This Week's Laughter #45
An archive in a wah di joke yah tarl
We resort to a time-honored tradition here in writing about laughter by means of documenting laughter. I know, it can be hard to believe sometimes, that a writer can stay on-topic for longer than a moment. And even here, I might be tempted to push further yet, to stray toward the direction and fuzzy light of detailing writers and the writing mindset and the pursuit of curiosity and the celebration of a mind’s desired fields. But, no.
A wah di joke yah tarl or awdjyt allegedly is a creole text for laughing in a shocked and amused type of way. And I think this week has had its share of shocked and amused laughs.
We hosted dear friends Andrew and JD over for the first time in too long, and had one of those pleasant nights where we really didn’t ultimately talk very much, instead delighting in each other’s company, watching silly things on the television, eating some good food, and being on our delighted ways. There are few people in my life who I feel truly comfortable sitting in relative social silence with. Part of this is a compromise that there are many people in my life who I am so eager to learn more about. And part of this is a security in knowing that one won’t walk away feeling unsatisfied by an evening spent mostly quiet. I don’t think it’s especially odd or noteworthy - I think many people experience this discomfort or insecurity - however, in my head I pair it with the fact that I don’t make a habit of watching many movies. The connection being that if I did, I’d have frequent opportunities to sit adjacent to a cherished one where we absorbed something for hours and didn’t really acknowledge each other much at all. So, practice. And what’s life for if not to practice yet more living? So this was laughter at its core but instead of a burbling, vivacious laugh that resounded through the rooms and streets of being, it was the first gurgle of it from the gut into the throat. The birth of laughter.
I did absolutely nothing for the fourth of July. There’s nothing in America to be celebrated right now. Damned empire, harbinger of apocalypse. I did play some gay soccer that evening. The assortment who showed up together playing in some hodgepodge of teams. I played in a mini-game to begin with where we were trying to shoot the balls into hula hoops at the top corners of a goal. I was the closest one to being successful and so I won an ice cream gift card. And then I played an, I think, quite good game.
It didn’t take as long as I thought it would to replace my vocal habits during sport competitions. I used to be so critical of myself. Shits and fucks when I played erroneously. I still do every now and then, I’m quite aware of my play and what I could or could not have done in any given moment but I think that is less resolved through sport and more an acknowledgment of who I am in life that self-awareness carries with it a physical manifestation as much as it does an emotional-spiritual-social manifestation. But in this game I was laughing at my missed opportunities or mistakes. Well, at them would imply a directionality of purpose that is misaligned. I was laughing through my errors. And I hope that as my feet kicked up the turf through each stride pressing into the field, the movements I carried with me held something of a laugh to them too.
Heather and I went over and visited with friends Cora, Niko, and Harrison which was an endearing evening. Cora and Niko had recently purchased a highly-efficient wood stove for roasting smores and what not in the backyard. So we did! They found some vegan marshmallows that, surprisingly, had no fat to them so I could eat them. And Niko introduced the concept of putting fresh strawberries on the smore, which of course would be delicious, and of course felt revolutionary. What are all of the conjugational forms of gossip? Gossip, gossiped, gossiping, gossipers, gossipasta, gossipandemonium, gossipalooza? We went around and said nice things about each other for hours. Sometimes you laugh loud enough in a backyard for the neighbors to hear. Sometimes you laugh loud enough for God to hear.
And sometimes you recognize that it is okay for you to adjust your wedding in ways that are meaningful to you. To ask things of others in ways that respect their autonomy to say yes or no, and to recognize that it is okay to ask to be loved. In realizing how I yearn to celebrate myself, my love, and my loved ones, I am also realizing how much I withdraw in most social interactions. That I don’t fully engage out of fear of burdening, or because while I feel I can be a supporter, I don’t know if that allows me to be a friend.
This is to say: I organize events and connections for so many, I spend so much of my life making space for others, that I, for whatever reason, felt odd recognizing that the friendship I hold of people whom I hug whenever I see them at events or readings is one-and-the-same friendship I hold of the friends who I’d invite over to watch silly youtube videos, or go out for an evening park walk with. As though there are classifications and quantifications and categorizations of friendship that make one variant more or less acceptable than others. As though friendship is something that needs justification. An event that helped me to this realization is listening to dearest JD speak with Gabby about our D&D adventures - boasting about how my poet-bard character I play wrote an entire book of poems in-character for our party. Hearing them talk about it as a labor of love, and realizing that there are ways for us all to connect through love. So maybe in this way laughter is love. And maybe this is the revelation of the week if any are to be found.
The last laugh I will leave with you is more a general notion. I’ve been obsessively photographing the greenery and landscapes of the city once more. Seattle is fully into its season of radiant glory, its season of gilded-lipped verdancy. And its people are behaving appropriately by getting outside. It is a joy to be surrounded by such life. And that joy not infrequently makes me laugh to myself on walks up hills, around corners, through markets and weaving through crowds in parks. I will always look the crazy one laughing to themself. And I will always hold the gaze that follows suit like I would the hand I am consoling, whispering Yes, yes, it is all so bad and yet the laugh still comes out.
Love to all of my readers, enjoy your weeks dears.
