Carni

Right now, there’s an inflatable castle in my head, and I’m in it and bouncing off the halls and turrets. This, I figure, was placed there by the alcohol. It was only half a pint, drunk with friends and laughter, but to my credit it’s already double the amount I would’ve dared to drink. So yeah; I’m still an alcohol wuss, and right now I’m bouncy.

(At any rate, a bouncing castle wouldn’t bode well with that NaNoWriMo novel we’re trying to finish, but I wanted to write something. At least until the bouncy castle deflates).

November was the craziest month.

There was the fact that I tried, and had to, close the magazine a week early. And there was NaNoWriMo. And the Japan trip came along and threw everything into disorder. I’ve technically worked for three weeks without a single day off, if you count Japan being work, which it is in parts.

But I've enjoyed NaNoWriMo. Japan was an eye opener, and the job was the same adrenaline rush that only midnights and deadlines could give. So it was all crazy, but crazy good. Crazy tiring.

November was like a carnival. It had lights, and noises, and music. It had rides that thrilled; roller-coaster carts and Ferris wheels and haunted houses, and it had shows and acts that told of secrets and shadows and the darkest pits of desire. And like all carnivals, you know the dark, seedy going-ons it has in its corners, and yet you’re attracted to the lights, thrilled by the thrills, enticed by the secrets in the tents...

You get swept into the ride, and you’ll hate it, but pervasively, unabashedly, finding every moment enjoyable.

All I found myself doing was falling. Into the spinning lights. While they played and danced and made me hate and like.

Right now I’m walking out of the carnival, cotton candy in one hand, beer bottle in the other. And there’s a ravine ahead.

And I know I’m just gonna fall.