[Caution: not funny and tl;dr, if that’s all you care about]
April Fools is hard for me, the institutionalized making of something out of nothing, the propensity for tricks, for lying, for jokes. Sometimes in our world we forget there are realities not marred with cynicism, ones we cannot turn away from or append “jk lol” at the close.
Privilege affords the convenient stupor of detachment. Child soldiers? #STOPKONY, retweet, share on Facebook. Foreclosures and massive income inequities? Whaterrrrrr, homebros deserved it for being aspirational. Someone was murdered or raped or something? *YAWN* these criminals are sooo boring, bring me NEW CRIME.
So it’s even more difficult when anything happens on this day where everything is facetious. You expect to be humored: you come in with certain expectations, ready to disbelieve and discredit. The impulse is already present, magnified by some calendar changes hundreds of years ago. Like, hahaha, you must be joking today right? I know what day it is, April Fools! Lololol stop kidding around! The best one might be “that’s not funny”, as if the date itself meant open season for all sorts of ~*FuNnY*~ twists on topics not normally made light.
You know what’s not funny? My mother killed herself two years ago on April 1st. No, I’m not kidding; no, this is not some sort of twisted joke, not some practiced “offbeat” or weird humor. She died. By her own hand. No fucking jk. I don’t know who you are or why you’re reading this, but I hope you never go through the same. It’s unfathomable that two years have gone by, and this holiday will always be tough.
It’s easy to be callous, to forget about tact. I admit that I do that all the time. Everyone does. For all our talk of being empathetic, we often turn that part off in order to seem more “analytical” or “rational” or, hell, “funny”. Well, some things aren’t rational, and some things need to be felt instead of thought. We become jaded in order to avoid the overwhelmingly genuine, and in the jokes we lose our compassion.
Please remember that, and have a nice day.
i made a not-a-comic book [“oh fuck, is this what hipsters call a comic book now?”] with my friend, collaborator, and professional ass-sailer, Peter Sailer.
as you can see, it is in two parts, each with three pages:
ALSO SPRACH ZARATHUSTRA, which is best paired with the eponymous strass tonal poem of the eponymous nietzsche thing. [PLAY THAT YOUTUBE VIDEO NOW]
THE NIHILIST MOOCOW, which was first released over the summer.
enjoy! [any nyu kids and/or other people i know irl can pick up a physical copy from either myself or mr. sailer]