Chicken Little: The Inside Story (A Jungian ... - Inner City Books

76 Chicken Little: The Inside Story
Chicken Little’s been a laugh to me from day one. D.’s paper had
me on the floor even before he added my two cents worth. But now
look how it’s ballooned. I think D.’s a bit nervous about where it
will take him; he can’t stand insecurity and likes to stay put. He
says if it was up to him he’d live in a hole and only come out to eat
scraps thrown to him. 83 Sometimes I think a change would do him
good, but then, I like my life as it is too. Come to that, I was attracted
to D. in the first place because he was grounded. I was fed
up with men who were up in the air. D. said he’d been there and it
wasn’t that much fun. He thinks maybe that’s why he doesn’t like
heights—if he lets himself go he’d be in outer space again in a
twink. So no wonder I was surprised, when the professor said he
was coming—as if he’d been summoned with open arms!—and D.
let it happen. Well, I just hope he can hold it together because I’d
hate to lose him.
I can only imagine what went on this morning in the sun room.
D. came down to breakfast looking like someone who’d fallen in
love and wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.
All the same, it’s gone pretty well so far. Mind you, it isn’t anything
like what I expected, but I did enjoy last night. D. puts on a
pretty good spread when he wants to. Norman’s a real surprise.
He’s a lot more solid than when he used to come to D. I always
thought of him as a klutz, a loser; he snuck in and out like he
thought he was some kind of leper. M’am this and M’am that,
when all I did was give him a cup of tea, which he proceeded to
spill on his pants. Personally I’ve always been drawn to older men,
the less hair the better. D. hasn’t got much either, it runs in the
family.
Brillig’s a funny old guy, but there’s an air about him that’s hard
to resist. I like his scent, Old Must I think it’s called, though I may
be wrong, there are so many out there you can hardly open a maga-
83 This isn’t quite what I said. I think Rachel misunderstood a passage I read to
her from Kafka: “At bottom I am an incapable, ignorant person who if he had not
been compelled to go to school would be fit only to crouch in a kennel, to leap out
when food is offered him and to leap back when he has swallowed it.” (The Diaries
of Franz Kafka, 1910-1913, p. 308) I haven’t felt that way myself since I got
together with her.