Clara the Clown

When Clara was discovered by a modeling agent as a teenager, she was ready to get out of her tiny town and do something glamorous . The agent was in his twenties and flattered. her.  Her mother thought it might be a scam but, it turned out to be okay except stray hands were a workplace hazard.. 

When she finally followed her true passion and went to clown collage, she was ready for something new. Her face was happier too because she now wore less make-up. 


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Letter to a dear artist

Hello cariño,

I hope this letter finds you well. As you know, I can’t help worrying about you, regardless, of how much faith I have in your ability to always land on your feet. Kitty Caster,  who DOESN’T always land on his feet, is telling me how much he would appreciate it if I respected a reasonable bedtime. But like you have told me, being sensible and reasonable didn’t always work for me so, here we are.

I suppose that I should tell you what has been happening lately. I will put some of the things that I want to tell you about in a list. You can always ask for more details on things that I don’t explain here but, most should be pretty self explanatory.

Things I have thought about recently:

  1. I want to get my septum pierced. Yes, I know that people will say that I am “too old” to be getting new facial piercings.  I also know that bulls have their noses pierced but, that brings me to my second point…

  2. The idea for my finger tattoos has come to me as clear as a bell. I will need to draw some reference pictures. I am very excited.

  3. It seems like some funding for this soul-seeking sabbatical seems to be on the horizon. Please knock on every piece of wood near you because, while not prone to being superstitious, I am jinx averse.

  4. Just my general feeling of being overwhelmed with choice continues to overcome me.But, the most important thing is that I actually left the house today. I met a friend. I had a glass of wine and I put my toes in the rain. The walk home was so nice The breeze was cool and my sleeveless dress was just enough clothes. The 20 minute walk from Benita's house smelled like pine. The moon had not a cloud to hide it tonight, unlike last night.

If I haven’t told you before, thank you for all of the advice and support. Just knowing that you are there makes my daily stressors seem minimal and overcomable. When I don’t believe in myself, I believe in you.

With all the love imaginable,



"Oh,  please, go on. Tell me more about the new procedure that is going to add to all the other work I can't finish. No, of course, I don't mind that you will have to pass, again, on my most recent proposal to improve working conditions for everyone. Thank you for making me wait on the interminable chain of command to receive an answer that someone else will do six months. Of course, it doesn't bother me that people get huffy when I take initiative...."

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But no. I'm not bitter.

No, really I'm not. You helped me.

You helped me realize that I was finally more angry than scared. Anger was always one of my weaknesses. 

I have time to work on it now though. Along with some others. 

I will accept my grey hair though. For now.