Gotta get out of bed get a hammer and a nail, learn how to use my hands,

[genny-duvall.livejournal.com]

Wednesday, August 4
Afternoon

We're havin' a Summer Sun Day next week. Gotta do somethin' different, I guess, to keep people comin' in. So the gates're all draped in yellow and I'm makin' pictures of suns to put on all of the rides and booths. Some of 'em are just paint, and some of 'em I put tears in so they've got rays that glow and shimmer like the real sun.

It ain't enough. It ain't never enough.

I gotta do somethin'. I want to move is what I want. It ain't right that we're comin' on more'n a year here! It's summer, and we should be goin' north to them towns all full of pine trees where we set up on land that used to be farms next to lil white churches. Not everybody cares. Momma likes it here. She likes sittin' still.
But I feel like we should be goin' somewhere and we ain't.

I should be doin' somethin' big and I ain't.

Maybe it's because I ain't got nobody to be a priestess to no more. Maybe it's just that I want to move on.

Used to be that some nights I'd go to the corner of my room where I keep all the best pictures, the ones I made look the most real, and look at 'em. Now I don't 'cause lots of 'em just make me sad. That's where I put the pictures of Nu and Abzu - tore 'em right out of my sketchbook 'cause it hurt too much to look at 'em and put 'em way in the back. All the paintings I done while I was all wrong in the head are there, too. Don't wanna look at 'em.

Put the painting of Zann and the Carousel there too, 'cause it makes me sad to think 'bout her not bein' all the way right. I helped her, and I made it so's she didn't have to see the world wrong no more, but it still didn't fix it all, and it didn't make us right. We don't talk like we used to. We don't hardly talk at all, 'cause what'd we say? We smile and stuff, and say hey when we see each other in the cooktent, but that's it.

Still makes me happy to see her actin' all normal-like. She's still goin' into town to see all the friends she made there, 'cause it's Zann and she's got a hundred friends. She's still jokin' with all of the family folk and workin' on her machines, too.

I finish another sun, all shiny and flat, and grab my sketchbook. I gotta get out.

I go down to the river, down to my favorite spot, where I can see the river stretchin' far off into the distance, and I start to sketch.

[Open to Zann]

Comments

[tereixa-zann.livejournal.com]

"There! Got it," and with the sound of the camera I think about sutters and I remember all the other things they're for, holding in glass and blocking out storms, little flaps of wall. Heavier things than cameras, somehow. "You wanna try now?" and I take the camera from her, watching the Carousel spin 'round and 'round. I know what's coming next each time, sure, and that's almost like seeing things the way I used to, not just motion in the moment but understanding how each one will, has, does lead into the next, and the tune piping out steady and sure. The horses coming 'round the turn, and the sweet surety and new happiness of seeing that same old thing happen this time, and this time, and this time again...

I barely notice when I take the picture, and then I'm shaking my head and looking at her, kinda embarrassed but happy about it. "Bet yours'll be better," I say, grinning. "Can I help with getting them... things... with getting anything ready or done, now?" I mean, I looked up how to make one work, when I built it for her, but that's different from actually using it even at the most normal times and this ain't that, it really really isn't.

[genny-duvall.livejournal.com]

What does she see when she looks? Which one is she waitin' for?

Wish I knew what made her smile like that when she saw it.

I'm smilin' back when she takes the camera down, 'cause she just looks so happy. And...kinda sheepish, too? What's she got to be embarrassed 'bout? "Bet yours'll be better," she says, so I guess that's it.

"Yours is gonna be good too." I reach out to take the camera back - and then I wait a sec, and then put my hand on her shoulder. "If it makes you grin like that, it's gotta be good."

"Can I help with getting them... things... with getting anything ready or done, now?"

"Sure. If you wanna get some of the solutions ready, maybe? I...gotta think about what I should do with 'em." Which one should I cry into? All of 'em? Only one? How much? Guess I won't know till I get there, just like with the paints... "But you can get 'em all mixed up before I do. Here, let's go back to my place."

I can turn my trailer into a darkroom if I wanna. Don't usually close it off so much 'cause I don't want to keep the light out, but if I close the shutters and put the heavy curtains on then I can make it a darkroom. I reach up to close the shutters from the outside as we come up to it, and then tuck the camera under my arm real careful so's I can hold the door for Zann.

[tereixa-zann.livejournal.com]

"If it makes you grin like that, it's gotta be good," and I lift up my hand and put it over hers on my shoulder, squeeze it for a second.

"She kinda always does, if I think about it, you know?" I point my chin back towards the Carousel as we head back towards the living lot. "Stopping to look just... helps it be clearer." Think about that as she shuts up the windows, because what I miss is seeing what'll happen before and after, and it's strange to get even a little of that from watching what's happening now.

I head in and take the door from Genny so that she can get in without worrying about managing the door and the camera both. I know how to get things ready, at least; I had to look it all up that first time when I went to go see that Hughes guy about what I needed to make it work, make sure it could all work. They smell different from the way her trailer usually does, sharper and richer than the usual not-quite-dusty backdrop of oil and canvas and paper. And knowing that they'll work, it's not the same as seeing the Carousel, but it`s something to feel at least a little bit good about.

[genny-duvall.livejournal.com]

"Yeah. I know." I say to Zann, with a little smile. And I do. It's what Zann does, it's what she's always been about, and the carousel's always been her favorite of all her machines. I squeeze Zann's hand back, and then let it go so's we can get to work.

I can smell the solutions as Zann sets 'em out. Ain't smelled 'em in a long long time - ain't wanted to use 'em 'cause I didn't want to waste nothin'. Like when I was little and didn't want to wear my Sunday dress even on Sundays 'cause it was too good.

I put the camera down real careful and run my finger over the edge of the trays where Zann's put the chemicals.

Then my finger stops. The first one. The developer solution. That's where I gotta go. That's what actually makes the photo. That's what shows what's really there - the other two just keep the picture where it is once it's showin'. Yeah. This is the one where I need to work.

"Okay," I say, real quiet now. "I…gotta cry into this one. To make it show what's really there."

Hate this part.

I make sure the camera's all ready, and the film is set for me to just pick up and go, and then I start thinkin' 'bout stuff.

We're stuck here. Ain't never gonna go nowhere.

It's bad, but I already thunk it so many times that it ain't makin' me cry no more. Somethin' else.

People are gonna start leavin'. Not everyone's gonna want to stay here even if the Carnival does. People are gonna leave….

That does it. I sniff once, real big, and I feel the tears start to fall.

They hit the developer tray, and the world goes gray.

[tereixa-zann.livejournal.com]

She looks like a kid picking a ride from the Carousel on a slow afternoon, running her fingers over the carve of mane or rein or wing. "Okay. I…gotta cry into this one," she says. "To make it show what's really there."

"'kay," I say quietly, and I want to hug her, but that won't help right now, kinda the opposite in fact. So I step back and watch and her eyes well up with tears and turn into something gray as sanded glass, and there's a thin ripple in the developer tray, her tears falling in and I want to say don't cry, honey. And then she slides in the sheet and I lean over from the far side to look, to see how this will come out.

"Oh," I say all quiet, and then "oh, wow," and look up and I want to swallow my words because I don't know what else she might need to do and I don't want to be a distraction, and the picture's still all blurry with lines and shading ghosting in like metal filings echoing the circles of a magnet, and with the rippling from her tears I can't really tell, but, "Genny, hon, I... I think there's people...?"

[genny-duvall.livejournal.com]

The world goes gray…

I can hear the music. Bright happy music, nearly drowned out by people laughing, and under it all is the whirr and thump of machines.

And I see - bright sun and spinning wheels, horses soaring up and down, people laughing as they ride and clamoring at the gate to try to be next. The Carousel is full, just like it should be. Just like it truly is.

Power runs off of me in thick streams, like rain running out of gutters in a storm. This feels different, I think, in a far-off part of my mind. This isn't like painting. This is like eating the star (when did I ever eat a star?) - it's thick and full and fast, overflowing with the vivid details of every person and every gear, every thread of every horse's mane, every coin in every person's pocket, every wisp of cotton candy, everything and everything, running out of me and into the picture.

Everything is there. Every single detail, made real in the photograph, of the Carousel as it really is, as it was meant to be.

From far off there is a voice, tethering me to the world. "Genny, hon, I... I think there's people…?"

"Yes," I whisper. I smile at the sound of the voice and the feeling of the power within me. More and more power, until it tingles, until I'm so full I could burst. "Yes. There's people."

Done!

I don't know how I know it's time, but it is. I fall back, stumble away from the tray.

"I did it," I whisper, world still gray, as I stagger back.