Dinosaurs were never a great passion of mine; I never quite fit that archetype. I didn’t, don’t and never will dislike them by any means, far from it, I’ve always had a real fondness for the things. There was the red tyrannosaurus rex that wouldn’t fill with water because his throat was sealed. The dinosaurs at the museum were skeletons, which was great. The tyrannosaurus made for an imposing figure, all teeth and tail and what have you; you had to respect the tyrannosaurus, you’d be a fool not to. This was before I knew he was a scavenger; I can empathise far more readily now. He was never my favourite, though. The stegosaurus is to this day a role-model of sorts, and the pterodactyl is a far out lizard-bird. Excellent skeletons too; the pterodactyl was suspended from the ceiling. I’ll always love skeletons. I liked the diplodocus’s neck, still do sometimes, but dinosaurs were never a great passion of mine. I always preferred to play in the woods. They were much bigger in those days, and darker.Of course, it wasn’t playing; it was, dare I say it, adventure. Disbelief wasn’t a concept I was familiar with, and I’m not a great fan of it now. There was never much doubt that we’d find gold eventually, or the ghost train in the old abandoned tunnel. Our camps were bona fide settlements; there was some serious improvised engineering a little later on, and I’d be proud of it now. Prouder, maybe, and less capable. I was secretly rather excited at the thought of the gypsy girl who lured little boys off to an unspecified fate out there in the woods. Never did encounter her, though, more’s the pity.
Is it true that all such things, the dinosaurs, the woods, are part of what makes an adult, that’s to say, a fully grown human, to whatever degree of development, and that that’s their principal purpose? That the inquisitiveness, the naked wonder and the joy of children are functions of the formative years? I think someone told me something like that somewhere, sometime. I’m thinking about that red tyrannosaurus now (I called him The Tyrannosaurus). I don’t want my throat to be sealed.
5 comments:
I took my saw to my first branch. This is a better branch.
The problem with most dinosaurs is that if their heads have been moulded with a bend in their necks, so that they are forever looking to the left then they are more or less useless. So although I was in possesion of about ten, only 3 or so were viable for my games. A 'bent neck' can only go in circles, obviously. So no good.
If it is true that a boy who was abused as a child will tend to grow up out of kilter with his social peers, then perhaps it is fair to say that childhood realms must have some kind of impact. I myself feel out of kilter with reality, because I willingly spent so much time away from it as a child.
also in that picture the hind legs seem to form teh skeleton of a human within the frame of the dinosaur. Does anyone else see it?
I once recieved a postcard with a dinosaur on.
I have no idea where it was from.
I'm glad the matter of the hind-legs has come to light. I may have to rethink my whole approach to dinosaurs. I like to rethink sometimes.
Bent necks ought, at all times, in all contexts, to be avoided.
Certainly childhood has an impact on later life, but surely is all part of some grand continuum. To separate all that jazz is to superimpose bullshit, maybe. I don't know. I have Jefferson Airplane in my ears, an odd air in the room, and a thirst for a cigarette. I have yet to drink.
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