I realized the other day that I’m really good at impersonations—you know, pretending like you are someone else and doing what they do or say or wear or even how they sneeze. Your face kind of looks like their face. When I do that, someone looks at me and thinks I’m someone else, and they are quite amazed and think I’m oh so clever and funny.
The problem I have—a conundrum, even—is that I just don’t know who I’m impersonating. It’s like an impersonation in search of a person. A face waiting to be recognized.
Does that make sense? It doesn’t make any sense to me, but I think that’s how impersonators are. We’re a special kind of people. I’d like to know who I’m acting like, but maybe that would spoil the fun because they would chase me and want their face back, even though they already have it, but they would think I took it from them, and the whole situation would be weird. And I’d be out of breath from running.
I guess I have to face it—it’s the life of an impersonator.
