August 3, 2012
When I was small, I had so many stuffed toys, and I believed each one of them to have thoughts and feelings just like me. I recall my father trying to correct this misconception and I asked him why they couldn’t have feelings.
“No brain. They have no brain!” he said, looking at me just slightly as if I might also suffer from brainlessness.
It’s sometimes hard to shake things we believe as children, and so it was that I saw this chair and didn’t know if I should laugh or cry.
After the horror wore off, the DIY part of my brain kicked in and I began to regret throwing out all those toys. Probably a good thing, as I can just imagine the scene that Steve would walk in on: me, hunched over a work bench, stuffing everywhere, wretched jagged sobs falling from me as I slowly gut my little friends.
Maybe I’ll just enjoy the pictures.