Debbie’s Friday talk on the body biography prompted the question I was too slow to ask: how is the method generalizable? Afterwards, we discussed briefly the possibility of other “celebrity” body biography (in place of Burke, McLuhan), but now I am thinking of one’s own body biography. An auto-body biography. In place of the obsession with bodily fluids (Burke), what other pattern might emerge?
Eyes: When I complained about seeing “double” at age six or so, I got glasses. But I only wanted dark, black glasses. That’s all I would let my dad buy me. Blues Brother glasses without the shades. 1950s style. Then I didn’t need them anymore. How can one’s eyes be fixed? Today, my eyes feel less than fixed. Reading. Reading. Reading. My eyes blur. I can’t see signs at night. I struggle to read the unimportant headline news. I have glasses again, but I hardly wear them.
Knee: Without athletic ability, I jump at the chance to pretend I have it. A pick up game a few months ago blew out my knee. Finally, put in a game, and my body choked. It collapsed upon itself. It knows its limits. It wants me to look weak in front of my colleagues.
Hair: The great male problem. A running joke. An embarrassment. A sign of age. There are the different kinds of losses. The Larry from the Three Stooges side accumulation (nothing in the middle). The monk look (big plate on the back left exposed). The rocker look (so thin, but grown out in the back to look stringy and long).
Height: The desire to be tall. To tower. To look down upon others. Even at small stature, I have no problem with the last item on this list. We compensate height with attitude. Or that’s what the cliche says. Maybe one can have attitude regardless of height? is it all envy in the end? Vered loves the game: SO BIG. Me too. But my game is metaphoric.