circus

August 26, 2024August 26, 2024JT Twissel 17 Comments

I’ve never been a big fan of circuses. I always have visions of the tightrope walker slipping and falling head first into the path of an elephant who’d been whipped into obedience a wee too many times. Or the clown on meth who flips out and decides to randomly fire into the audience. Only with real bullets and not water balloons. And then there’s the evil ringmaster with his Snidley Whiplash mustache!

Luckily my parents much preferred torturing us on the ski slopes or on rocky, dusty trails into the back country. Bears versus demented clowns, hum, I don’t know. Which one would you prefer?

However, many years ago I visited a friend in Las Vegas who was the “queen of props” for Cirque du Soleil’s Mystere and she was able to wrangle us “very special seats” for the midnight show. Despite my fear of clowns, we just couldn’t pass up very special seats to a Vegas show even if it was a circus. I hadn’t seen Jo for many years and was surprised that my brilliant friend, a person so well read and so knowledgeable in so many fields, would find joy and fulfillment dealing with, as she called them, “childish Russian acrobats with garlic tinged breath.” But she did.

Just before midnight, we slipped through a guarded back door and then rode the freight elevator up, up, up to a room which was basically a glass bird cage suspended from the ceiling. There, a team of technicians monitoring the sound and light equipment greeted us with a list of instructions:

No talking!!!
no sneezing!!!
no coughing!!!
no photos!!!
no eating!!!
no drinking!!!
no recordings!!!
and, don’t dare move from your seats until the break!!!

Our “seats” were actually a bench that faced a wall of windows sloping dangerously forward. Far, far below we could see the stage and the audience as they trickled in to find their seats. To be in that box as the theater went dark and all you could see were the muted lights on the various instrumental panels was … well I couldn’t breathe. It became even more surreal when several acrobats on swings dropped down from the ceiling, their faces so close to the glass we could see them chewing gum!

Then the beating of the giant taiko drums announced the start of the show. The acrobats flipped over backwards and dropped headfirst down towards the audience as search lights highlighted the startled faces in the audience. The acrobats flew over the audience like the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz until this creature appeared.

Alice the Escargot who marks the passage of time

The story line is impossible to follow as act after act explodes upon the stage, each one more daring and mind-blogging than the one before. If you’ve never seen a Cirque du Soleil performance, it’s hard to believe the acrobats, dancers, contortionists and magicians are really human beings. We were bedazzled, shocked and almost dizzy with excitement as we left the magic lightbox and exited into the now quiet casinos of the Treasure Island Resort.

Jo was dying. I think she lasted another year and it was a rough year. But the cast of Cirque du Soleil all signed a giant Get Well card for their “Queen of Props” which she cherished until the end.

And that’s where I got the idea for Flipka, the psychiatrist who ran away and joined the circus.

Seen Unseen #WordlessWednesday

August 21, 2024JT Twissel 29 Comments

For Hugh’s #WordlessWednesday

A description:
Unseen in the branches of a young redwood tree.
Perhaps alone.
Perhaps lonely.
Perhaps a mourning dove.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps
But hoping to be ...
unseen.

Seen,
By the lone lantern,
nearby,
as the sun sets,
and prepares for the hollow moon.

Breakfast with the Beast #FriWFlip

August 16, 2024August 16, 2024JT Twissel 14 Comments

Every Friday I will be posting a snippet from the sequel to Flipka. If you’re interested in following along, welcome! All feedback, be it fair or foul, is welcome.

“Absolutely … Positively … NOT!”
Hyman shrugged and then continued digging into the one meal he allowed himself a day: Breakfast, which always consisted of (if he could be believed) a barely cooked Porterhouse steak, topped with three eggs sunny-side up and washed down with prune juice. We were in the Headliner Room on the top floor of the resort, hardly a cozy spot at seven in morning with the cleaning crew emptying ashtrays and vacuuming the debris from the night before.

“That proves it,” he said between bloody mouthfuls. ‘You’re crazy. I knew it. All shrinks are crazy.”

No wonder he likes to negotiate deals over a steak, I thought. Watching him tear into raw flesh would intimidate the hell out of anyone. “I won’t debate that point but the answer is still no.” I rose to my feet and took one last look around a room generally off-limits to mere mortals. It was smaller than I’d imagined with decadent, red leather booths and high mirrored ceilings. Perfect for intimate concerts. All of the greats played in the Headliner Room, generally to private audiences; audiences consisting of wealthy, powerful people … some had unfathomable fame while others stood in the shadows and quietly controlled Vegas. After a night of schmoozing, they’d left behind a fog of cigar smoke and costly French perfume.

“Sit Doc. You haven’t been excused. I tell you what. I’ll give you a hour to think on it.”

I slowly sat my bottom back into the chair as ordered. “How good of you but I have to catch a flight at three and I still have packages to ship…”
“I’ve already taken care of your packages. Hell, I even ordered you a limo for the airport.”
“I’ll take a cab, thanks. Last time I got into one of your limos I ended up with a new life and I kind of like the one I have now …”

He looked up from his plate. “ I overestimated you, Butters. I didn’t peg you for the kind of broad to go all Tammy Wynette on me. You know show business. Sex sells. That’s just the way it is.”
“Yeah, that’s me. Tammy Wynette. Listen Mr. Hyman, I don’t understand why you can’t produce this atrocity without me. Get another psychiatrist to act as ⏤ what was it? ⏤ technical advisor?”

“You know all that psychological mumbo-jumbo. Besides I wanna to get my hands dirty on this project.” He motioned to his lawyer who’d been sitting by the stage absorbed in a phone call. The man hung up the phone and walked over carrying a thick notebook. “Just sign the contract. You don’t have to read the damn script,” he said as the lawyer dumped the pile in front of me.

“Bullshit. You know if I put my name on some bogus script that it’ll shut me up forever. But, here’s the thing. I wasn’t planning to say anything, really … as long as the girls are okay who cares what really happened? The government sealed those mines and so their secret is … Wait a minute, you haven’t even told me how Meredith is doing.”
His hooded eyes flickered slightly. “She’s in Switzerland at that fancy psychiatric place. You ever been to that country? It’s boring as shit.”
“But is she okay?”

“Listen, you want more money? Because we can get the mother fuckers to up their offer.” He had no idea how his daughter was doing. Nor did he care. Over the past year I’d often wondered about Hyman. Why had he suddenly shown up in Ely on the day that the girls were “rescued?” And why had he footed the bill for all three girls when he hadn’t even tried to get his daughter’s drug conviction overturned? It just didn’t make sense.

He threw a pristine white napkin into the bloody mess he’d made on the table. ”Simmons!,” he bellowed at the lawyer who was standing a foot away. “Make sure you get the signed contract before she leaves the hotel!”

With that, he plowed out of the room.

Next Friday, August 23: What does Sergei know? Character Study: Sergei … at least what little is known about him.

Sticky Wicket #WordlessWednesday

August 14, 2024JT Twissel 15 Comments

What’s it? Something you wouldn’t want to fall into.

For animal lovers only

August 11, 2024JT Twissel 3 Comments

Forever Marked

The Album that Turned Granny On

August 6, 2024JT Twissel 9 Comments

We probably have 500 vinyl record albums stored in a closet in the hall, maybe more. God help our beneficiaries, I don’t think any of them will ever be collector’s items. But you never know…

Okay – fess up. How many of you would give anything to own this rare and priceless record? I have nothing against Julie Andrews but … I’d rather be dipped in butterscotch than listen to her sing Joy to the World.

Now BIng Crosby, I do not like at all. His movies make me cringe. But who knows – perhaps this album is a classic (for Satan worshipers).

I wonder if my mother-in-law (or her husband) bought this album in the Adults Only section of their music store. Naughty, naughty. I’m sure the guy on the left with the huge box of chocolates tucked under his arm is hoping to have a “conversation” with the lady in red. It all depends on you. Yeah, I bet it does!

Oh my, if Perry Como dressed like your grandpa and leaning on an obviously fake fence doesn’t knock your socks off, than what’s wrong with you? I can almost smell the Old Spice. Can you?

On the other hand, these four lads from Liverpool wrote some of the most romantic songs ever recorded. But will my grandchildren be able to get beyond this cover? Doubtful! I can hear them now “Look at the album that turned Granny on! I told you she was strange.”

Dear me – we can’t say weird anymore, now can we?

Fridays with Flipka coming soon …

August 1, 2024August 1, 2024JT Twissel 11 Comments

Back in 2011, sans outline or plot, I typed out the first chapter of something I called “The Prop Queen.” A friend of mine was dying and I was desperate to hold onto to her. Of all the people I’ve ever met … then or since … she is the one who most belongs in a book.

I shared what I had with a friend who was always nice enough to read my garbage and provide an honest assessment. “I have a good feeling about this one” she said which was a shock.

And she was right. A year later I’d scratched out about two hundred pages. Mostly by dredging forth characters from my childhood and having them join in the mayhem. At my sister’s urging, I typed out a synopsis for a hybrid publisher and it was accepted which meant I had to come up with an ending. Booktrope published Flipka in 2013. For some readers my quick and dirty ending worked fine but most felt it needed a sequel. Which God help me, I hope I didn’t promise.

Fridays with Flipka

I still have about five paperback copies of the original Flipka if you become so engrossed that you simply must know what happened! Otherwise, you just might be able to guess!

Ahhhhhh

July 27, 2024JT Twissel 13 Comments

The fog rolls in and the temps drop.

Ah…. goodbye heat wave

At least for a day or two.

Summer Sunrise

July 15, 2024JT Twissel 30 Comments

Like many people, I can no longer watch the news. I used to look forward to the weekly commentaries of Rachel Maddow and Fareed Zakaria but now even they seem stuck on reporting the same inexplicable erosion of sanity.

Our heatwave was broken early Sunday morning by the arrival of sub-tropical clouds. I tried to catch the symphony in the skies above but alas, iPhone cameras are still not up to task (or I really don’t know how to use them which is far more likely.)

Sunrises like this often remind me of the poem which begins a famous though often misused book:

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.
The world was without form and void,
And darkness was upon the face of the deep,
And the Spirit of God was moving over
The face of the waters
And God saw the light was good:
And God separated the light from the darkness
God called the light Day,
And the darkness he called Night.
And there was evening
And there was morning, one day.

When I went to Sunday school we read stories from the Bible about how nice Jesus was, how brave David was, and how the Wise Men followed the star of Bethlehem to visit the baby Jesus who was lying in his crib surrounded by sheep and goats and chicken because Methodist Jesus was like a Disney heroine – all of the animals loved him. Being that it was a protestant church, we didn’t spend too much time on the miracles or the saints. Nor were we ever told we were going to Hell if we had unclean thoughts or doubted anything in the Bible. It was a pleasant hour of hearing stories followed by cookies and juice.

One good thing about the hot spell was this little guy! Generally we get too much fog for tomatoes to ripen properly. I also noticed that our one grapevine is making the effect to produce grapes.

I doubt this one cluster will produce a decent Merlot!

I don’t understand why anyone who’s read through most of the Bible can think it’s an instruction manual for good moral behavior. I don’t understand why they can’t respect it for what it is. But there are too many things I don’t understand. And so I’ll just focus on growing tomatoes.

PS: A while back I wrote about a memorial for a friend who spent the last twenty years of her life battling to save a piece of shoreline from oil refineries and Indian Gaming Casinos. For those who are interested, here is an update on that effort.