Bolton Fall Fair, but more morbid than usual

I went to the Bolton Fall Fair last weekend, braving covid and pubescent boys in camo pants in an attempt to ride The Scrambler and get some artistic photos. The Scrambler has been there so long I know exactly how to hook myself in and hook myself out all by myself. My brother wasn’t in the mood this year so I went solo.                                                                                                                                                                   Anyway, shit has been happening, if you haven’t heard. Things rarely depress me – I tend to just go all Doctor My Eyes and become numb to prevent myself from feeling any negative emotions. I think it’s maybe the British heritage. Anyway, this whole fair felt like a Doctor My Eyes moment.                                                                                                                                                                   Canada is still in performative mourning after the “discovery” of countless child graves associated with Indian Residential Schools. (I’m posting this on the first annual Truth and Reconciliation Day. I remember I used to gawk at the fact that Australia has a National Sorry Day but at least they’re actually trying to say sorry. I can’t help but think “reconciliation” is code for “getting the natives to forgive us”. They don’t owe colonizers forgiveness. I digress.) The flags have all been half-mast for what feels like 6+ months now – you can’t really be sure what they’re half-mast for anymore.                                                                                                                                                                    Anyway, there was this flashy new ride there, the Freak Out, and upon approaching it from the library I caught both the ride and the lowered flag at the perfect angle.                                                                                                                                                                  

It’s poetry in motion.                                                                                                                                                                    Another clip I captured was the Ferris wheel. I’m actually really bummed about the Ferris wheel – the model the fair used to have was the exact same model Childish Gambino and the teddy bear were riding in the 3005 music video, but alas, I knew that rickety old thing would be replaced eventually.                                                                                                                                                                   The Ferris wheel had its own speakers that were blaring music, mostly hits from 2020. And to preface this, covid is far from over – we recently entered the fourth wave – so this fair happened amid covid. And in a poetic stroke or morbid happenstance that I could not have scripted better, the Ferris wheel played Level of Concern, the song Twenty One Pilots wrote specifically about covid-induced anxiety. I wish the video I got was longer, but the ride operators were giving me looks.                                                                                                                                                                  

                                                                                                                                                                   The last decent image I got was a carnie taking a rest in his teacup ride, which I personally feel has huge “how tf am i an essential worker” vibes. This was near the end of Friday. night when things were winding down. I think his last rider was one little kid wearing noise-cancelling earmuffs, having a blast by himself. Me and you both, lil dude.                                                                                                                                                                  

The symbolism writes itself in this case, I think.