The frustration of message boards

Ok, so I post something educational, enlightening and humorous in response to a question on a message board - I mean, you know it's the definitive answer because, well, it's me, right? Then I go back later and there are 17 responses after mine. A number of the responses mimic exactly what I've said, adding nothing, or say, "Me too!" A few say, "No way!," but provide no further information. Several point out spelling mistakes to some of the responses following my response. And at least one is a non sequitur that says something like, "But what about camera edits?," when the question asked about good books on mentalism.

Even if I gave the Rosetta Stone of answers to the poor git's question it'd be lost in the noise. But at least this blog's link would still show up in my signature, which was the whole point anyway.

A little less wise

I'd been feeling slightly out of sorts lately. And that's bad - I need all the sorts I can get. Until yesterday it had been sort of an indeterminate out of sorts. Yesterday it crystallized. I had teeth problems. Or, more specifically, I was pretty sure I had a tooth problem. Wisdom, that is.

I've never had a cavity. Not one. Zip. Nada. Zero. So in general dentist visits don't bother me. However, specifically I hate pain. So that was Problem One. Problem Two was that I figured out that this was a tooth issue on Friday. Late. And by then I was in fairly significant pain. My regular dentist isn't open at all on Friday, and not too many are open after 6 pm. So my wife and I did the reasonable thing: we started calling random dentists from the phone book.

Wonder of wonders, we found one who performed emergency services. They mentioned they don't take checks, only cash or credit cards. And they weren't on any insurance plans. However, we were pretty desperate at that point (did I mention the hating pain thing?) so we set up an appointment for 7:45.

When we got there they had me fill out the requisite forms, I handed them my medication list, which I had the foresight to print out (it reads like a short novel, what with the medical mess I am), then they took an x-ray. Impacted Wisdom tooth. "Surrounded by a bony mass." Hmmmm.

They used a local anesthetic, and said they could do it with or without nitrous oxide. You guess which route the coward took. (Did I mention the pain, and the hating?) Originally the doc said this would be a quick and easy procedure. However, our good friend Mr. Bony Mass proved to be quite the obstacle. 90 minutes and many implements later (I'll have nightmares about some of those...) it finally came out - in pieces. I'll admit the procedure didn't hurt at the time, even though they pried my jaws open wider than anything I've seen since a National Geographic special where a python swallowed a rabbit, and used tools that, I'm sure, were developed to extract information from enemy agents rather than teeth.

Once the anesthetic wore off things got interesting, and not in a good way (you know, the pain, and the hate?). Even the hydrocodone they prescibed didn't dent it much.

Things are much better today. They stitched most of the hole closed, so there is little chance of a dry socket. The pain is significantly diminished, and I still have my good friend hydrocodone, along with some steroidal anti-inflammatories, to help.

Now I just need to find the rest of my sorts.

Now there's an idea

I really need to start a notebook. I get spectacular ideas (well, in my estimation...) and then either don't write them down or write them down on a napkin and lose the napkin.

I know what the first entry in my notebook would be. I have a line I've wanted to work into a routine for a long time but have never found the right spot. Some day I'll forget the line. Here's that brilliant line I'm afraid of losing:

"How do I accomplish my miracles? Through a rare combination of Eastern mysticism and Western store-bought magic props."

OK, now that you're done rolling in the aisles... I know it may not be comedic gold to you, but it's a line that I think could really work for me - in the right routine, delivered the right way. And if I forget the damn thing it'll never happen.

If I just start that silly notebook, I'll have at least one entry, and my line will be safe.

At least until I lose the notebook...

Andy Mckee - Drifting - Acoustic Guitar - www.candyrat.com

Andy Mckee - Drifting - Acoustic Guitar - www.candyrat.com

Something I thought you'd enjoy.

Finding my voice

I was driving home yesterday listening to a Steve Forbert CD. "Romeo's Tune" (a song I love and that he dedicated to the memory of Florence Ballard, late of The Supremes) came on. I started singing with it. I do a pretty dead-on imitation of Mr. Forbert on that particular song. A friend once commented on how eerily I capture his sound.

Similarly, I do a pretty decent imitation of Elton John on "Candle in the Wind" - the one from the Live in Australia album, not the one from Goodbye Yellow Brick Road; I find the former has more emotion than the latter.

Even if a song is not in my key or my range I can transpose and still sound at least a little like the artist. For example, I tend to sing harmony rather than lead on early Beach Boys songs.

When do I sound the worst? When I'm singing 'cold,' without a recorded reference. In other words, I can sing like other people, but I can't really sing like me.

I think this is because I learned to sing from the radio and from records. My goal was to sound like the artists I was hearing. If I were serious about learning to sing I'd hire a teacher, learn to read music, and learn to sing like me.

What's the word?

It was session night with a friend, so we met at the usual place. (In truth, I'm not sure he's still a friend. I performed the cardinal sin of magic - I offered my honest opinion about something he was involved in. Haven't heard from him since.) Anyway, he brought along another guy, a relative newbie to the art of magic. After some general conversation the guy made a strange request:

"Show me a sleight."

Keep in mind I'd never seen him perform, didn't really know his interests or skill level, and even if I did it would be an odd request. Kinda like meeting a piano player and asking him/her to play a note for you!

I wish I could say the guy asked this because he was relatively new to magic. But stranger things have come out of the mouths of experienced magicians. I have heard (and been asked) this question more than once: "What's the best palm?" Now let's assume for the sake of a family audience that we're talking about cards - it's still way too open a question. Here is a partial list of the things you need to take into consideration before deciding which method to use to palm a single card:

Are the cards starting out face up or face down? Will the card need to end up with its face against your palm or with its back against your palm? Will it be held out for a very short time or for an extended period? What will happen to the palmed card - put back on the deck, loaded into a wallet, slid into a spectator's pocket? How many people present - one, five, two hundred? How big are your hands? What happens just before you want to palm the card? What palming methods are in your repertoire? etc., etc., etc.

It's a bit like being in the middle of a conversation and having someone say, in no particular context, "Give me a word." Well, I think the best word at that point would be, "huh?" In other words, context is everything.

Want a word? OK, the word for today is "lagniappe."
Want the best palm? It's the one that serves your purposes at the time.

Waiter, there's a man in my soup!

Once upon a time my wife's car died so she drove me to work in my car. My work has a security gate that requires a badge to enter after 5:00 p.m. There were several problems with that, especially that particular day:
1. I get off at 6:00 p.m., and
2. I had my badge, which I needed to get around the building, so
3. my wife stopped outside the security gate, which is 150 feet or so from the building proper (remember my bad knee) and
4. it picked that day, at that time, to rain like hell. I was soaked when I got to the car.

We decided to go out to eat. My first stop was to the restroom to towel off as best I could (read: I was still sopping wet).

The restaurant had a strolling magician. The food was good. The magician was not. I'm not even particularly talking about his tricks. I just cringed at how he approached the table and how he treated the patrons. Some examples:

• He carried a large wooden case with a drawer that contained his props. When he approached the table he touched peoples plates (with food on them) to move them to accommodate his case. Don't do that.
  
• He then asked people to shift their chairs around and pay attention to him rather than their food. Don't do that.
  
• He started his routine by saying, "We're going to play a game, and you can't win." Don't do that.
  
• He then did an incredibly long routine while the people were trying to eat. Don't do that.
  
• He invoked religion in the middle of the routine without gauging his audience. Don't do that.
  
• He performed for more than twenty minutes at the one table. Don't do that. (I could tell they wanted him to leave, and other tables wanted him to perform for them. He was oblivious.)
  

The sad thing is that I'm sure if I asked the guy he'd say he had a very successful performance. After all, he stayed at the table for twenty minutes, right? And that gave him one more notch in his belt - one more "successful" performance.

I was discussing magic with a friend one time, and the various skill levels among people despite the fact that some had been in magic a very long time. He then said something that stuck with me, and that I think of when I see someone like our strolling clueless wonder (worker). He said, and I'm paraphrasing, that some people have thirty years of experience in magic and some people have one year of experience thirty times.

I once did restaurant magic for a living (for a very short time). I was very hesitant to approach a table. People were there to eat - I was a surprise, and, contrary to most magicians' beliefs, not everyone likes surprises, and not everyone likes magic. I tried to be in tune with my audience, and if they weren't up for what I was doing I would cut it short and thank them for their time. I also tried to work from my pockets, and I seldom set anything on the table. I never touched plates or utensils that were still in use. That just struck me as wrong. Still does. If food came I wrapped up and moved on unless I was specifically requested to stay. In that same vein, I kept my routines short, and the few routines that ran a bit long were modular so I had several stopping points in case I needed one.

If I were to do restaurant work again I think I'd have table tents printed (or talk the restaurant into having them printed) that say something like, "Place this card near the end of your table if you'd like to see the magician." Something like that would be relatively cheap at your local Kinko's, and it'd serve a dual purpose: it would inform the patrons that a magician was on premises, and it would give them a method to signal said magician and let him/her know they were up for a performance. Then you could approach a table and know you weren't interrupting.

Do that.

*************

Since writing this I've been informed that several performaers have used the table tent idea. I've heard the names Don Alan, Scott Guinn, and Eugene Burger, among others, mentioned. Great minds...

My other passion

Other than magic, another passion of mine is music. I grew up in a musical household. I love music of all kinds, from classical to rock to jazz to folk to blues to rap to electronica to alt country to stuff I really can't classify.

To my chagrin I don't play an instrument. My mom and her mom both played piano and organ. Some day I may learn. I tried learning harmonica once upon a time but my cat would have none of it - he howled and tried to rip the harp from my hands. Damn music critics.

In light of my love of music, I thought I'd introduce any readers I may have (hello? HELLO?) to a music site a co-worker shared with me: http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/. Wonderful alternative music (whatever that is these days...alternative to what?) and free downloads.

Enjoy.

Primate motivate

I don't know where he first heard the phrase, but I'm sure it's not original with him. We were watching a young magician who (so far) had learned all his magic via video. He apparently knew no complete effects, but he could shuttle pass, Sybil cut, and Sylvester Pitch with the best of them. BS Andrews turned to me and said two words:

"Move monkey."

Perfect. Those two words said it all.

I still chuckle when I think about that moment.

"Move monkey."

Mothers, tell your children

A story about one of my weirder gigs:

A friend from work knew I was a magician. He also knew some folks who were getting married and were looking for entertainers for their reception. He asked me to come down for an audition. I agreed.

I showed up at the audition. A number of other people were there. The couple getting married were Vietnamese; I was the only Westerner present. I did my bit, they liked it, I got booked and I hung around. The band (two people; a guitarist/singer and a guy with a keyboard with a number of sampled sounds) was jamming and various people would grab the mike. They came to a song I knew so I figured what the heck.

I'm a pretty good singer. I'm not as good as most professionals but better than your average karaoke singer. When I was done the room erupted! They asked me if I would sing at the wedding as well as do magic. They wanted me to do the song I had just performed. I tried to argue but they would have none of it.

I wasn't arguing out of false modesty. I was arguing over song choice. The song I had arbitrarily grabbed the mike for on that fateful audition? "House of the Rising Sun." That's right, the song I sang at a Vietnamese wedding reception was an American blues number about a boy whose life was ruined because he visited a house of prostitution.

In retrospect, a perfect wedding song.

A night on the town

Yeah, I'm ready, baby! Ready for a night on the town. I've got my derby, my vest, my rainbow suspenders, my "I'm a Magician!" button and my bunny button with the flashing eyes. My rainbow silk shirt is clean and my dice cufflinks are ready to go.

My pockets are loaded:
two thumb tips, sponge balls, sponge bunnies, sponge ding-dong, hot rod, color changing knife, two thimbles, eight pieces of rope prepared for cut 'n restored, one pair of scissors (ooh, better move those a little...), breakaway wand, mini set of linking rings, a Kiss the Magician packet trick (strangers love to do that, ya know!), and fifteen assorted trick decks.

I know all the gags:
"Show me your hand... no, the clean hand.... oh, I guess that was your clean hand."
"Show the card to all your friends... that shouldn't take too long!"
"Hey guys, this ever happen to you?" (Show breakaway wand "wilting.")

Man, Taco Bell will never know what hit 'em!

******************************************

Disclaimer
This is obviously fiction, because:
A. nobody knows anybody who really acts like this, and
B. the batteries on my bunny button are dead.

Resolutions

It's that time. I could do the standard peace on earth, good will toward all, cure all disease, yada yada, blah, blah, blah, but hey, this is a magic blog. Check out my liberal wimp blog for that other stuff.

So what to resolve? The items below are just suggestions.
If you want, print it, cut on dotted line, fill in the appropriate blank and stick it (on your refrigerator, that is).

-------------------------------------------------------

I, _____________________ hereby resolve to

• practice my Tenyo tricks at least once before showing them in public
  
• read at least one of the books in my library
  
• wait at least a week before buying the trick I just saw Blaine do on tv
  
• change at least a couple of the words of patter of the trick I just saw Blaine do on tv
  
• work on sounding sincere when I say, "Interesting use of that principle," when a fellow magi just fried my brain
  
• try to keep name-dropping to a minimum (for example, I would have to have seen Max Maven from a distance at a minimum of two conventions before saying I know him)
  
• know at least a sloppy French drop before calling myself a coin worker
  
• have at least a letter to the editor published in a minor magic magazine before calling myself a published author
  
• cut my spending on magic props from half my income to a third
  
• redo my business cards to add mentalism and bizarre magic to my list of specialties which already includes stage shows, parlor shows, close-up, kids shows, adult shows, trade shows, hospitality suites, grand openings, birthday parties, bar mitzvahs, bat mitzvahs, weddings and funerals
  
• get bigger business cards
  
• upgrade my publicity photo (note to self: make appointment with Glamour Shots; bring bunny and card fans)
  
• get rid of cheesy purple velour tux - find classy blue velour
  
• find yet another prop like that sponge ding-dong (that thing kills!)
  
• write Jim (zazenmagic-blog@yahoo.com) and tell him what a cool blog he has
  

That's all I can think of at 7:22 a.m. after a Diet Coke hangover. Feel free to add to the list.

Oh, and have a safe, happy and magical 2007.

Performing for magicians

I frequently hear magicians complain they don't like to perform for other magicians. They're worried that the technical aspects won't be up to snuff, or that "everyone has seen it before." They then rush through the trick, skipping the presentation and just showing the mechanics. There are a couple of things wrong with this attitude.

First, if you're worried about your technique for magicians but not for lay people, you're shortchanging your lay audiences. If you're worried about your technique at all you shouldn't be performing the piece, period. Lay audiences notice more than we know. (Note: this doesn't mean you shouldn't show the piece to people with the express purpose of improving it. This just better be prior to it being a 'performance piece.')

Second, in my experience most magical gatherings are composed mostly of magic fans, not really magicians. They are there to see good magic.

Third, by rushing through or eliminating the presentation, you are eliminating the one piece of the construct they're guaranteed never to have seen before: your unique point of view.

When I think back to the magical performances I've really enjoyed, they've all been the ones that were fully fleshed out, from Jeff McBride's mask routine to Bill Malone's "Sam the Bellhop" to local performer John Jolley's cut and restored rope routine.

When you perform for magicians, treat them like a lay audience and give them the best show you possibly can.

Instant Stooge

If you ever need assistance amazing anyone, ask me to name a card. I'll always say the four of hearts.

Why, you ask?

Well, I'm a Warren Zevon fan. And the four of hearts is mentioned in the remarkable story in the link I just provided.

The author and the subject of the article are both deceased, and I'm not feeling so hot myself.

Theory and Action

I used to have long discussions on magical theory with a friend. We would talk about word usage, effect selection, performance persona, attitude, body language, whatever. He then took off to parts unknown (well, Malone's bar) to try his hand at being a professional magician. We've (sort of) kept in contact, and in one of his emails he seemed to discount those theoretical discussions as being of limited value. I'm hoping this is due to his enthusiasm for the current 'hands-on' nature of his position and not a permanent philosophy change.

Performing magic without (constantly evolving) theory is just spinning your wheels. Changes in your act, if any, will be random and as likely to make it worse as better. Conversely, theory without constant testing under fire is just posturing. Magic is not an exact science. I've seen too many people make too many mistakes because their theories (if any) are cast in stone and are not revised by real world trial.

I know there are exceptions. Don Alan was an incredible performer who apparently had no time for theoretical discussions. And if you read Mind, Myth and Magic chronologically you can see T.A. Waters' evolution as a theatrical thinker even though he was pretty much purely a theoretician and not a performer. Most of us aren't these kinds of exceptional people and should probably use all of the tools at our disposal.

The theory can start from a number of sources (books like Leading With Your Head by Gary Kurtz, web sites like this, discussions with friends), but should always be refined by testing in performance. This doesn't have to be professional performance. Just about every Sunday my wife and I go to Buffalo Wild Wings. The wait staff knows I do magic. My wife goes fabric shopping across the street and I always have something ready to perform. I won't do so unless asked because this is their job and I don't want to jeopardize it, but it's rare someone doesn't ask to see something. These mini-performances give me a chance to test new material and refine my theory. In turn, refining my theory has helped make my performances better.

So hey, don't knock the theoretical side of things. And if you want to be a performer, perform as often as you can, then analyze those performances against what you know. This is one way to improve your magic.

In theory.

Tales of Mystery and Imagination

You may know Lance Pierce as the author of Roger Klause in Concert or The Award-Winning Magic of John Cornelius, or his own World-Famous Bowl Routine, or perhaps from his entertaining and educational posts on The Magic Cafe and the Genii forum. I know him as a friend.

I strive to be a good magician, writer and person. In all these areas Lance sets a mark I may never achieve but am happy to try. The poem below is Lance's and it is wicked funny. I'm reprinting it here with his permission.

Without further ado, I present Lance Pierce's take on Edgar Allan Poe. Enjoy.

Quoth the Maven . . .

Once upon a session dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary
Over many a packet trick
With stories, poems, and more
While I plodded, nearly snapping,
Suddenly, I thought of lapping
Would this catch the audience napping?
I propelled them to the floor
'Tween my knees with naught a breeze
They softly hit the floor
Lain dormant evermore

Ah, distinctly I recall, in Xeroxed lecture notes I saw
This artful, dartful stratagem
Method wise and more
A Goldstein treasure sure to pleasure
Most amazing by any measure
But could I shape it to my leisure
To meet my skill so poor?
To bring the handling further ease
and meet my skill so poor?
Quoth the Maven, "Nevermore."

Standing sudden, quite uncertain, I looked around me, behind the curtain,
Underneath the table, and peered around the door
As I thought, I was alone
But little had my small faith grown
Could I whittle his masterpiece
But still retain the core?To rid the work of each half-pass
Each triple lift and more
For that rare and radiant packet trick
With the Goldstein touch of lore?
Quoth the Maven, "Nevermore."

"Sir!" said I, "or Max, please consider all the facts
When I express my admiration,
Your forgiveness I implore.
But your wonderful trick, a neo-classic
Is to me a touch Jurassic
But I have a thought that Copperfield would pay a million for
And give us both the fame and fortuneWe both are yearning for . . ."
Quoth again the Maven,"Nevermore."

Not to be so soon defeated, I took my chair and quickly seated
I counted, flipped, and KM-moved in many ways and more
Vainly I worked into the morrow
When finally fatigued with sorrow
I sought to lift my head and borrow
Illumination as before
"Mr. Goldstein, I beseech you
Knowing not if I can reach you
Knowing I have naught to teach you
I beg of you and more,
Please lend some inspiration to my vain infatuation
Before I lose my will to continue."
Came the stony voice, as before:
Quoth the Maven, "Nevermore."

And so I sat, tattered, beaten
Borne of suffering, soul half-eaten
Knowing that I would never be the magician as before
Meddling with an art perfected
The dissector is himself dissected
No more cards would be selected
I moved slowly through the door"
Perhaps a second deal," I thought,
As I hobbled through the door...
Quoth the Maven,

"Nevermore."

-- Lance Pierce

Investment

Back when my bum knee wasn't such a bum I also juggled. One day at the juggling club I ran into a guy who used to be a magician. I asked him why he got out of it. He said he was disappointed that anyone could walk in to a magic shop, buy the props he was using, and essentially do the same act. With juggling he knew he could do something someone off the street couldn't do.

Unfortunately what he said about magic is true for far too many of us. Anyone could buy our props and do our act. Magic has what at first looks like a feature but often is a liability; it has an inherent interest. Even incompetent magic can fool and, barring that, there is always the fun in busting the magician. Juggling, after the first few minutes, doesn't carry such inherent interest.

Why is this a liability, you ask? It means the performer isn't required to invest as much of himself to get a nominally positive response. Buy a dove pan, produce a bunny, get a few "ooh"s and "ahh"s. Instant magical gratification. One can (and many have) earn enough spare change to call one's self "professional" without doing much more than that.

Why are magicians and not jugglers fictionally portrayed as incompetents? Because the jugglers that make it do so based on their act and the work they put in and not on how their props look or work. (That being said, I want to acknowledge some jugglers who have raised the level of their art. Michael Moschen. Viktor Kee. Viva and Olga. And I really want to pass on a personal debt of gratitude to the now-defunct trio Airjazz, for their kindness, professionalism and artistic vision.)

So what does this mean to you, O Worker of Wonders? It means you need to make an extra effort to insert yourself into your magic. Be brave. Open yourself up and let the audience see who you are. Have an opinion, and state it. Make an emotional investment in your art. There is a quote I've always loved regarding how easy it is to be a writer. I've reproduced it below. Make a couple of changes (most acts, for example, don't use a typewriter) and it applies to the ease of being a magician.

There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a
vein. ~Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith

Improving it worse

"He improved it worse." [Al Baker]

The effect known as "botania" used to be a thing of beauty: vines would spring forth from a previously empty pot, then roses would sprout on the vines. Real roses. Then someone decided it would last longer if the roses were made of cloth. Someone else decided the effect could be made more cheaply by covering the pot between each phase, lifting the cover to reveal the results. And so on and so on, ad nauseum. It is no longer a thing of beauty.

Once upon a time I set out to learn the Paul Rosini impromptu thimble routine from The Dai Vernon Book of Magic (now how is "Dai" pronounced again?). I had trouble getting that fifth thimble to cooperate, so I did the effect with four. I figured people who had never seen the effect wouldn't know the difference. The guy who suggested I learn it was seriously unhappy. I got mad at him at the time but he was right.

Don't take shortcuts in your magic. Don't "improve it worse." Take time to work out all the details, and don't succumb to the temptation to cut corners. Our art is worthy of our respect and attention.

By the way, I handle that fifth thimble like a charm now.

Thought for the day

"Success and sacrifice go together. if you succeed without sacrifice it is because someone before you sacrificed. if you sacrifice without success, it is because someone will succeed after you." - Adinoram Judson

To flourish or not to flourish...

...that is the question. Whether it is nobler in the mind to show the five faces of Sybil or to take arms against a sea of flashy flourishes and by opposing, end them.

The question above (usually in simpler form) gets argued on a lot of message boards. The problem with those discussions, like so many, is that people go in with preconceived answers and they don't want discussion so much as validation. What many in these discussions don't take into account is that we are all in different places and are all trying to say different things. Magic is, after all, simply a vehicle for communication.

"So how does this help me, O Wise One? Should I flourish or not?" Depends on what you want to say. You can say, "I'm really cool and can handle a deck of cards (or whatever) incredibly well." Or you can say, "The universe is a stranger place than you can ever know." Now this is not a value judgment. There are times when the first statement is more reasonable than the second. If you and some friends are standing around bragging about your various talents and you say, "The universe is a stranger place than you can ever know," then at best you will get some funny looks.

I consider flourishes to be spices - best if used sparingly. I like cayenne pepper, but a little goes a long way, and then only on certain things. No cayenne on my lemon custard, thank you.

A related issue is that flourishes are not magic, at least as I define it. Magic, by my definition, has to look impossible. It has to seem there is no way to accomplish what just happened. Flourishes can kill that twice: first, they are inherently not impossible in and of themselves (and I'll come back to that in a minute), and second, if you can do a seven-packet running cut, well then hey, it's no surprise the selected card ended up in your wallet.

I've heard flourish artists argue that flourishes do seem impossible, based on the fact that they've heard people say, "Man, that's impossible! There's no way you can do that!" The problem with that is if that's the criteria you then have to include jugglers, acrobats, gymnasts, knife throwers and yoga masters under the umbrella "magicians." People use the word 'impossible' as a superlative to mean 'very difficult.' A little analysis will show a clear difference between a billiard ball roll-up flourish and the sudden appearance of another billiard ball. A spectator might say, "Impossible!," to both, but one clearly has the appearance of defying natural law, and the other clearly does not.

So should you use flourishes? The more important question is, what do you want to say? Figure out what you want to say and the best way to say it, and the question of flourishes will answer itself.

Want a flourish link? Here ya go.