I have never shared what I’m about to tell you with anyone. It was simply too emotionally raw a subject. But it’s impossible to understand Christopher Carrion without knowing the reality in which he is rooted. Many years ago, at a dinner party in London, I listened, appalled, to a conversation between two doctors. Somehow the exchange had come to rest on the subject of those experiences which had driven from them all trust in a merciful god. One of the men, his manner very matter of fact, related his failure to save the life of an infant less than two weeks old, who’d been all but consumed by a domestic fire. The baby, beyond all hope of being healed, could not even cry. It had inhaled too much heat. I had nothing to contribute to this, of course, except to find a place to file this sadness. And then one day comes a character who is in some measure a figure who has a profound suffering which made sense in a world where infants were denied the freedom to cry until their breath gave out. Christopher Carrion was born that night.
They’ve been sitting there for like three weeks now. My almost-finished Candy pants. I haven’t finished them completely ‘cause I’ve got some issues with the fit in the waist but that’s beside the point. Also obviously this is just the front. Tbh I like the back better ‘cause I got to make my own design and I think it turned out better??? Oh well.