Everybody's Favourite Stranger

It's lonely making friends for ten minutes. But as a magician, and a close-up one to boot, that's what I do. I charm and woo strangers into love with me, they worship me like Gandalf but without the beard, they rejoice in my incredible company as I dance like a little table monkey beside them. But as I leave, walking off a little more financially viable than when I arrived, I forget them with a snap of the fingers, I drop their faces from my conscious like a cold stone. If we should chance to meet again, I will not remember them much to their disappointment, I'll stand there giving them a wary, guarded, hunted look as they produce signed cards and memorabilia as proof of our interaction. I have become an expert in forgetting people, best friends for ten minutes, strangers the next, and it puts a strain. I no longer enjoy being this close to my audience, I want to put some distance back, I'd like to get back on stage again, maybe do some more stand-up, leave the magic behind. I've always thought that going from magic to comedy is like a hooker becoming an escort; you talk more and do less tricks. My ego can't take the ups and downs of magic much longer, tonight I went from one group who had come in to see me specifically, they laughed, clapped and cheered as I put cards in bottles and bottles through tables, to the next table of three containing an American woman who halfway through my second trick said 'I think you're delightful, but you need to stop now.' Ouch.