Alexandra Norrskèn (N.S.) (lantichristo) wrote,
Alexandra Norrskèn (N.S.)
lantichristo

The Carnie

Inconsistency can drive me insane.

Then again, routine has never been my friend either. Therefore, I do not keep one for too long.
I seem not to keep habits and such notions for long either.
I acquire passions. Yes. I become obsessed with one "thing", whatever that may be, and suckle on it like a hungry baby fox on its mother's tit.

Then all of a sudden I get bored and start looking for my next victim.
I shouldn’t say victim though. Because whatever it is, I give it my all. For a little while, it is the center of my universe. It is my reason to live. IT, is my only true desire! The reason I wake up in the morning.

I deal with everything and everyone that becomes my flavor of the month in the same manner!
Well, that, is consistency!



- And there is a constant craving.
Is this familiar? This desire? THIS, desire? This craving ... This Wanting ... This Longing ... This Yearning ... This ... -


When I find a new passion I will see through it all the way.
The whole time I’m into it I will be completely devoted.
It, will be my last thought before I close my eyes.
My every waking thought.
It will reside in my dreams, in my blood.
But when I’m tired of it, it will quickly become irrelevant.
It will become dispensable, replaceable.
This, is consistency.

Do you recognise this desire? THIS desire? Can you see it? Do you smell it?

Maybe this is my routine.
My hamster wheel.
I am dependably undependable.
Reliably unreliable.
Predictably unpredictable
Constantly inconsistent.
Yet, I want everything and everyone around me in a constant, infinite, line ...


Like the carnival.




Very often I wonder why am I not working at a carnival.
Why haven’t I run away with the circus?
I tried once. When I was a kid. Back in the day when carnivals had animals and freaks.
I remember the trailer with the monkey. It was open so I just got in. I remember the two small cages. The smell of hay in the hot Mediterranean sun. The sound of the elephants from within the tent across the camp. I had seen the show the night before with my dad and got mesmerised. I planned my escape as we were leaving. I sneaked in the next day, early noon. They were leaving soon. I had packed a bag with nothing in it. Only a white block and some markers. I remember my "hunger", my "desire". But the monkey scared me. He ate my giant waterproof marker and within seconds he turned all dark blue.
The whole cage turned blue. What a carnage! Pieces of plastic, aluminium and chunks of compact polyester all over the place.
I run.
They would have found me anyway. How long can an eight year old girl with red overalls hide in a blue monkey’s cage?

Since I was a kid I loved the idea of changing places. Living in a circus trailer. Camping from one place to another. See the world. Having no home. No constant.
Yet the carnival would be my constant.
It would be the only thing that could forever rely on me to always be there.

It would be the only thing I could rely on, to always be there with me, along with all its baggage, along with all its kinks.
The cities would change, the audience would change, the tricks would change ... but the carnival would always remain the same!
A moving constant.

- How else can one quench such thirst?
Such desire?
When is it enough? -

Can you feel it? Do you see it? Do you know?

Some desires are like cotton candy at a carnival.

It is not all that appetizing. Not much fulfilling either. It is not rich and has no stable texture. It is rather ugly looking; some may even find it disgusting. When you think about it, you do not really like it. It is sticky and makes your teeth hurt ...
Yet, when at a carnival, it is a necessity!!!
It smells great and if you look at it from a certain angle, it is rather funny looking. Like blue or white or pink clouds ready to be devoured.
It looks soft, safe and present, yet you know it will fast disappear.
You know you won’t really have time to get tired of it. It will melt on your tongue before you get to close your mouth. And weirdly enough, you’re asking for more.
Except, you won’t have it anywhere else but the carnival.
Is that maybe love?


Yes, inconsistency can drive me insane.
Am I talking about you? Who knows? I wont's say. This way, when I’m tired of you, I won’t have to apologize, to you or any other you.


- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
I’m not sorry, I’m not sorry, I’m not sorry.
No, I’m not talking about you.
Or any of the you out there in particular .


No, I’m talking about the thirst, the yearning, the craving, the hunger, the desire. That desire!





-Is there time to join the circus?-





Good evening to all you carnies out there like me.




Alexandra N.S.


Tags: alone, amusing stories, carnivals/carnies, dear diary, writing
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