Mahy, Margaret. The Tin Can Band and Other Poems. Illustrated by Honey de Lacey. London: Jonathan Cape, 1989, 7.

“İşte dikkat çekmek istediğimiz ilk nokta: Tamamen insana özgü olanın dışında komedi yoktur. Bir manzara güzel, latif, muhteşem, değersiz yahut çirkin olabilir; ama asla gülünç olmayacaktır. Örneğin bir hayvana güleriz çünkü onda bir insan davranışı ya da ifadesi görmüşüzdür. Bir şapkaya güleriz gülmesine ama bizi güldüren bir keçe yahut hasır parçası değil, insanların ona verdiği şekil, şapkanın kalıbını aldığı insan hevesidir.” —Bergson, Gülme- Komiğin Anlamı Üzerine Bir Deneme

The Wayans family built a comedy empire (and made Jim Carrey a star) with In Living Color in the early 90’s. Now, at last, we can peek behind the curtain into the workings of this seminal show to witness the birth of brilliant comedy, as this transcript of an early pitch meeting shows.

Keenen Ivory Wayans: Okay, people, what have you got?

David Alan Grier: Get this—Damon and I are film critics. Like Siskel and Ebert?

KIW: I’m with you so far…

DAG:Only…gay!

KIW: Wait. That’s the joke? The film critics are gay?

DAG: Yeah, that’s the joke.

KIW: I LOVE it! Run with it! *laughs* Gay men—in the entertainment industry! Who ever heard of such a thing! Y’all are killing me! Jim, what do you got?

Jim Carrey: I play a fire marshal…with severe burns!

KIW: You want people to laugh at a burn victim.

JC: Yeah!

KIW: Well, I’m laughing already! Who’s next?

Jamie Foxx: Okay, so I’m gonna play a woman, right?

KIW: But wait a minute, Jamie! You’re a man!

JF: I know! But the woman is really ugly!

KIW: *laughs, wipes tears from eyes* oh, that’s good stuff. That’s real good stuff!

JC: Oh, boss, I’ve got another one!

KIW: Keep ‘em coming! This shit is GOLD!

JC: Okay, I play a fitness instructor, BUT..she’s a woman…AND she’s ugly!

KIW: Oh, you literally cannot go to that well too many times. It’s just a brilliant concept to hang a sketch on!

Damon Wayans: Alright, get this. I’m gonna play a superhero…who is handicapped! So like…how can he be a superhero, right? And I’ll do like a cerebral palsy voice!

KIW: That’s fucked up, D. You can’t make fun of disabled people like that.

DW: Oh, I—

KIW: I’m just playing! I love it! Go write it!

“Yaşam akıp gidiyor; gerçek, o... Asıl oyun, o, doğru yanlış, akıp giden uygun.” —Vedat Türkali, Yeşilçam Dedikleri Türkiye

Emil Nolde, Flower Garden-Kneeling Woman with Hat, NGA

“Why do our lot never admit failure? Never. It might be better for us if we did. And it’s not only love and men. Why can’t we say something like this -we are people, because of accident of how were situated in history, who were so powerfully part- but only in our imaginations, and that’s the point-of the great dream, that now we have to admit that the great dreams has faded and the truth is something else-that we’ll never be any use. After all, Molly, it’s not much loss is it, a few people, a few people of a certain type, saying that they’ve had it, they’re finished. Why not? It’s almost arrogant not be able to.” —Doris Lessing, Golden Notebook

I have already made this exploration, pulled at this thread, tested this thought. Still it keeps moving. But it has given me something that I wish to try and share. I am not sharing an answer only the experience of the return from the surface.

1. Voice

Open with voice, not technology. Not style. Not vocabulary. Not literary manner. Voice is the self in relation to the world. Explore voice as disposition. Curious. Sceptical. Affectionate. Patient. Combative. A voice is not what we think. It is how we stand in relation to experience. Then move gently into confidence. Where does confidence in voice come from? Not certainty. Not authority. My own experience: • speaking publicly • radio • television • print Confidence came from confidence in the message. But confidence in the message came from believing the words were honest. Don't labour this; just plant it.

2. What Threatens a Voice?

What causes a voice to become uncertain? Ridicule. Audience anticipation. Performance. Fashion. The temptation to become a character. A distinction emerges: A message can survive contradiction. A voice can be undermined by self-consciousness. Perhaps introduce the idea that modern platforms expose voice to judgement before it has fully formed. But keep this secondary. The essay is still about voice, not technology.

3. Contradiction

The heart of the essay. Voice is not certainty. In fact, certainty often produces voices that sound strangely alike. Emerson, Orwell, Nietzche. What puts words on the page? Not answers. Contradictions. The writer discovers that they think several things simultaneously. The world presents itself in contradictions. So does the self. This is where my own experience enters. For years I have found myself returning not to solutions but to contradictions. Not because I enjoy uncertainty. Not because I doubt everything. Because contradiction is where understanding begins.

4. Contradiction as Passage

This is where my imagery lives. Most people encounter contradiction as an obstacle. I encounter it as a route. The cleft in the hill. The passage to the col. Or: Scaffolding. Contradictions expose the structure of an idea, institution, belief or social construction. They reveal where things join. Where the load is carried. Where history has become solid. I trust contradiction because it is difficult to fake. It is often where reality pushes back. A key sentence somewhere around here: The contradictions are not flaws in the system. They are the means by which we move through it. And then: Every going beyond one contradiction brings us insight into another. This is probably the deepest point in the essay. It might be worth noting: Hazlitt often begins with self. Young often begins with observation. My essayism seems to begin with a relationship between the two.

5. Surface

Only now arrive at the title. The notebook. The desk. The Surface. The phone. The platform. Each offers a different surface upon which voice may appear. But no surface is neutral. Some encourage exploration. Some encourage performance. Some favour reflection. Some favour reaction. The question is no longer what voice is. The question becomes: What conditions allow a voice to remain itself?

6. Return to Voice

Circle back. A voice is not a conclusion. A voice is not certainty. A voice is not even consistency. A voice is a continuing relationship between a self and a world that resists simplification. The writer inhabits contradiction not temporarily but perpetually. The exploration never ends because each insight reveals another horizon. The wound remains exposed

7. Ending

Very quiet. No answer. Something close to: Perhaps that is why the search for a voice never really ends. What puts words on the page is not certainty but the effort to understand how the self stands in relation to a world that continually resists simplification. Then one final turn: In an age of endless platforms, audiences and surfaces, I wonder whether the question is no longer how we find a voice, but how we create the conditions in which it can remain itself. Stop. No explanation. No moral. No “therefore”. Leave the reader standing at the col looking into the next valley. That's where the essay really ends.

How does a human being write honestly in conditions of uncertainty?

You can’t have everything. You really can’t. In this capitalist reality, you’re either poor, with just enough and mildly satisfied with life, with lots of time and energy to love and to be, or the moment you choose money—something’s going to give. Something will break if you try to still have everything.

What is the diagram for this? What’s the visual of the input and output and your body’s capacity/breaking point? I’m trying to imagine it in my head.

When you choose poverty, you are hovering in a liminal state, not quite fully participating, but spiritually—you might be able to feel a lightness. Because you’re not tied down to Kronos. Or the Machine’s numbers and profiteering game. You’re free to be able to throw yourself fully into something, disappear and be one, and therefore feel spiritually full. It’s easier to do that with the freedom of time. With the headspace, without fear. It’s not so easy to do that when you have to earn within the confines of the capitalist machine.

You try to be okay. We all “try” to make it work, but reality is something cracks. Something degrades and erodes. You cannot for example, have 2 part-time jobs, a social life, an online social life, and a long-distance relationship. No, that’s too much. Maybe, you can have 2-part time jobs, a tiny offline social life, and a long-distance relationship. But not all the previous elements. Or maybe, we just don’t have the right rhythm for it because The Machine took away our creativity. The rhyme is different. There is no reason. There doesn’t have to be.

Perhaps, after I’ve calmed down... I can let go of this story and re-imagine all of this in terms of the largeness and limitlessness of the soul. What about the spiritual life? The largeness of everything, and how all and each of us are carried and nurtured within this everything, and it’s going to be okay. Perhaps. Perhaps.

I de-activated my Instagram account. I knew it was going to happen. This push and pull. It’s really hard not to feel like I’m enough. It’s really hard not to feel like I’m giving too much again. I don’t know know what to do. I asked, and let’s see what he answers. I’m scared that the answer is… you can’t be. Not in this life.

#writing #daily #hurting