Humor

A man walks into a bar with a chunk of asphalt under his arm. He says to the bartender: "I'll have one drink for me and one for the road."

Here is today's story, straight from my source: Uncle Bouqui and Little Malice. What really struck me about it was how funny it was. It takes a lot, I think, for something written in a book to be really funny, especially when that thing was originally told as a story. I'm sure someone telling the story of Uncle Bouqui and Little Malice well could have his audience rolling with laughter pretty much the whole time. It's a very special gift, this particular aspect of good storytelling, and it's one I'd really like to nurture in myself.

I was riding home with some friends tonight from a very somber play (Sleep No More if your interested - in a league of its own regarding storytelling), and we spent most of the time telling each other really terrible jokes. Sure, we were all exhausted, so that helped, but a lot of the fun of it came from how we were telling them. A stupid joke told poorly is no fun. A stupid joke told well is hilarious, or at least worth a groan, even if the audience has heard it thousands of times before. I was reminded of a kind of Japanese theater called Rakugo that seems to work on the same principle. Unfortunately English examples of it are sparse, but what I've seen of it suggests that it's all in the storytelling. The performers use a very few props, and act out different characters in silly ways, all leading up to one very simple, often predictable punchline, but it's hysterical if done well.

My drawing professor is asking us to examine the role that humor can play in our work this week, so I think I'll be focusing on it for a little while here as well. It feels a bit strange to be taking on this topic when, I'll admit, I haven't been very happy lately. Yes, plenty is going well for me, and I'm very very grateful to be surrounded by people I love, but there's been a lot of bad news in my life lately, for myself and people I care deeply about. That being said, I've always been of the opinion that a good sense of humor has its place in even the most dire of times, or when dealing with difficult subjects, and maybe even especially then. Some people insist that there are some things that shouldn't ever be the subjects of jokes, and I respect that opinion, but on the other hand I would insist that humor is often the healthiest way to deal with unfortunate but inevitable truths. If something makes me uncomfortable or, frankly, scares the hell out of me, I joke about it. I make fun of it. It takes away the power of a fear and makes me feel in control and less confined by what scares me.

Why

Today was not an easy day. It started when I read a Grimm fairy tale, The Strange Musician, that seemed to me yet another divisive, frivolous tale encouraging conflict over communication, an upsetting change from the Japanese stories I had been reading for a few days. I began debating with myself whether it was even worth it to keep reading the Grimms' stories, or whether all I would ever learn from them would be contrary to the lessons they seemed to be trying to teach. Unfortunately, with this minor conflict clouding my mind, I was later brought two very sobering pieces of news, the first being that a child at Lemberg had lost a family member in the Haitian earthquake (which, much to my dismay, I was just learning of this afternoon), and the second being that my paternal grandmother's health had gone into even further decline from its already precipitous state.

With such things hanging over my head, I naturally began to question the nature of the work that I'm doing with this blog. In times of great sorrow, do children's stories and folktales really have any place in our daily lives? Can I read silly fantasies with simple morals when events in the real world are so grave and require such immediate attention? The answer, of course, is yes, and this answer attests to the real, fundamental reason why these stories are important. Whether or not we agree with all of their messages, these are the stories that survive in our culture and have survived for ages, tying together often conflicting generations through common knowledge and belief. What's more, and particularly relevant now, is that these stories transcend cultural divisions, tying our world together as powerfully as mourning or grief. It is with this in mind that I will be reacting to this global tragedy in the only way I know how, by strengthening the bond with my fellow humans most affected by this tragedy and exploring the culture so hard hit by this disaster. In the coming days, weeks, and maybe even months, I'll be seeking out whatever recorded examples I can find of Haiti's rich folkloric tradition, through the internet and whatever books I can find. This will be an intermittent sub-project whose threads will weave together with everything else I seek to do in this blog, so please be on the lookout in future entries as I compile and read through my sources in order to integrate them with the rest of my materials. I urge you as well to reach out to those around you whose lives have been touched by the tragedy, in any way you see fit. Go with your heart and you will find the human soul that links us all. Thank you for reading, and please be safe.