Friday, April 28, 2006


Fear And Loathing In Denmark,
Part The Third.

Joking Is Serious Business

She was gonna be a compassionate cop
and I was gonna be a drunk.
This was about 5 years ago.
We weren't in love, per se, really.
A mutual affinity, sure.
But not only was she spoken for,
I was a "Head for the bottom of the bottle"-kind of ingrate.
Yeah, I'm still drinking, right now as I'm writing this, in fact,
but there are levels of obliviousness, if you catch my drift.
I remember waking up after a party
at the home of a mutual friend...
I went straight for the leftover gin
as the sun was still struggling its way over the horizon.
She and I woke up simultaneously.
Four other bodies snored next to us.
We had a... heart-to-heart-mind-to-mind conversation.
The kind that, even when the actual words fade into sepia-photograph blurriness,
the meaning and importance of it lingers.
She put it so eloquently:
"Michael, I can never tell if you're being serious or if you're making a joke".

That is a sentence (both figuratively and literally)
that has haunted me since (and -before- I heard it expressed, come to think of it).

When do you cross the line?
And, more importantly, perhaps, where do you -mark- the line?

I still can't think of an adequate answer.

5 Comments:

Blogger udonman said...

shit what lines when im that fucked up they are usaully so blurry I cant see them hell thats how some of my greatest converstaions have come about and some of my most important discoverys about my self

ps shit micheal was wondering whats you been up to

udonman

Friday, April 28, 2006 9:23:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Michael
I've been staring at the red words on the screen and trying to form what to say for the longest while.
Here is what I think...
We mark the line at the edge of our fear,
and we cross the line when we are ready to face the fear,
shedding the defensive armor of the jokes and plunging into seriousness, naked and vulnerable.

The armor is always there, to don till we gather courage for the next time. The more we use it, the harder it becomes to take off. Yet we don't notice its increased heaviness; it becomes rather, a second skin.
It's important to remember that we are wearing it, or we'll feel misunderstood when that second skin is all that others can see.

karen

Saturday, April 29, 2006 5:22:00 AM  
Blogger Krystalline Apostate said...

karen:
Wow! My highest compliment:
Wish I'd said that.

Saturday, April 29, 2006 7:41:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

ra
Thank you.
I am both honored and humbled by your compliment.

Like the cigar that is sometimes just a cigar, jokes are often simply jokes.
But we learn so often that the comedian has turned to laughter to keep from crying. I think it's something to which most people can relate. I know it well.

Michael's comment about what his girlfriend said haunting him even before he'd heard it really touched me.
His dropping of his armor in asking the question about the line inspired me to drop my own in attempting to answer.

I'm feeling the need to come up with a joke now, b/c all this seriousness is getting uncomfortable.

Time to go, then.

karen

Saturday, April 29, 2006 8:21:00 PM  
Blogger HairlessMonkeyDK said...

Karen, your comments are right on target.
We often try to insulate ourselves from emotional pain by erecting jocular barriers.
I'll admit to being a prime example of it... hell, I wouldn't have posted this if I didn't!
But it still occasionly unnerves me, when, in unburdening my heart/spleen/other overloaded organ,
someone laughs in my face...
not out of spite, mind you,
but because they only get one
part of whatever proclamation.
Maybe it is because I can't help
but see humour, honesty and
pain as one big emotional mystery
best explored between the lines.

Sunday, April 30, 2006 4:40:00 AM  

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