In
this essay, I will be mocking the notion that ephermerality (a word that
spell-check says I coined and so you must site me every time you use it!) is an
indicator of value. I will start by discussing other things that exist only for
a limited time, cigarettes, puppies, and orgasms, and pointing out that their
value comes from something other than their limited life span. Then I will proceed
to blow your mind by pointing out that things like film also share in the
ephemeral, because fucking everything you experience does, because you are an
ephemeral being, and can only experience things within the limits of mortality. So now that you know what I’m going to
say, I think I’ll go ahead and say it.
I’ll
be the first to say this: I freaking love cigarettes. It’s not just that I’m
addicted to them either, I genuinely love them. Especially now that you have to
leave whatever it is that you’re doing to go smoke them. I sit on a computer
all day, pretending to work, but then the itch creeps in, and I have to get up
to walk away from the deadening glow of my screens, and enjoy the splendor of
the out doors to smoke some tobacco. You know what sucks about smoking? It
ends. Cigarettes last about seven minutes, sometimes longer if you’re smoking
100’s, and that’s it. Ephemeral. Imagine, ladies and gentlemen and everyone in
between, that you could smoke forever. You have to live outside gently away from
youtube, facebook, tumblr, and the general blogosphere, with a smooth relaxing
smoke forever. Certainly this is not everyone’s cup of tea, but for a heavy
smoker like me, that sounds delightful. But sadly, fire destroys things, and so
every cigarette must come to an end. It’s there and then it isn’t. The halcyon
peace of your smoke break is shattered when the flames reach the filter. There
is no more tobacco left, simply ash in the can. It’s done. There is no more. Go
inside buttface, you’re break is done.
Starting with cigarettes was a silly
choice, I’ll grant that, but I hope to get you back with this section: puppies.
Look at this puppy trying to stay awake even though he’s so tired: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6A2-AuhiwI.
Oh my goodness! He’s so tired, but he can’t sleep like that! He needs to lie
down, but he doesn’t know any better! Because he’s a puppy! Puppies don’t know
yet how to be dogs! I eat a lot of Chinese food, and one time I found a thin
piece of paper in a cookie they gave me, and written on it was “Wisdom comes
from experience.” I don’t know why I brought that up, probably because of my
latent (or overt) racist personality, but the point remains: puppies are cute
because they have no wisdom! They don’t know what they’re doing! The try to
leap too far, and it’s adorable. They slip on linoleum floors, because they
haven’t learned how to be careful. Wisdom comes from experience, but the wise
are never cute like a puppy. Ephemeral. There’s this question that a philosophy
professor once asked thinking that he was clever, “When is a beard a beard?”
The idea is how many hairs does it take for a man to say he is bearded, and not
just stubbly? Or how many grains of sand does it take to make a pile? Is it
one, two, or eight thousand? (Those are your only options, pick one.) The
reason why I bring this up, is only to ask: When is a puppy a puppy? How old do
they need to get before they reach dog status? For the sake of this essay, it
doesn’t matter. What matters is that you accepted that there is a point when a
puppy is no longer a puppy without questioning this premise for a second. Now
don’t get me wrong, I love dogs, but dogs are no puppies. But it’s ok, because
theatre people will tell you that there’s an awesome something that happens or
something when things only last for not forever. The point is: THEATRE PEOPLE
HATE INFINITE PUPPIES! Punch them when you meet them, for this reason alone.
Orgasms:
who doesn’t like them? Some people, I’ve heard, but I don’t write for outliers.
For the most part orgasms are great! I had an incredibly evangelical
upbringing, and as such when to many a bible camp. Now religious folk like to
separate sheep and goats, and males and females, and wheat and chaff. My point
here is two-fold: Christians like binary separation, and I spent many a summer
in the company of young men. One “cabin meeting” that I had to experience,
included a bunch of 13 year old boys talking about what heaven is like. One guy
(I don’t remember his name but he wore a baseball cap, so if you see a guy with
a baseball cap, assume this is the guy I am talking about) asked this question:
“If heaven is like, the greatest experience ever, then how awkward will it be
to talk to girls? Cause I mean you’re just constantly coming up there.” This
cap clad bro was recognizing a universal truth: we all want to be orgasming all
the time. (Now’s the point where I look like I’m shooting my argument in the
foot, but really I’m not because I went to rhetoric school.) If we were
orgasming all the time, or had infinite puppies, or eternal cigarette breaks,
would they cease to have value? I one time read a book called Candid, and they
go to the El Dorado, and gold has no value because it is abundant. Is supply
and demand a factor in issues of value? Shit was this essay a waste of time? I
have to think about this for a bit.
Ok
everyone, I spoke with my sister, she’s a doctor, and she assures me that I
don’t need to worry about the eternity of things, because I am going to die one
day. And because of my smoking, I will be dying sooner than most. I then talked
to my brother who totally went to grad school, and he told me that every
artistic event I perceive is seen through the lens of me. I don’t know what that
means, but I’d be willing to bet that since I am existing in a limited
capacity, I can only experience films through an ephemeral lens. Even though
the movie does not change over time, I do, and so too does my interpretation.
I’m always interpreting a film as if it is happening right here right now,
because that’s the only way I can experience things, right here and right now.
When the movie ends, so too does my experience of the film. I can watch it
again right after I finish it, but I can’t step in the same river twice, sooo…
Since I can’t experience anything in an infinite way, essentially everything I
experience is ephemeral. Smokes, puppies, orgasms, plays, novels, films, and
really good hamburgers.
The
point in all this is as follows: when a theatre head tells you that theatre is
relevant because of its transience, or because it is ephemeral, please realize
they are saying nothing. Everything ends, but that doesn’t mean everything is
valuable.
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