A woman I'm discovering, from the early-mid twentieth century, Sidonie Gabrielle Colette, said, "total absence of humor renders life impossible." And I'm going to pursue tonight's blog on this bent. Seeing as I'm on a Colette Slant.
I won't delve into the luxuries of her lesbian affairs. Or her life. Or works, even. I just want to render some truth to this idea, which we all know is true, but could, alas, use some rendering. Life has been difficult, for all of us. There are times when I just want my mind to halt, and go Kaput. Not in the comatose sense, or la somnambule sense, more in the, I just want to be something vital, without thought, sense. At moments, like now, I'm through with being tormented, would prefer this depression eased its grip, and let me walk alone, through what I do not know.
To make a joy of sorrow and a sorrow of bliss, this is absurdness. Quotidian thought of the night: we need humor. At times, it's hard to realize. When we're in the throes of loss and sadness and violence, we do not really want to laugh. But, the awareness of joy is made all the more prevalent. I'm not going to go into the ying-yang theory. Nothing of that sort. But I will say, seeing as joy is really sorrow's antithesis, it's only in the throes of sorrow that we can really appreciate joy. I've lost this. Somehow. I've become pulled by Scylla and Charybdis, into some confining free-fall (whirlpool) of shame and monstrosity. I'm sure you'd like to hear of things other than my sadness, pain, lugubriousness, etc., But, I have been guilty of letting joy flit away. And being aware it's there, all the while, aware and made the worse for it; for it had the guile to fly, and I have the guile to sit still.
People offer some scintillating suggestions. Get buzzed. Get high. Get yourself unleashed in every possible way. But, I'm seeking something else. I want humor back, only, when it is back, to realize it was never away. And I think it's this awakening that I'm stumbling upon tonight. The joy never ceases. I can have one of those brains science says is wired to be pessimistic, but, that joy exists, that humor exists, makes life so much more... palatable.
I came up with that bit earlier on, to make a joy of sorrow and a sorrow of bliss, this is absurdness, after reading Daniil Kharms. Daniil grasped this idea. And, while I'm just learning about it all, the absurd, the way to compact a story to a paragraph, without saying anything of the protagonist except, let's not speak of him anymore, and still making it relevant, people are making it omnipresent. Omnipresent and all powerful. I think one of the things every writer must learn, is that, no matter how sorrowful your work is, there must at least be an intent of humor. An awareness of it, albeit slight or intense. I learned this writing my first manuscript/novel, and yes, I still need to send out queries, revise them more specifically. There's tragedy to it, part of its inspiration comes from King Lear and that lovely British poet of the nineteenth century John Clare, more specifically his sad and probably most famous poem, I Am, but despite this, despite all the tragedy, Cordelia and Gregory and Myrhna (my big three), still have the gall to pull a Lysistrata, on the men of Loonali, that, and put on a kick ass gala, with Gregory stripping to nothing, wearing a boa and lipstick, in a world where sexuality becomes a thing of... absurdity.
My book would lack were it not for that scene. And I believe this is true of so much in life. We'll have science tell us the truth. That we're really an end result of chemistry and biology, processes in our brains that really do exceed us. So, sometimes sadness seems the only option; but, just as silence is louder than sound, sadness is more joyous than bliss. And, I wonder, sometimes, if we could get to a point where we stop being the end-result. Where we stop being the effect of our brains, recognize how everything is functioning, and embody a world where the "effects" of joy and sadness are more appreciated for their slippery cores. For knowing where it all comes from, but not knowing too. Because, again, we are enveloped in the everness of neverness.
Given this, what can we do, but laugh? The world is so incredibly ridiculous, so ridiculously sad and unjust, maybe laughter is the only shrift and justice we are given. And can give.
I'll leave you all with that thought tonight, as I go in half an hour to dabble in The East End. And please excuse me if my blogs this weekend are incredibly brief, (shall I be a windbag like Polonius now?), but, I'll be quite busy. So, I may not even post. You'll have to do without me, then. I imagine this won't be hard; just remember, if you want me at all in your gut or mind, life is not a mirror image of we, us. What separates us/we from the rest of the world, from death, from resistance, is a sheet of thin glass. To break, or not to break? THAT, my dears, is the question.