My Twilight Zone

A Sunday essay about messy curation of the mind, and space

Here I am sitting at my computer. Caught between the Incredible Hulk and Animal from The Muppets. Katy took the photo. Because Katy has the eye, always. The $3 plastic Hulk figure was bought for Oscar at a garage sale in our street, and he ditched it almost straight away. I salvaged it because I love the Hulk, have huge nostalgia for the TV show, absolute frustration at the movies, and a deep connection to the ideal of what the Hulk represents. It’s a reminder of anger in me, and around me.

Animal was my birthday present when I was five years old. I was the talk of the town, man. Everyone at my birthday party wanted to play with Animal. It’s a hand puppet, and I have kept it pretty well preserved. It has been a friend for life. Animal was my first favourite drummer. And was probably my inspiration for wanting to play, and sadly we studied a similar technique. Animal used to sit on my bedpost for a while, after I outgrew using him as a puppet. Now he keeps me company when I write.

Behind me there, a Texas Chainsaw Massacre adventure game, and an action figure from the movie, They Live. These are totems too.

I’ve always surrounded myself with ephemera, distractions, displays. When I was five and six and seven it was Smurfs on a bookshelf, and a few action figures too. When I was eight and nine and ten it was Transformers, and Masters of the Universe, Star Wars figures, and various other toys.

Then cassette tapes became the thing. Later CDs. Records. VHS tapes too. Always books, and for a while lots of magazines. Subscriptions to Guitar World, and the posters on the walls. Then Modern Drummer, and also forays into pro-wrestling, more music, the comics of Footrot Flat, Garfield, and Peanuts.

These aren’t really on display to tell you who I am — although, sure, it will do some of the work, and that is part of their task. These, really, are on display to remind me of who I am. And to take me out. Also, to hone me; allowing me to focus — get me right in the zone. Whatever that zone might be. A Twilight Zone I have invented for myself. And will never perfect. Because that’s not the game. Nor is this any sort of game. This is important work. To me.