My first two years in college, I lived in the dorms. My third year, I lived with my parents. And my senior year, I lived “down the line”, which meant: down by the beach, in a rented house with a bunch of other people.
I found a great situation (I thought) in a massive rambling house, which actually had a name: Breezy Corners. It had a huge yard, it was an old house, there were French doors, a fireplace, etc. The entire set-up ended up becoming a nightmare, and Breezy Corners turned into an unofficial halfway-house for every runaway teenager in the town. I would come home after rehearsal and there would be 10 drunk or stoned runaway high school students taking over the living room.
And Beth’s boyfriend (now husband) Tom was one of my roommates. Which is so funny for me to think of, in retrospect. Breezy Corners was NOTORIOUS. It was a complete nut-house.
Before it all went bad (I moved out after the first term, and found another great house to live in, down the line) – we threw a massive Halloween party.
I cannot count how many people showed up. It was absolutely insane.
My friend Mitchell and I dressed up together: he was Andy Warhol, and I dressed up as silver-haired Edie Sedgwick. We both had on white face makeup, so we looked totally pale and nocturnal, I had on huge fake eyelashes, I had spray-painted my hair silver, and, because Edie was a heroin addict, I put colorful Band-aids up and down my arms.
My brother showed up as “Elvis in Blue Hawaii” – only to be shocked to find out that someone else was also there as “Elvis in Blue Hawaii“. We took a picture of the two of them together, it was hilarious.
My friend Beth came as a clown. Her boyfriend came as Indiana Jones. One of my favorite images of the party was the two of them, in costume, sitting on the couch, talking. As though nothing was off or different about their appearances. Indiana having a serious conversation with this little earnest clown.
Beth had ponytails all over her head, she was wearing a kind of one-suit polka-dot pajama-type thing, and she had a full clown face – white makeup, big red smiling lips, the whole deal.
At one point, as the night raged further and further and out of control, and basically the entire ‘down the line’ community started crashing the party (I knew only about 10 people there, and it was my house) – Beth and I were standing in the kitchen. Drinking beer, talking.
And then, two guys, guys we did not know, knocked a beer over onto the kitchen floor.
And they did not clean it up. They did not even make a move to clean it up. They just glanced down, didn’t care, and kept talking to each other.
Well, this made the clown angry.
She yelled at them. “This isn’t your house! This isn’t your kitchen! You are a GUEST here, and if you spill something – clean it up!” Furious, she grabbed some paper towels, and started to clean up the spill, still bitching out the two boys. “It’s ridiculous. You still need someone to clean up after you? Is that it? It’s not. your. house. If you spill something – CLEAN IT UP.”
By the time she finished with them, they were cowering in fear.
It was only later that it occurred to us: Beth was a clown. She was a clown. She had a big shiny clown smile, but she was standing there, reading these guys their rights.
We are still laughing about this today. We imagined the two guys who had made the spill kind of skulking away, and then later, when someone asked them how the party was, they would say, vaguely, a bit uneasy, “Oh … it was okay … until we got bitched out by an angry clown.”
Clowns are scary.
I had a clown picture in my room when I was a toddler, and I always had nightmares about it. Not for me monsters under the bed or in the closet – my horror was the clown who was about to climb off the wall.
One of my college friends was even more scared of clowns – she refused to go to circuses, or to costume parties with people dressed as clowns.
A clown – smiley face or sad face or white-face – is one of those liminal figures, neither human nor completely other, outside of the normal rules of society. A clown is chaotic, and a good clown makes you look at your inner demons – and then laugh at them.
_Spangle_, Jennings’ historical novel about circuses, has some wonderful clown stories; it is a mediocre novel full of wonderful anecdotes.
Ted K.
That is an awesome Beth story! I didn’t get to that house very much while you lived there, but didn’t we watch a presidential election in the living room? Reagan’s second win perhaps?
Betsy –
I remember all of us sitting at the dining room table, playing … Monopoly? Trivial Pursuit?
And maybe you are right. Let’s see … I lived there in the fall of 1988. So yes – Reagan was elected for the second time then.
And Ted –
You’re so right when you say “a clown is chaotic”. I was never wacky about clowns myself. Although clowns do not bring up the same RAGE in me that mimes do. I may be afraid of clowns, but I HATE mimes.
Beth yelling at the guys in the kitchen was definitely a chaotic clown.
I remember an exchange from Newhart. Peter Scolari’s character (Michael, was it?) was getting into mime after being dumped by Julia Duffy, and he said “Remember, Dick, everybody loves a mime.”
Dick Loudon’s reply: “No, everybody loves a clown. They try to run over mimes.”
I really should do some work today, but your multiplying power prevents me…. ;-)
Pat McCurdy says it best:
“Clowns …. make me nervous.”
Ann Marie
Very funny story, red.
I’m with you on the mimes.
That’s a great quote from Newhart, Ken. I’m not sure if I saw that episode, but I can definitely hear Bob saying those words.
Ann –
I suppose we must take that with a grain of salt because “F. Murray Abraham” is also on that list.
God, that’s hysterical.
Is there a soul alive, outside of mimes, that doesn’t have pure hatred for mimes?
Oh, I needed a good laugh today! Just got home school ( I have a 5th grade group of “Sweathogs”. Poor babies- but that is another post..) The funny thing about that clown costume is that I HATE clowns. I only wore the costume, because every one of the four girls in my family had worn it since we were kids. When we were in grammar school, it fit over our snowsuits on cold New England Halloween nights. We all wore it. So, flash forward to college, add to the fact that I am only 5’2″, and the costume was still good to go! The next year I was the tooth fairy, in an old poofy 80’s prom dress. (My Jr. prom, by the way). I vaguely remember being totally WASTED and crying about the “Cavity Creeps”.
Beth –
HAHAHAHAHA
Oh and Beth – how did it go today with the Sweat Hogs??
I’ll send you a more detailed personal message tomorrow- but suffice it to say, I love that class. We have a long way to go, but we’ll do ok. They are such babies, in a sweet way, though, you know? Just fragile, damaged little souls.
HEY I WAS JUST WONDERING WHAT YOU THINK IS SO SCARY ABOUT THIS