Loving Clowns

This is family trait: we fall on funny men. My grandmother did, so did my mother, also my sister and me. If not clowns, my men have usually been at least entertainers. Often they have been music freaks – don’t ask me why.

I don’t have anything against man being funny, when he knows when and how. In my family there has been tendency to attach to immature types (my father and also as far as I can tell: my maternal grandfather). This kind of immaturity is not necessary good for the relationship. Sometimes it has seemed to me that my mother and my grandmother were more like mothers to their husbands. Not something I’d want. I think my aunt was looking for the opposite, when she chose a worst bully I know. Would not like to take that road neither.

Yet some of those serious types seem far too boring for me. It is hard to be looking for everyday dullness, as they seem to me. It gives me goose bumps. May be it is just what one is used to and expects from life. Yet, what would be so wrong for looking good humour in such? Could there be a middle-way? I have not yet found the answer.


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