My reading of Revival

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GNTLGNT

The idiot is IN
Jun 15, 2007
84,472
334,899
57
Cambridge, Ohio
#22
Well, that's the thing, we tend to not end up sharing with" marks " as we call them, as they don't seem to value that although we bring excitement everywhere we go, we aren't very exciting. It's not always so scandalous or juicy.

I grew up a hard life, constantly traveling on the road, cold, sick, lonely on the outside of society, with just some books and an a.m./f.m. radio in the night. My family, although well traveled show owners, are very crude salt of the earth people.

It was a mind numbing march from town to town, where we brought excitement to people and made their lives a little shinier, our selves leaving a little more stooped and a little more tired for it, the Ferris wheel our find-my-way-home constellation of the night. It never ends, until it does. Like they say, the show must go on.

I often feel like I have nothing to say about it. It's not like " Desperate Housewives (with Carnies! ) " There's no monsters like in a Ray Bradbury piece, there's just poor and proud people who work their lives away, finger to the bone, with a few criminals on the lam mixed in for good measure.

Although I did work as a child " operator " or " agent " as they say, in a variety of different " joints " ( games ) and I grew up with a mother with cotton candy in her hair, I feel like it's actually probably just boring to people I think. We are itinerant farmers with Ferris wheels and teddy bears.

My work would probably be about despair, and then when my fellow road dogs read it, they would perhaps feel a sense of sadness at the self awareness. I don't want to hurt the other Showpeople by disturbing their gentle reality even by speaking of it. It's all magic.

That world only exists because it is allowed to, it's fabric is composed of subconscious participants and it is dying away. It's like a near corpse on it's death bed that I don't want to hug because I don't want to cause it to turn to dust.

As a carny, I came like a shaman, year after year and took away peoples pain. Now I am off in a room stewing, to write it all down and give it all back would be... a rule violation and liberating.

I've thought it over. It's hard being a life long member of a somewhat small and unique band of peoples. It's also hard being a carny. It's even harder to be a carny child. It's that move-along loneliness. And for that, I had my books. That's what books are good for. That's why I always liked Sk, as a move along carny with a move along life, I could always enter the world of the constant reader where things were somewhat consistent albeit fantastic.

<3

Take care you guys.
..what a tremendously gifted piece of writing...
 
Mar 12, 2010
6,539
28,989
Texas
#24
My work would probably be about despair, and then when my fellow road dogs read it, they would perhaps feel a sense of sadness at the self awareness. I don't want to hurt the other Showpeople by disturbing their gentle reality even by speaking of it. It's all magic.

That world only exists because it is allowed to, it's fabric is composed of subconscious participants and it is dying away. It's like a near corpse on it's death bed that I don't want to hug because I don't want to cause it to turn to dust.
You have a L of a lot more empathy than most of us... which is more of a curse than a blessing :(
 
Likes: GNTLGNT

E.St

Active Member
Oct 17, 2014
32
128
41
Greece
#27
Well, that's the thing, we tend to not end up sharing with" marks " as we call them, as they don't seem to value that although we bring excitement everywhere we go, we aren't very exciting. It's not always so scandalous or juicy.

I grew up a hard life, constantly traveling on the road, cold, sick, lonely on the outside of society, with just some books and an a.m./f.m. radio in the night. My family, although well traveled show owners, are very crude salt of the earth people.

It was a mind numbing march from town to town, where we brought excitement to people and made their lives a little shinier, our selves leaving a little more stooped and a little more tired for it, the Ferris wheel our find-my-way-home constellation of the night. It never ends, until it does. Like they say, the show must go on.

I often feel like I have nothing to say about it. It's not like " Desperate Housewives (with Carnies! ) " There's no monsters like in a Ray Bradbury piece, there's just poor and proud people who work their lives away, finger to the bone, with a few criminals on the lam mixed in for good measure.

Although I did work as a child " operator " or " agent " as they say, in a variety of different " joints " ( games ) and I grew up with a mother with cotton candy in her hair, I feel like it's actually probably just boring to people I think. We are itinerant farmers with Ferris wheels and teddy bears.

My work would probably be about despair, and then when my fellow road dogs read it, they would perhaps feel a sense of sadness at the self awareness. I don't want to hurt the other Showpeople by disturbing their gentle reality even by speaking of it. It's all magic.

That world only exists because it is allowed to, it's fabric is composed of subconscious participants and it is dying away. It's like a near corpse on it's death bed that I don't want to hug because I don't want to cause it to turn to dust.

As a carny, I came like a shaman, year after year and took away peoples pain. Now I am off in a room stewing, to write it all down and give it all back would be... a rule violation and liberating.

I've thought it over. It's hard being a life long member of a somewhat small and unique band of peoples. It's also hard being a carny. It's even harder to be a carny child. It's that move-along loneliness. And for that, I had my books. That's what books are good for. That's why I always liked Sk, as a move along carny with a move along life, I could always enter the world of the constant reader where things were somewhat consistent albeit fantastic.

<3

Take care you guys.
This, I think is what the friend who suggested you should write a book meant. THIS. Personally, I'd love to read something like this. With these same paragraphs thrown into it.
It seems to me -although I cant say I'm a critic, and not a literature major- that you have it. I was moved by that. And that doesnt happen very often to me.
On the other hand, I get what you say and respect it.
I grew up in a world with almost no carnies. Never met somebody who worked in one either. Carnies here were very rare. I have a photo from 1979, I was 2, in a carny. Hugging a monkey and my father hugging me. I still have a very faint memory of it, like a dream that leaves back a feeling more than an actual memory/image. And that feeling is awe and magic. I would like to read about that awe to be reminded of that child hugging a monkey back in 79. And I would like to read about what happened when the lights went off and we went home. Because as an adult, I want the truth. Even if it "dispels the magic". The truth is magic. Even if it reveals things you dont like. Knowing is magic. Even if it explains how the magician performs his tricks. Understanding is magic-er -if you permit me this grammatical atrocity :D-
And much more important, understanding people is magic. And you better understand people when you learn about their lives after the lights of the scene go off.
You may not write this book friend. And you should not, from what I've read in your post. Someone should though. :D
My best regards and my sincere wishes for your illness. (hmm.. I wrote a greek-ism there.It makes the opposite sense in english now that I see it again, doesnt it?? :S)
 

Van Blaricum

Deleted User
Oct 28, 2014
320
1,829
#28
This, I think is what the friend who suggested you should write a book meant. THIS. Personally, I'd love to read something like this. With these same paragraphs thrown into it.
It seems to me -although I cant say I'm a critic, and not a literature major- that you have it. I was moved by that. And that doesnt happen very often to me.
On the other hand, I get what you say and respect it.
I grew up in a world with almost no carnies. Never met somebody who worked in one either. Carnies here were very rare. I have a photo from 1979, I was 2, in a carny. Hugging a monkey and my father hugging me. I still have a very faint memory of it, like a dream that leaves back a feeling more than an actual memory/image. And that feeling is awe and magic. I would like to read about that awe to be reminded of that child hugging a monkey back in 79. And I would like to read about what happened when the lights went off and we went home. Because as an adult, I want the truth. Even if it "dispels the magic". The truth is magic. Even if it reveals things you dont like. Knowing is magic. Even if it explains how the magician performs his tricks. Understanding is magic-er -if you permit me this grammatical atrocity :D-
And much more important, understanding people is magic. And you better understand people when you learn about their lives after the lights of the scene go off.
You may not write this book friend. And you should not, from what I've read in your post. Someone should though. :D
My best regards and my sincere wishes for your illness. (hmm.. I wrote a greek-ism there.It makes the opposite sense in english now that I see it again, doesnt it?? :S)
Behind the curtain The Wizard was really just a man.

It was more interesting when he was The Wizard.

Here's to things always being interesting. :eek:
 
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