Buried deep in the Pacific Northwest, under coffee beans and Fleet Fox records, Ballerball was able to uncover a vast number of writings from Shawn Kemp’s old diary. These are his words.*
December 12, 1995
I just saw Toy Story. My goodness. That film, Diary, it was just incredible.
I’d had no interest in seeing it, really. It’s a children’s movie, or so I thought, and I am far from a child, but I went to the cineplex to get a ticket for Braveheart and I was turned around on showtimes. Stupid newspapers. Anyway, they were thirty minutes deep into the 3 o’clock showing of Braveheart already and I was worried I’d have missed too much. Supposedly those first thirty minutes establish, like, everything. I looked to see what was else was on and Toy Story was it. I had an afternoon to kill and I’d already been by Foot Locker to see what they had to offer — copped me a pair of those Air Max 95’s — so why not give this movie a chance. I can at least get popcorn.
I’m so happy for paper’s mixup.
I walk into the theater and it’s just me, an elderly lady, and a small child. Perhaps she was his grandmother. They sat down front as she announced to no one in particular that she had a hard time seeing, and I sat in the back because I am not weak and have the eyes mutant eagles and the heart of ten lions.
This world I was transported to, one where toys can live and breathe and think and love and feel and hate and envy, it’s like our world. Of course, their dinosaurs are nicer. Haha.
When they escaped the clutches of Sid I leapt up and out of my chair and lifted my hands in euphoria. Oh, safety! Oh, joy!
It’s interesting. I’ve often felt that myself and Gary do not have a lot in common. I’ve resented him at times. He talks so much. I think people in the media think he’s better than me. George gives him a pretty long leash. But I’ve never given a great deal of thought to the idea that if we work together, him bringing what he brings to the table and me bringing what I bring, then we might be able to work wonders.
I’m obviously Buzz, though. I can’t fly, but it sure seems like I can. Lol.
I called my mother when I got home. I asked her to please not throw out my old teddy bear, King Jerry. It’s like, I know it’s just a movie, but what if. And King Jerry was my best friend. I feel bad now. Like, he needs to know I still care about him. KJ, man. I got to call her back. Have her mail him to me. Love never stops.
Talk soon, Diary.
*These aren’t his words.