by RUPERT BOTTENBERG

Lions, tigers and bears—oh, no. There won’t be any wildlife at the second Diary of a Lost Circus soirée, though it will be wild and lively. Nor will there be a squadron of diminutive clowns piling out of a tiny car. There will be one stocky clown on hand, however, and that’s ringmaster Dom Castelli.

The longstanding local impresario of the bizarre has joined forces with sexy siren Damiana Dolce to assemble a “Vaudeville Valentine’s extravaganza” that, while short on human cannonballs and sword swallowers, is heavily stacked (pun fully intended) with prurient purveyors of neo-burlesque.

“We have slammed our minds together,” says Castelli, rubbing his bruised forehead, “hunting, searching, recruiting people with a special character to get it on and get going in front of as many people as will watch this show. It’s a mix of a lot of things—talented, hot women, hot men, good songs and sounds, witty commentary, weird things and world-famous jokes.

“I was talking with Damiana on the phone,” he recalls, “she was asking me what to call the night, and we came up with names like the Sexy Pants Party, the I Wanna Dance Half-Naked by Myself Show and the like. Damiana, the goddess she is, mentions we should use the word ‘circus.’ As I gracefully glanced at the 1929 German poster for the Louise Brooks film Diary of a Lost Girl, I thought to myself, ‘We are all kind of lost, all trying to find our spot, looking for other spot-finders and with our dances and guitars, we end up finding each other by accident.’”

Castelli’s philosophical revelation prompted the title Diary of a Lost Circus, and Dolce dug it too. “A lost circus,” muses Castelli, “a whole lot of us wandering around in the city with a stick, a dress and a good song in our head.”

Risqué business

The event falls on Valentine’s weekend, a fact that Castelli and Dolce have capitalized on. “We’re gonna encourage strangers to hold hands, we’re gonna give out Valentine’s cards, we’re gonna enforce flirting, risqué business and kissing. Even after the show, we are gonna have a wild, hot ’50s dance party.”

Before the dance party, however, come the daring, dirty dancers. Behold Torchy Taboo—“A virtual human heatwave from Atlanta,” claims Castelli. And Chastity Chevy, “a hot lil’ East End pin-up girl with a nasty attitude, a thing for hot boots, tight corsets and big tattoos.”

There’s also no less than the Skin Tight Outta Sight Rebel Burlesque troupe from Toronto, a pioneering posse-in-pasties, Miss Gina the Dragpiper bringing the whole kilt ’n’ kaboodle and of course Damiana Dolce—“A true treasure. Not only a hardworking mom but a co-producer, she is a diva, a dream with a voice like the cream of wonder. She’ll turn the meanest pirate into a groveling, whimpering cabin boy.”

Live music comes care of the Hubcap Circus Band, featuring Castelli himself with Zak of the Alley Dukes on guitar and Johnny from the Brains on stand-up bass, as well as the mysterious Clee Shay Johnson, “A dark, dark feather of a singer—all your pain and all your strain is sucked in by his songs and words of a sad freak-show man!”

Castelli’s mastery of the carnival barker’s poetic hyperbole is matched by his knack for, shall we say, imaginative extra touches to the night’s card, things like a lurid banana-eating session, a rockabilly kissing auction and something called hula-hoop humping.

“These lil’ bonus features,” he says, “have been inspired by things I think about.” Apparently an amateur stripping contest is also something Castelli spends his free time just sorta thinkin’ about. That, and what to conjure up for future events like this. “By the next show, we will create new personas, recruit new acts and constantly change the script. We believe being alive doesn’t mean you have to be dead!”

At Café Campus on Sunday, Feb. 12, 8:30 p.m., $9

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