An insite into the mind of the person no one ever quite gets, the person you all wonder about. The person we may never understand.
Disney Life Raft
I sat in the movie theatre pretending to be the hyper, bouncy, child-like guy that has earned me the honorary title of Ďgay best friendí to quite a few girls in my 17 years. I clung tightly onto the plush kangaroo in my hand, a character from a Disney institution. Had I thought about it then as I do now, with the benefit of time, quiet and 80ís disco music, I would have realised why I held it so tightly why it was so important for me to not only hold the Disney icon but to be a child.
I have always admitted to three fears; rice, ski gloves and forks.
Rice has always wierded me out when itís cooking, well its boils bubbles rise slowly through the rise to burst on the surface causing these grotesque boils to slowly appear through the rice and rise to the surface only to burst and replaced by more, My reasons for not applying this to water or other boiling liquids I believe is the speed, the same reason I cannot watch something sink in, or rise to the top of a pool of water it is slow and from the hideous moment it begins you know what is going to happen but you cannot stop it. It would seem therefore I fear rice because it, in reality, shows my fears of lack of control and the inevitable.
Ski gloves? I admit it is not ski gloves themselves that scare me, but what happens if you put them on the wrong hands, they appear with disjointed thumbs. What can I say? Itís not how they are meant to look and I canít stand it. I guess this goes to show I canít stand the fact things donít actually have to be the way they are meant to when you start them. The most beautiful intentions can bare the most hideous of results. I suppose this is me saying want the beauty I have always wished for, and I donít want there to be a risk of me not getting it.
Forks, again itís not the forks, but rather the fear of catching the prongs between my teeth, a thought that rushes to me whenever I try to deal with cutlery where one item is trapped in the teeth of a fork. Upon removing them unless you do it ever so carefully there is always a moment at which they catch, they jar, they grind together and this jolt of discomfort goes through my body. This would have to be my fear of bad situations, this is the same reason I hate to be wrong, I canít stand to upset people I like and I cannot stand disappointment when itís directed at me or others for that reason. I cannot watch discomfort whether I know the people or not. I just lack the strength.
What do these things, these silly little things I fear have in common with that cinema and that childrenís Kangaroo?
Iím not ready to grow upÖ Iím just not.
The Kangaroo is just my Disney Life raft, my way of holding onÖ my way of still being the child I need desperately to be.
Loved it. Kind of makes me think of Chuck Palahniouk's work (spelling?). I really get a good sense of your character's idiosyncracies and the reasons behind them. I also like the tone you used- not too casual, but casual enough.
If you don't mind me asking, is this story about a real person or a fictional character?
I suppose the character is based on those loaner types we all have seen, but as there is no one in particular I was using I would have to say he is fictional. And it is such a complemiment that you would link my work to his, I hold him in great esteem, he has such a wonderful style.