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Item 1 is something I rescued from the trash. My daughter Jacqueline, who is crazy 1 , had written this note, taped it to a present she had wrapped for St. Lucy, stored the present in her room for several weeks, and then let St. Lucy open it on her day (December 13th). She's a little hard to decipher and the paper is a little wrinkly from being balled up and thrown into the trash, so here's the sub-title:
Happy 20th Birthday
St. Lucy from the Bronx
New York City St. Lucy's Church gift
shop contents: one St. Lucy statue
with love your boyfriend Aaron Jessie
and Jacqueline Michelle Kalb and
friends.
So get this. First off, Jacqueline imagines that for her birthday, St. Lucy would like to have a statue of herself. Which sounds crazy at first, but think about it: don't you wish that somebody would give you a statue of yourself for your birthday. I know I do. (Hint, hint.)
Second off, St. Lucy died when she was 21, and you can bet that Jacqueline knows that--hence this is for her 20th birthday.
Third off, the address given is a reference to the Church of St. Lucy in the Bronx, New York, which we have twice visited. And yes, there is a gift shop. And they do sell statues of St. Lucy. And we did buy one there. Along with some other things. (But it's only open on Sundays, so plan accordingly.)
Fourth off, Jacqueline has not only imputed to St. Lucy (A Virgin) a boyfriend, but it is Aaron...The Little Drummer Boy. Specifically TLDB depicted in the 1968 stop motion animated television special produced by Rankin/Bass Productions. (Which Jacqueline will ONLY watch on VHS.) Jacqueline likes to ship characters from diverse tales. Thomas the Tank Engine goes to Hogwarts, for instance. (Gryffindor House, of course.)
To me, the most beautiful thing about this beautiful thing is that Jacqueline had no intention of showing it to anyone else. She wasn't doing it for the amusement of anyone else, she wasn't doing it because she wanted anyone else to acknowledge it. She was doing it because it pleased her to do it. And because it pleased her friends, especially St. Lucy and Aaron. (Though, as you can see from the final phrase, there were others in the shadows.) To my mind, she is a novelist who has transcended the need for an audience...which might be the purest form of the novelist...and, indeed, transcending the need for a physical record of her characters and their actions. See, this wasn't just a one-off. It's one scene in a continuing series. It's also a scene which she may return to and revise. But the only way I'll know about it is if I listen at her door or check the trashcan regularly. (And yes, I HAVE tried hiding a camera. Several times. It takes her about four seconds to find them. You really can't get that kind of shit past an autistic person.)
Item 2 is what remains of a thought I had whilst reading A History of Philosophy. Again, the writing is a bit hard scrabble, so cue the subtitle machine:
Is hunger proof of the existence of food? It sounds like a stupid question...but is it? Is it possible to want, to need, something which does not exist?
I can not want something which does exist, obviously. But can I not want something which doesn't exist? I suppose so, but it seems silly...as if I have to stretch my imagination to distort things which do exist into unfamiliar forms, just to prove that I do not want them. And, in fact, it seems that I have to make use of things that do exist and which I do not want and mate them with things which do not exist in order to not want them. So, for instance, I do not like the idea of eating eels. (Although I never have.) So if I "create" eel ice cream, which doesn't exist, I can say I don't want it--but I'm really not wanting the part of it which does exist, which would seem to invalidate the whole thing. So I'm going to suggest that we can not really not want that which doesn't exist.
The other bit, from the inside of the envelope, just says
The evolution of God from inchoate mass to wrathful warrior to kind and gentle Father.
The second part is just a thought...in a long chain of thoughts...about how the depiction of God in the Old and New Testaments of the Christian Bible seems so bifurcated. Well, trifurcated here, I suppose.
The first part I'm not so sure of. If the reasoning is true, and you can't not want what doesn't exist (am I the only one who is thinking of Sinéad O'Connor right now?), then all I can say is this: I can't claim to be a Christian at this point. I can't even be counted on to claim that I believe in (a) God. But I really want to. And if you can't not want what doesn't exist, then it seems to me that you can only want what does exist...knowhatahmsayin? I doubt that St. Thomas Aquinas took the eel ice cream approach to proving the existence of God, but I have to say, it makes as much (and possibly more) sense to me than the First Mover or the Uncaused Cause.
And in conclusion...
It also seems clear to me that there is a lot of similarity between me and my daughter. All comparison advantages go to her, but we seem to have the same kind of minds. We really just do what we do because it's what we do. I have to say, though, that I wouldn't mind having a little audience.
Hence this.
1 Just sayin', sir. And I do not say this with any hint of scorn, mockery, or condescension. Au con·traire. Admiration, envy, and aspiration to are the operant words, actually. In addition to being crazy, she is also autistic, and if that makes you feel sorry for her then you obviously have not met her. Her day beats your month. When's the last time you talked to a saint?
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