But Jacob is remarkable enough in his own right, that he doesn’t need to stunt with a fancy house.
While eating nachos after a late night of swing dancing, we watched him defuse an awkward conversation by magically making the beer bottle caps first disappear, then retrieving them from behind his ear.
It came out then that he was a magician. That he has, in fact, made his living no other way since he was of legal working age.
(Except maybe for the time he sued Criss Angel for ripping off his Levitation Chair design. Which I must remember to ask him about, next time I see him.)
His no-frontin’ digs, like his unassuming demeanor, are the portal to a fantastic world if you venture just a little farther. Just past said unremarkable front gate lies an acre of trapeze rings, aerial silks, juggling equipment, trampolines, and neon-lit hula hoops, together with a pool, a parkour park and a dance studio.
This is the Circus Farm.
Last night, I saw it for myself.
Every second Friday, the Circus Farm invites the public to come and play.
Along with offering their acreage of performance props for civilians to mess with and amateurs to practice, they host a variety show (emcee’d by Jacob himself). Last night’s included performances by a singing comedian, my friend Laurel’s solo jazz troupe, and a burlesque tap dancer called Dilly Dally.
And fire spinning.
Lots of fire spinning.
It was… do I need to say it? …magical.