All right, so Chapter one.
"Balloon tying for Christ was the cheapest balloon manual
I could find.
The day I bought it, it was hidden
on the lowest rung of a dusty spinner rack down at Calhoun's
Novelties, snuggled alongside shopworn, how-to guides,
Travel Europe by Clown Circuit, Rubber Vomit Skits
For Beginners, and Latex-- the Beauty of Cuts, Bruises Scars
and Contusions.
Want to tie the Virgin Mary?
Start with a light blue balloon.
For Jesus, use Easter green.
There are tips on tying a crucifix, a lamb, even a Sacred
Heart in two sizes, big or small.
Ooh la la.
These tricks are simple but smart.
The grand finale is the Pieta Mary
with a grown Jesus sprawled across her lap
in a four balloon extravaganza, like a tangled link of sausages
or a Japanese bondage trick.
The Pieta or bondage, sacred and profane.
In balloon art, the two are that close together-- one
thin twist.
I studied all 20 pages of the flimsy, hand-stapled booklet.
And so, ta-da!
By the chance of cheap pricing, I'd
come to specialize in religious tricks, clown iconography,
and chicanery extraordinaire.
Most people, though, looked at my balloon art,
and saw what they wanted to see, instead.
It was interpretive art, abstract and expressionistic.
The big plan--
I had one.
Someday, I'd be able to tie all the great works of art,
starting with da Vinci's Madonna of the Rocks,
complete with baby Jesus, John the Baptist,
and a little balloon-twisted angel,
clustered together on a rocky perch.
Already I'd invented my own version
of the Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo's image of God
giving breath to Adam.
Two balloons linked form their famous outstretched fingers.
Saturday afternoon, in the thick of a street crowd,
I tied a crown of thorns and handed the crown
to a tiny girl in a fake leopard sundress.
She put the crown on her head as a tiara.
'Lovely, lovely,' the girl's mother murmured,
and tapped the crown with one jeweled hand.
Pure princess in a crown meant for a martyr.
And the mother pulled her tiny daughter
away from the spill of day care overflow, five-year-olds out
to celebrate the King's Row street fair.
The pack surged forward.
My makeup was sweating off and my feet
hit flat and hard against the cement
in cheap, oversized shoes.
The summer sun was hotter than I'd ever welcome in the city,
even on a Saturday.
Unused balloons clumped together in the hothouse
of my pink vinyl shoulder bag, alongside juggling
balls, a sleek silver gun, and the gentle rub of a rubber
chicken.
I pulled out a handful of balloons like gum spaghetti.
'It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle
than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.'
That's the biblical quote.
But in the world of balloon art, the old camel
through the eye of a needle trick is easier than it sounds.
Start with one balloon, under-inflated.
Make the camel really small, twist a long balloon
around the camel's back--
that's the needle-- and cinch it like a girdle.
So I passed the camel and the needle
to the dirty fist of the highest bidder--
an anonymous reaching hand with a $5 tip crushed in it.
Bingo!
A five-year-old with a five spot was rich enough
for the temporary kingdom of balloon heaven on Earth.
I shoved the cash in the sleeve of my striped shirt
and pulled out another balloon.
Once balloon tying starts, you can't get away.
There's always a river of kids.
I was hired as a roving clown, but no way could I rove.
Kids had me corralled, pushed to the side of the Do
Your Own Ceramics place, what used
to be the wishy-washy laundry with all-day breakfast
and off-track betting.
Next door was the Pawn and Preen, our little local hock
shop salon, but the P&P had been turned
into a dog biscuit bakery, and for this King's
Row, celebrated--"
Anyway, I'll stop there, but that's the beginning.
[APPLAUSE]
Thanks.