“There’s no title to it.”
You know it’s funny, I think my first exposure to aliens and alienation happened in one synchronous moment. I was about five years old and my parents took me to see E.T. at the movie theater. Right away I felt some strong connection to the chocolate covered character. I was completely enamored by his vulnerability, difference and loneliness. At one point in the film E.T. is lying in some storm drain, sickly and gray, after running and hiding to avoid his persecution and inevitable dissection by human hands. In the theater, quiet whimpers and sniffles filled the air of movie goers trying desperately to subdue their deep pain and emotion. Suddenly, a loud shriek filled the air and my father jolted, turned to me and quickly evacuated me from the room. Yeah, I think that’s where I got my first taste of it. I was the alien, I wasn’t afraid to cry loudly, whole heartedly, unafraid.
Since that day, I have always known that I was different, estranged in my marriage to society. To this day I alienate myself in booze, isolated with barbed wire for a heart. I wonder how Einstein must have felt around his peers… second graders. A hundred billion galaxies, how can we be alone? E.T., my friend, we are all alone, and running from the ones who will inevitably make lab rats of us all.