First Impression: as I was using the services at Disneyworld I had to wonder, where does all the poop go? Strange to have this as a first impression. Second impression: glut. Thousands of people in fantasy world during one of the most economically demoralizing periods in history. So this is the economic downturn? How could this be? Credit cards everywhere, sliding briskly through machines. Implosion follows explosion?
And then there are the garbage claws sniffing around for any piece of anything that might soil the ground. A slice of the magic? Castles floating mid-air. Sleight of hand. Mechanical pirates, fairies, animals at how many kilowatts? But the dream. The songs. The chatter. The mass. The consumption.
Brilliance of design. A must visit for all Permaculture practitioners. Access and circulation, masterful. Architecturally diverse. Earth, water, air, fire. A money well. Reap the benefits! Parades, living stuffed animals, kids crying, laughing, just plain freaking. The memories, the characters we all know and love, the music that won’t go away. It’s a small world after all, is it not? HI HO! It’s off to work…who goes?
But my daughter. All the memories. But you know, all she really wanted was to go on the roller coaster three times, once with Daddy, once with Mama, once with Auntie. She wanted to feel her body whole, all the way to the bone. Something was amiss. Sitting in those little boats. The body can’t express the body’s need for action. How about a dip in the Carribean of the pirates? But you know, the authorities would not…
I had never been to Disney World, but had been at Disney Land in California twice before many years ago. The Magic Kingdom of Florida was a perfect replica of the Magic Kingdom of California. A clone. A duplicate. A twin. A double. A doppelganger. A carbon copy. A carbon footprint the size of a hundred thousand sneakers, shoes, sandals, squeezed into fantasy kingdoms and movie sets, boats and floats, parades and souvenir boutiques, each and every day of the year.
So Grandma buys ears for my little girl. Mickey’s ears. She is now in the club. Yes, we grew up with Annette Funicello. She had those ears too. She was pure. We all loved her. Couldn’t wait for the next dose of Tinker Bell’s angel dust. Magical.
Third impression: it was thrilling to be here and observe my little girl. She has grown so much. A striking metamorphosis. A striking succession toward an old growth forest of swirling ideas, bodily motion, song, the dance of the ages of childhood. I somehow had to afford her this dance of the Disney. What a world. Hey, what a scintillating creation of glittering surfaces, textures, hues, shadows, shapes. But lift these veils and whatta you got? Life and death reign. No one steps in the same river twice. Functional relationship, yes. But to what end? Hey come on Dad, its Disney World!
