Why am I so worried about David Blaine?

I can’t help it; for some reason I feel a deep sympathy for this idiot. For those who don’t know, David Blaine is the guy who keeps pulling off these ridiculous stunts, like standing on a teeny platform for 35 hours above New York streets, or being buried alive in a glass case, or living in a block of ice or whatever. Yesterday he emerged after a week spent in a glass water-filled bubble. His skin started to peel off and he has liver damage. He was trying to break the world record for holding one’s breath, and he didn’t make it. “This was a total failure,” he told someone as they were taking him to the hospital. He was crying.

Until recently I considered Blame a freakish variation of the David Copperfield theme. The entire time he lived in a glass box hanging over the Thames, I thought, “What a moron.” I was hostile about him.

But a few days ago I saw an interview with him during which he professed him admiration for Houdini. He seemed almost catatonic, like he’d just had ECT. He struck me as a deeply sad person. Now I wonder if he might be legitimately mentally ill.

The doctors will give a statement later today about how he’s doing in the hospital after all that bubble time. They have researchers there to study the effects water submersion has on the body. Considering he sees this latest stunt a failure, is he going to be even more depressed? Why do I care?

This poster that Blaine created is a graphic tribute to Houdini, which shows he’s schooled in the history of great escapes. My question, asked while I’m stroking my chin and puffing my pipe: What, David, are you really trying to escape? Hmm?

On an entirely separate note, I was fact-checking Savage Love this week for its regular appearance in our paper, and I learned the slang definition of “houdini.” Very disturbing. (Don’t click this link if you’re sensitive about sexual politics.)

liz | 12:16 PM | Uncategorized