“Panem et circenses. Bread and circuses. How the Romans kept the people passive. We’re addicted.” – Lobster, the Clown
As we did in “Monkey Gods,” Peter Saputo and I begin “Under the Big Top” mid-conversation at our usual table. It’s such a useful device, that table, so comfortable, so unobtrusive.
Peter wears a clown shirt and collar which neither of us acknowledge during a three-part conversation that touches on politics, ufology, Honey Boo Boo and other topics of national interest. His character emerges as a kind of messenger. Mine doesn’t touch his coffee.
The Dream Logic moniker, repurposed from previous dream videos, seems a good fit for these pieces, partly because it relieves me of any sense of obligation to make sense.
Download the non-interactive layout here.
- Sometimes when she sleeps, which is what she does mostly, she cradles her head in the crooks of her paws. It looks like she’s dreaming about something that’s gone terribly wrong.
Acadia T. Katz
- She yells at me when she wants to play fetch and then, when she’s tired of playing, sits on the ball so I can’t get at it.
- She loves the faucet and hates the vacuum cleaner. Turn on the faucet, she appears. Turn on the vacuum, she disappears. It’s magic.
- Though leash trained, she almost never walks anywhere in a straight line.
- When the madness is upon her, she tries to kill me. Then, after I’m dead, she falls asleep curled up beside me in the reading chair.
- She stares unblinkingly into my eyes. Sometimes for so long that I’m forced to look away.
- Her own eyes change color.
- She’s a good driving companion.
- When we have shrimp for dinner, she does a celebratory dance.
- She has a head voice, a chest voice and a tribble voice. The chest voice is for emergencies. It’s frightening.
- She’s tidy in her person and never knocks anything over by accident. She does, however, push things over ledges intentionally. Then she looks at me as if to say, “That. Was. Amazing.“
Video: Acadia just hanging out
Now queued for publication, a bad driving rant. Working title “Dumb Ass”. And, by sheerest coincidence, followed in the studio three days later by another rant, one that focuses on bad cycling. Working title “Monkey Gods”. Based on a January blog post.
The Dumb Ass piece was an opportunity to unroll my little-used chromakey drop and rocket a man down the highway at 150 miles per hour. Backward. The monkey piece (magazine embed layout here) was an opportunity to build a tightly edited, properly lit, two-person conversation that doesn’t involve me talking to myself about me. More to come in that same vein. Other topics, other collaborators. Same restaurant table.
Both rants are running in the June issue of fête and June, as you are no doubt aware, is National Safety Month. Or should that be National Insurance Industry Loss Prevention Month? Twin sons of different mothers, wouldn’t you say?