the yellow-cotton smell
The reality of it is that Binx just isn’t that great a listener, much as he flatters himself otherwise. However, The Moviegoer does convey the urgency of such an activity. Collecting bits of other people in forms as whole as possible, carrying them around with you as an aid to personal growth and development — perhaps this at least lines the edges of what it means to be a human being.
I’ve always wanted to be a psychologist. I don’t know how well I’d do at patting backs and handing out tissues, trying to analyze and aid simultaneously, but I can think of nothing more I’d like to do with my life than sit in a small room and listen to people share their stories all day. At the end of the day, I’d pack all the new humanity inside myself and go home to cook dinner. It’s a lovely fantasy. Sometimes I wonder, though: would it be stealing to collect my own experiences via others? Would it be parasitic or cowardly? Would I miss the precious opportunity to create my own story?
Binx has his own story, it’s true. But there are so many pieces tacked on for their own sake that it’s hard to discern his own truth. What does that mean?
