We secretly all want to eat glue. We wall wonder what exactly it will taste like and just how it will react in our bellies. We are envious of those who have tried, even as we put them down for being so unthinkingly gross. We want to believe that they are less intelligent than us who do not eat the paste, but we really want to be in the club. We would, if it were more socially acceptable, take the lids off of those kindergarten glue containers and pour it over our hands. We would let the fake skin dry and peal it off and then lick our fingers clean. We just wish that were possible, that we felt justified in the experiment.
We do not profess this wish. We do not even hint at it. We keep it hidden with our hope for people to break out into song and choreographed dance in the middle of a walking mall. It isn’t one that we have to constantly think about, but when we are presented with an opportunity to taste that milky white liquid, we are tempted to dip our fingers in and touch them to our lips. Perhaps the need is not even a conscious one, but still it is there. And we should give in to it. We should eat the glue when we have a chance.
We shouldn’t do it because of the taboo or because we would like to finally know just how gross it truly is. We should eat glue because of how fleeting our time is to do spectacular and peculiar things.
When I add up the time that I spend retelling the days events to my wife and working on things I have been assigned and playing with my kids and watching incredible television programs like The Wire and the hundreds of other important things I want to fill my life with, there is so little time left for strange instincts and courageous inclinations. If I don’t follow those then they will never be done.
Perhaps, some things should never be done. Perhaps those instincts from our childhood should not be indulged. But still, they persist. They are too pure and precious to give up so easily.They don’t represent what we used to be or what we desired before we knew better. They are the raw curiosity that is bred into each one of us. They are the complete submission to a question that is required to find anything great.
Here is how I know:
My 4 year old daughter said today: “I don’t want to ever die.”
And I replied, “Let’s see what we can do to make sure that it never happens.”
And I mean it, too.
The only way we are ever going to find the cure for cancer or the key to making a copy of our consciousness is by taking the glue bottle in hand and taking a huge and completely satisfying swig.