Kinesics |
Issue 6
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The entire tone of the interaction leaves much to be desired.
The Nightmare On Elm Street house behind the young man adds to the queer air. Leading questions should be shelved during encounters of this nature, the lack of professionalism glaring. Let’s go a little further. In a spartan room designed to elevate anxiety, we might as well be throwing darts against the wall. This should never be openly stated. Please note that the people involved in this story were never formally diagnosed with mental illness. So what is this? The body language comes in handy: clusters of indicators: discomfort, uncertainty, dread. Slouched slightly forward but with arms crossed indicates unease. The rapid head nodding could be an unconscious stab at appearing agreeable-cooperative, but active self-soothing isn’t out of the question. Reserved and unemotional young men speak in monotones with mouth shrugs—conveying messages of indifference or self-loathing, the lack of affect an affect, or evidence of drug abuse or an instrument of genuine derangement or social media-induced zombification. Allow him to talk as much as possible. He sounds like a pretty regular guy. Then quirks emerge. Entirely motionless and monotone he offers information that needs more digging, but the interrogators suffer from their own personality disorders. They want to get away from this God-forsaken town and move north to Canada. They say Canada is a cool cold country. That is an alternative theory of their attitudes. The subject keeps his eyes on the table and nods as incriminating details mount. The emotional instability theory lacks merit. Lots of time spent in musty basements on screens—but the key to the house was never lost. No one answered the phone or the knocking. Trust issues, father dilemmas, missing teeth, insurance policies. Someone had leaped off a bridge. A door creaks, the subject left to stew. A commonplace for them to groan and weep when left alone, shedding the steely mask. But indeed, the sudden sobs and tears seem unbecoming of a beast. |
SALVATORE DIFALCO lives in Toronto.
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