I wrote a facebook status that read “someone died tonight…I was there…and we were all dancing.” Ten hours later someone wanted to know whether I meant it literally. Around 3 a.m. at a party that probably violated many city laws, a girl either jumped or fell from a roof. Whether she died or was just severely injured – I have no idea. However, I know that no one in my group of 10 really cared. And that today I am struck by how inured we can be to human suffering, in fact, the very sad reality of human tragedy. When the girl fell, we had only been at the party maybe 2 or 3 minutes, but had each just paid $10. Our greatest concern as people were fleeing to their cars, afraid of the police and being found at the scene of the blood, was getting our money back.
We raced around the parking lot, looking from face to face, trying to find the person who took our money. He was inside of the house, visibly shaking, and when we confronted him – he literally almost threw our money back. His said,”a girl just fell from the roof, how can you worry about something petty.” He was right, but I felt a certain satisfaction and in fact a small triumph as I slipped my twenty back into my pocket. This night had become a metaphor for the sweet life. Earlier I had a moment of intense depression. I had journeyed to my old school, visited old friends, witnessed the death of one of my favorite galleries, and now here I was with a chance to win my night back, and even if a drunken girl fell from a roof at a party – I wasn’t ready to call it quits.
Walking quickly, still a bit intoxicated, perhaps slightly in shock and overwhelmed by it all, we fled to our cars as the ambulance came. We drove to a friend’s apartment with a great view of downtown, and we danced. Afrobeat, salsa, meringue, Harvey milk projected on the blinds, white Christmas lights, cans of millerlite, beautiful girls in garters, guys excited to meet the satorialist, in the early morning, hidden in Dallas, strangers one and all, we danced. We basked in the hormones that watching death gives off, and our hearts beat, and we felt part of something, breathless, full of wonder, we danced and it was exactly the type of moments that young artists hope for.
Yet, the weird feeling, the thing that kept bothering me, was that a girl did die. And her death was inexplicably tied to my night being redeemed. That without her presence, this mysterious extra member, this night would not have crossed the edge into sublimity. Without her, our dancing would not have had meaning. I would not be here struggling to make sense of youthful exuberance interrupted by mortality. I would not be trying to understand my own selfish attempts to shake jadedness in order to feel alive. But perhaps the most important thing is that the night was beautiful and the moment did have weight and that it was joyous, and pure, and mysterious.
And that someone did die tonight, and that I was there, and we were, indeed, all dancing.
Today I had a fascinating exchange with a cute twenty-something elementary teacher who was playing with her phone.
"Hey why does your phone look so fancy?"
*SILENCE*
"What kind of phone is it?"
"It's a G1"
"Wow that sorta sounds like a plane"
Most people who know me would attest to my general eloquence, cleverness, and wit. Maybe they would also attest to a supreme confidence bordering on arrogance and conceit but I digress.
The point is that this was not my highest moment.
In fact it was objectively quite stupid.
Which made me realize: talking to a cute girl make you at least 10% more stupid than normal.
I am sure the same thing applies to talking to a cute guy.
Let's call this the 10% cute girl rule. Seriously. Am I alone here?
Also in other news what is up with the catholic church?
Indulgences. How are you going to bring back indulgences!?!?!???
Don't they realize these things caused the protestant reformation. (Yes Luther wasn't upset about the Virgin Mary, he was fed up with the church selling indulgences)
For the 98% of you who have no clue what I am talking about (hooray for 8 years of catholic theology) indulgences are a get out of purgatory free card. Basically you go to church, you take your communion, you go to confession, you get an indulgence and you don't have to waste time in purgatory doing punishment for that particular sin.
A sinner like you and me can get one indulgence a day - maybe two on holidays.
Seriously. I don't even believe in purgatory and I think this is a joke.
The bigger point here is that this marks another move to the re-radicalization of the Catholic Church. If you haven't been following it check out here and here.
We have been blessed to live under a church that has, until recently, been governed by Vatican II. This was a nicer, kinder, more accessible Catholic Church than in centuries past. But all the good works that Pope John Paul II has done is being undone and the church is moving more and more towards the conservative right.
(Someone needs to write a post about how Pope Benedict XVI is the Darth Vader of the Catholic Church. Where is George Lucas. This guy, then by the name of Cardinal Ratzinger (I remember reading essays by the dude back in high school, to this day I refer to him as Cardinal Ratzinger) was all about some Vatican II. Heck, he helped write thing at 35. Might as well have called him Anakin. But somewhere along the way he turned to the dark side, Latin Mass, check, reinstate bishops, check, don't immediately yell at holocaust denier, check, bring back plenary indulgences, check. I am seriously going to keep a lookout for the construction of the Death Star somewhere deep in the catacombs of Rome)
The long term consequences of a reinvigorated radical right Catholic Church are huge. If the church continues its trek towards the right I am making the bold prediction that we will see a religious war involving Catholics and another Christian denomination in the next twenty years.
Although maybe that is just the curse of the Abrahamic religions - we are destined to fight each other until God comes again.
Finally, I walking around the campus of University of Dallas today (the first person to catch the irony and leave a comment will get mailed an official Art Star mix CD) and visited the Haggerty Arts Village. I checked out the gallery show, surprisingly good, and then saw this girl painting in her studio.
Suddenly it hit me - how absolutely absurd it is to try to be an artist. You sit in some small space painting images on a blank rectangle in some obscure part of the world and you think that by doing this every day you are contributing to society, you will get fame and recognition, and that your life has meaning!?
I mean - the balls!
How much faith must it take to believe that the images you create can mean anything and that you couldn't spend your time being more helpful to the world doing something else.
Seriously if you are an artist, take a step back, and objectively look at what you do and please realize how objectively it is patently absurd to decide to take 7 years of your life (assuming you get a mfa) and paint in some room and think that anyone really gives a damn.
It is almost as absurd as blogging.
XOXO Gossip Girl
