Today, fellow themepunks, I’d like to introduce you to the most popular of my Disneyland photos, and one of my most popular shots overall. I snapped this one at Off The Page in Disney California Adventure in October 2009, and yes, I moved the figurines together; they weren’t positioned like this when I discovered them.
I have two reasons for posting this image here today. First and foremost is that this shot has found its way into the Tumblr/Pinterest/I Can Haz Cheezburger? realm of hazy authorship, and I need to assert my claim to this thing before it ends up being credited to some other horny idiot. Attention thieving scumbags: I have the original file and several other shots in the series, and it’s been on my Flickr page for three years–seriously, you’re gonna tangle with me on this? Commune with your fucking advice animals and let them talk some sense into you. Pinch my content and I’ll eat your heart and liver and maybe your spleen, even though it’ll spoil my dinner.
(Now seems an excellent time to remind you, savage reader, that this bl-g isn’t for kids. Also, I’d like to express my gratitude to Heather at I Can Haz Cheezburger?, who responded to my pissy email with more politesse than it deserved. LOListan is truly a good-hearted commonwealth. Many thanks!)
The other reason I’m posting here today is because I think the October 2009 visit that produced this irresistible image may have been my last trip to Disneyland. I can’t believe it, either. I’ve been to Walt Disney World twice in the last three years, and I’ve enjoyed my visits there–but I haven’t been back to the theme park(s) that inspired the creation of this bl-g for nearly three years, due to financial hardship and simple bad luck.
Naturally, I miss it. I miss the ways it feeds, and feeds on, my imagination. Some criticize Disney’s theme parks for being tightly-controlled experiences; they compare it to stuff like Burning Man, where you can pretty much write your own dusty-dicked adventure from start to finish. I’m not criticizing that–in fact, I’ve just agreed to attend my first Burn next year, in spite of my intense dislike of portable toilets. But it’s unfair to criticize Disneyland or Disney California Adventure for telling stories in their own way. No two people hear stories the same way. And where someone else sees a shelf of expensive figurines from Disney’s animated movies, I see this:
And that’s what Disneyland has always been about, to my thinking: It’s whatever you bring to it. If you’re a collector, you see the shopping. If you’re a parent, you see the Park through your children (or through the giant, smoking crater in your wallet). And if you’re like me, you see the artistry, the detail … and the coincidences. You look for these magical coincidences, and if you’re lucky, every so often you get a photo of one of them.
I’m happy to say that I’m a full-time working journalist once again. (You can read my stuff at Vegas Seven, a Las Vegas alternative weekly magazine, if you’re into that sort of thing.) And I’m closer to Disneyland, financially and spatially, than I’ve been in years. If I wanted to, I could drive there right now; it’s only three to four hours’ drive from Las Vegas to Anaheim, and the two-hour line for Radiator Springs Racers.
But today, I find it’s enough to want it. In a way, missing Disneyland fills the heart as much as actually being there does. The imagination stretches beyond the berm; you wonder what it would be like to go there with a friend who hasn’t been there yet (I yearn to be the Ray Bradbury-like guide to someone’s Charles Laughton), or you wonder if there’s something there you haven’t yet seen–some strange and wondrous coincidence, waiting to jump in front of you and challenge you to take its picture.