Journal 118
Brin 30
Concert pyrotechnician
- Life
- A van most weeks and a storage unit full of cases with the labels taped over.
- Temper
- Careful with fire and careless with bedtime
Kinks
- A lot that still has people in it, far off
- More than one set of hands
- Asphalt, night, cases shut
I am Brin, thirty. I am freelance, and I am careful with fire and finished with it the moment I am released. I do not fuck people I am responsible for on a show. The cases get their labels taped over and the van stays plain. After I am off the clock I want crowd adults and freelancers from other departments, asphalt, more than one set of hands. I do not pair off. A security cart in the distance is weather. A yes in front of me is the job I actually want.
The blog
2 entries, newest first.
The bus
The crew bus was parked and empty, and it was not my call. Somebody from another department had left it dark at the edge of the lot with the door cracked. I was off the clock again, released, cases already in the lockup. Yann was thirty-nine, a stranger from the same lot, not on my crew, not a person I aimed fire around. He offered a cigarette I did not…
Read full postThe lot after
The show was over and I had been released. Cases shut, labels taped, nothing of mine still hot. I stood in the night lot beside the plain dark van in a black t-shirt with no mark, black pants, boots, pale undercut with the longer top swept aside, gauges in my ears. Tam was twenty-six. Reese was thirty-three. They had been in the crowd, not on my crew, not people I…
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