Little Wars


The first flight in recorded history was on December 17th, 1903.
I’m sure the fear of flying was first recorded on December 18th of the same year.
It’s a giant metal thing that looks like a bird that goes high and goes fast. It’s supposed to make you feel safe. Then you look down. All of a sudden the earth looks like a map drawn by a child. You can see the tops of mountains, trees look flat. Cars are ants.

From Italian word for “little war” we take the word carousel. From a test of horsemanship we get a 10 ton metal machine that helps us go in circles on various animals.
Around the 16th century the French took the little wars from breathing horses to stationary wooden ones on a wheel for children. It’s just like humanity to turn something violent into a kid’s game.
I always tried to ride bear.

I’ve never been comfortable flying. Especially these longs distances. Qantas flight 23, dead straight from Sydney International to the barren land of the angels, California.
All I could see was the ocean.
I wasn’t running away. It felt like it, but I really didn’t have a choice. I made sure of that. I’m good at making my choices before I actually have the chance to choose them.
Self sabotage.
And now I’m stuck in a steel bird flying from one end of the globe to the other in hopes of starting over. Yet again.

The early carousels had no platform. The animals would fly out as they spun. Centrifugal force they call it.
Things always seem to be spinning out of control. Especially during times of happiness. When shit is going wrong it’s solid. You can pinpoint the exact reasons, the exact things that need to change. When they do change, everything is up in the air and you are left waiting for the shit to come flying back around.

The first plane crash in recorded history was on September 17th, 1908.
First Lieutenant Thomas E. Selfridge, co-pilot to Orville Wright, died on the ground in Ft. Myer.
My name is Thomas too.

The oldest working carousel in Europe is in a place called Letna Park in Prague.
In the park they erected a statue to Stalin in 1955; they tore it to the ground in 1962.
During the Velvet Revolution in the 1980’s Communism once again came to Letna Park as the sight for many demonstrations and the nationwide strike in 1989.
Everything is circular. Everything comes back to where it started, again and again.
Today is September the Seventeenth.

I hate flying. With reason. The masks have just dropped. Someone has vomited.
I can feel my heart pounding.
My name is Thomas.
Today is September Seventeenth.
My plane is crashing.
Things are coming back around.

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About litbandit

El Bandito Bibliotequa...or something.
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