WesSolo on Journals

Sunday, July 18, 2004
Subject: WesSolo on Journals
Time: 11:46:00 PM CDT
Author: viviansullinwank

“A journal. I hate journals. The last time I consistently kept one was 1988. I graded the day and the weather. Sometimes I’d write by the dim spillage of light from a streetlamp, which is why I spend $300 a year for six pieces of thin plastic that I glue to my eyeballs every day….”

This was how I began my last journal, July 1, 2001, an angst-ridden page-turner scribbled in the aftermath of my engagement blowing up. At the time, it was true: I hated journals because usually I only kept one when I had no one to talk to about my life but myself. A journal is the ultimate tool of existentialism. This was never more true than in that converted black sketchpad that contains the year-and-a-half of hell from the breakup to my quasi-triumphant move to Los Angeles. Though during that time I had marvelous friends who sheltered me, cared for me, provided distraction from the misery that bombarded my spirit, I'm sure it's no surprise that I couldn't blurt out to them the most dank and demonized musings of a lost man. I would have alienated everyone. So I wrote for myself, exorcising a storm of analyzation and recrimination.

That journal will likely never meet with eyes other than my own. It is like viewing the gory photos of a crime scene. I may from time to time reopen the files to review the carnage, but only to prevent a similar crime from occurring. It is the best and most honest writing I have ever done, but it will never be published.

During the time of that journal I did, however, make some vanilla ‘personal updates’ to a website. Ostensibly the site was professional, containing my resume, reviews, writing, art, and pictures, but I couldn't avoid the allure of sharing a little of my life with the world. For one reason or another, though I appear to be very quiet and private in person, I've always been very willing to share my inner life with anyone willing to listen.

A few months after reaching Los Angeles I read the play Underneath the Lintel by Glen Berger, a charming one-man show about a Dutch librarian searching for the ultimate overdue book who stumbles upon a folklore legend. The myth of the “Wandering Jew” concerns a common carpenter in Judea who spurns, unbeknownst to him, an exhausted Christ with cross from his doorstep while standing underneath his lintel (the doorframe). He then is cursed to wander the earth, witnessing thousandsof years of humanity, unable to rest or identify himself until the second coming. Mr. Berger, in his afterword, examines the mind-numbing smallness of one man's journey, the barely discernible footsteps he leaves in the cosmos, and the catastrophic effects one small decision can have upon the course of that short life. However, in the face of this overwhelming anonymity, he contends that humanity inexplicably perseveres, as his Dutch librarian discovers is the case with the “Wandering Jew” he is on the trail of. Though unable to identify himself, the mythical carpenter leaves scraps of evidence of his existence, all of which are linked in some way to the most beautiful and worthy moments of human history, rather than the eons of suffering that dominate history. And since he is unable to rest, instead of walking through history, he chooses to dance. It is this defiance, ultimately, of our common fate, which links the better parts of humanity. We do not glumly shuffle through time toward the inevitable end, but rather spend every moment, whether in anguish or joy, leaving indelible traces of ourselves.

In an encyclopedia of philosophy the word sublime is described as “the presence of transcendent vastness of greatness…While in one aspect, it is apprehended and grasped as a whole, it is felt as transcending our normal standards of measurement…It involves a certain baffling of our faculty with feeling of limitation akin to awe and veneration; as well as a stimulation of our abilities and elevation of the self in sympathy with its object.”

The word sublime, the author notes, comes from “sub” (under) and “limen” (which, among other words like “limit,” is a word derived originally from “lintel”).

Not long after reading Underneath the Lintel I discovered AOL Journals. The timing was somewhat serendipitous, as I suddenly had an avenue from which to expand my footsteps into the world. Thus was This Sublime Dance created. Though it is an existential journey we all go on, trapped alone inside our bodies, along the way it is clear that we don't care about the overwhelming odds set against our spirits. We bind together, create communities, create art, create love, and defiantly dance together to the sad sweet music.

Happy Birthday AOL-J. You are a wonderful human being.

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Please click here to go to Jamey's journal and share with him your thoughts on his anniversary message.

Written by viviansullinwank Blog about this entry

This entry has 4 comments: (Add your own)

#4 Comment from floralilia
8/16/04 10:27 AM | Permalink

succulent existential wisdom...
#3 Comment from slowmotionlife
8/14/04 10:32 PM | Permalink

Amazing. Simply amazing.
#2 Comment from deabvt
8/13/04 1:39 PM | Permalink

Thanks, Viv That was great!
V
#1 Comment from merelyp
8/11/04 1:07 AM | Permalink

that's my boy.

I'm having his children.

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