if only tonight we could sleep...
Jan. 13th, 2003 12:54 amWhen I was young, maybe 7 or 8, my parents took me to the largish amusement park about an hour and a half away from our hometown. The only part of this specific visit that I remember is the magic show. The only specific part of this magic show that has been etched on my brain, clouded from time and refurbished by my own mind, is the part that didn't seem appropriate for me to be viewing.
There was a girl, by now in gauzy white, flowing strands of it behind her. The magician, in requisite tails and top hat, cape optional. He somehow lifted her into the air and and placed her above a giant, gleaming dagger. He lowered her and the dagger pierced her back, emerged from her stomach, trailing rivulets of blood...though the blood my mind might have concocted as a way of comprehending. I watched in complete awe. She sank to the bottom of the blade, gesticulating with fluidity, and was removed seconds later, being lifted up the same way. I've seen this trick done, though with variation, since.
And this is what irks me about this. This obviously shaped me in some way. I have a weird thing for magicians. I have constant visions of being impaled. There's something personally thematic about the whole event. I somehow wanted to be that girl. Just now, as I was laying on the floor, my mind drifted to how it would feel, look, to be run through with a sword, a pole, a dagger. But what if that was a dream? What if I'm remembering that whole scenario as a dream I had, possibly when I WAS that age? Ah, brain...you are a tricky bugger. I suppose it doesn't matter. It's enough fodder for artistic purposes.
And no, I don't really want to be impaled. It's not some weird fetish...and for all you armchair-Freuds out there...No, being "impaled on a pole" doesn't mean what you think it means.
Well, fuckshitbitch, looks like they might be refurbishing(click "refurbishing"...I need to change my link colors) the Haunted Mansion on the day we're planning to go...and the days before and after. It's ALMOST not worth it. *scowls, kicks things*
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There was a girl, by now in gauzy white, flowing strands of it behind her. The magician, in requisite tails and top hat, cape optional. He somehow lifted her into the air and and placed her above a giant, gleaming dagger. He lowered her and the dagger pierced her back, emerged from her stomach, trailing rivulets of blood...though the blood my mind might have concocted as a way of comprehending. I watched in complete awe. She sank to the bottom of the blade, gesticulating with fluidity, and was removed seconds later, being lifted up the same way. I've seen this trick done, though with variation, since.
And this is what irks me about this. This obviously shaped me in some way. I have a weird thing for magicians. I have constant visions of being impaled. There's something personally thematic about the whole event. I somehow wanted to be that girl. Just now, as I was laying on the floor, my mind drifted to how it would feel, look, to be run through with a sword, a pole, a dagger. But what if that was a dream? What if I'm remembering that whole scenario as a dream I had, possibly when I WAS that age? Ah, brain...you are a tricky bugger. I suppose it doesn't matter. It's enough fodder for artistic purposes.
And no, I don't really want to be impaled. It's not some weird fetish...and for all you armchair-Freuds out there...No, being "impaled on a pole" doesn't mean what you think it means.
Well, fuckshitbitch, looks like they might be refurbishing(click "refurbishing"...I need to change my link colors) the Haunted Mansion on the day we're planning to go...and the days before and after. It's ALMOST not worth it. *scowls, kicks things*
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Re: That doesn't sound too bad.
Date: 2003-01-13 11:22 am (UTC)Yes, but did you see the part about the Haunted Mansion being closed?! AAAAAAAAUGH! p.s. Staci's coming. Heheh. :}
Yes, there was a scene in the bad 80's t.v. show Riptide that stuck with me as well. Some "bad guy" had all of these gold mannequins tied up and lined up, suspended from a wire. The mannequins themselves were in quite submissive poses (though I don't think, as mannquins they would be fighting much). He walked down the line of them, kissed one on the stomach, said something cheesy and dumb, I'm sure, walked a few paces back, and blew each one away with a gun.