Edition 02: CHAOS

A dedication by Jo and Bumsita

Dedication from Jo

Chutes Too Narrow, The Shins, Track Two

When I thought about what to write for this edition’s introduction, my mind went in lots of possible directions--it has (fittingly) been a chaotic few months, a whirlwindish and balmy spring giving way to the garish heat of summertime in Kansas.

In the last month, I have been in Kansas and not. I have been in Washington. I have been in Oklahoma and Missouri. I have been in Iowa. I have been in my bedroom. All of these places I “have been.” I think there is more wrapped up in this humble syntax than meets the eye. It implies not only the casual meaning with which we typically employ it, but also the most basic nature of human life -- simply being.

I recently enjoyed an outdoor production of Twelfth Night, and on this watching, what stood out to me most was a short exchange between Sir Toby and Sir Andrew:

     Sir Toby: Does not our life consist of the four elements?

     Sir Andrew: Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists of eating and drinking.

     Sir Toby: Thou’rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. 

In typical Shakespearean fashion, a rather catholic truth is communicated via a character primarily constructed for comedic relief. The line brought a laugh, yes; but with it, possibly something more? The fact of the matter is, so often our lives do consist of the simplest acts of existence -- to eat, to drink, to sleep. No matter where I go, there I am. Eating, drinking, sleeping.

Often when we as writers take on a new project, what follows is a plague; the burden of profundity, the task of saddling the highest horse. What do I want to say? What do I have to contribute that has not already been said? These particular days, frankly, I am less and less concerned with those questions. What matters to me is the being and doing of writing itself. I am in the practice of writing, for myself (and inevitably, inexplicably) I will continue to write, whether I have something to say or not. What comes from that, perhaps will touch a nerve. (If so, bless it). In the meantime, I’m giving up on my proverbial equestrian tendencies, and I’m going to eat some tuna straight out of the can.

All my love,

jo

Dedication from Bumsita

Spring is branded as the season of growth—which in all fairness, isn’t inaccurate, as much as an incomplete take. The blooming flowers and baby rabbits that define this season here in the northern hemisphere would, if we could understand, tell us it also has to do with fighting for survival. Resources are limited and predators abound. Winter is a slow and internal time, and at its closing the world shoots up in bed with two fists raised. It is chaos—natural chaos. Jo and I loosely had this in mind from the outset of this edition, and it seemed appropriate to christen it with “CHAOS”. The byline of this edition, “God I just want to be creative but all my energy is being used to survive”, came from a Britney Spears meme I found about a week after publishing WINTER/INVIERNO. It’s been a long time since I’ve prescribed to any specific religious orientation, but I think the statement is relatable to anyone who has tried to make art while knowing rent is due.

The two pieces I’ve submitted this edition are written, and both turned out to be a loose mix of fiction and nonfiction. The first, Poverty or a Guided Meditation for Getting a Groupon Facial, was written in the midst of a literal fever spurred by personal economic crisis. Due to reasons outside of my control, and that I would prefer to not revisit, I did’t receive a paycheck for roughly ten weeks. On week eight my body couldn’t take it anymore and I came down with a nasty respiratory illness. I was furious and hopeless, and pounded it out in writing. I wrote Poverty across two particularly aggressive days, where I was unable to sleep, breathe, or eat comfortably. I eventually recovered, though I still have a lingering cough in the mornings.

Believers is my longest piece of non-academic writing to-date, and working on it was the first time where I have felt like a “writer”. I spent essentially the entire season obsessed with the subject, in constant discussion with myself about how I would write the thing. It began in my mind as a piece of straight journalism—intrepid writer taps in to local ghost hunting scene—but this conceptualization was swiftly abandoned when I realized the personal reckoning that needed to be done first. I had to think about what made up belief itself—and what was my relationship to it. I also used the “patchwork” approach to launch myself softly in to pure fiction. The section about the fake Bigfoot video is the first short story I’ve ever written.

There were many times during the completion of the first edition where I experienced “synchronicities” in my creative process. This doesn’t seem to be a fluke; I have had countless on the road to creating CHAOS. I had been working on the piece for two months before I literally happened upon a book at the public library about how William James, the founder of my discipline, studied the paranormal. I hadn’t had any idea. From there I came to find out that James’ most influential philosophical writings concerned belief—it’s nature, utility, and how it can be inappropriately conflated with foolishness. Synchronicities compounded when I learned that his theory of the paranormal relied on the inherent chaos of the universe. It could be argued that James is a collaborator on this edition. Writing this now, I feel like crying, as I know myself to be far less alone. 

I am a writer. I know this from how I sit in my home and drink coffee and eat plain saltine crackers and write, sometimes for the whole day. Yet a significant part of me fears that by making that statement I am somehow jinxing myself from ever truly being that thing. I keep waiting for some physical manifestation of the Inner Critic to come and tell me I ain’t shit and to stop kidding myself. Naturally, I’ve had a few moments where it felt like that (note to self: the most tragic mistake one can make is letting someone read something you’ve just finished writing, while on an empty stomach), but in actuality I’ve been met with nothing but support. This project (process) has become more valuable than ever. 

So it is in the spirit of chaos that I dedicate this edition to belief. Specifically, belief in the areas of your life that you cannot yet see, and belief that you are not alone. To create is to believe. 

Love, Bumsita.