Waking Finnegan

“We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our whole life is rounded with a sleep” ~ Shakespeare

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Location: zurich, Switzerland

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Tru Fiction


I'm at another redbrick loft party---this time in Zürich.

Sitting on a great velvet sofa with a wrapped foot propped on a big plastic ball. "A helluva hullaballoon" I say to the misplaced old man sitting next to me. He looks over at me slowly and then slumps forward and begins nodding his head in slow affirmation.


G, a former student, approaches me with his size 9 head and a leotarded entourage of feline dancing girls. He says "I'm really and Truly Capote, so go lightly...hahaha!...and as soon as I get his punch-line, a rim-shot with accompanying laugh track has everyone around me getting swept up in his mesmerizing party persona.

Little balloons, Lawrence Welk bubbles and confetti rise and fall in opposite directions like a great Broadway homecoming celebration. I'm wondering how G has attained this savoir faire. And where did he acquire his gumbo patois? Wondering why such a small brain needs such a big head. Questions.


Harper Lee (Keener from the film) is calm and measured and telling me the real story about "This here G's the one who manipulated Perry Smith's dreams---hypnotized him so he'd enter the Clutter home. That way he'd have his true fiction and become the sort of person his father feared. It's like you and your own fake father". This last remark taps the memory of some long-ago fictional father I'd fashioned out of Mr. Green Jeans from Captain Kangaroo. How could she possibly know? I'm wondering if this fictional father of mine might have been the real Mr. Clutter who was murdered in Kansas. I'm not certain whether the murdered family was Truman's or mine.

And now I'm brooding about Captain Kangaroo and that terrifying Dancing Bear who used to haunt my dreams with its terrible eyes. Was it a he or a she? Who was inside?

The fake Truman (G) saunters over with a wry smile and a tray full of drinks and makes a pun about my injured foot: "What a lovely supporting cast! May I sprinkle some fairy dust on it?" He pulls out a fancy felt pen and gestures calligraphically in the air and says "Now, where do I put my autograph?"