l’esprit d’escalier

Since their deaths this summer, I will admit that I have become a bit obsessed with Theresa Duncan and Jeremy Blake. Initially much moreso than I am now, I'll admit. In July, when the news broke of the dual suicides, Missie and I pored over articles and blogs for hours at a time, trying to undo the tangles of assumptions and speculations surrounding the artists life together and respective deaths. What is known: They were inseparable. They were brilliant, talented. They were paranoid and delusional. They were frustrated and frightened. They loved New York, and had recently come home after a disappointing stint on the left coast, where they lived in Venice Beach, CA. This Spring, they were back in New York, living together in the second floor apartment of St. Mark's rectory on E. 11th St.

And then, they were dead.

Seemingly overcome by the forces of their own paranoia, Theresa swallowed a bottle of Tylenol PM with a bourbon chaser and eight days later, Jeremy took off his clothes, and walked into the water in Rockaway. Both left notes, referencing their love for the other. And ever since, the world has been left to suppose for themselves, just what could possibly have been the driving forces behind the deaths of such startlingly brilliant young artists.

The conspiracy theories are endless. The worst and least original of which being an addiction to Crystal Meth, courtesy of the usually witty and brilliant gawker.com.

"All these profiles talk about how erratic the twosome became—they were paranoid, convinced that the CIA and the Scientologists were out to get them, erratic with friends.... You know what that sounds like? Hi, crystal meth. They sound like everyone who's ever done a lot of stimulants; tinfoil on the windows, water glass to the door, looking for secret cameras. Lots of those folks do themselves in too." (Choire Sicha)

But what Sicha fails to consider, is that the lifestyle Theresa and Jeremy lived was the same for a dozen years. They weren't twenty-two. They didn't "find" drugs. They drank way too much. They may or may not have been jacked up on pills. They lived and partied in New York society, in a world of accesibility to whatever whenever you want it. The assertion that they suddenly developed a mean meth addiction, absent the knowledge of anyone close to them, is absurd. If this were the case, most certainly the quotes you'd be hearing from their friends now would be less, "I have no idea what'd gotten into them," and more, "They got hooked on some serious stuff and it completely changed them." No one is beyond being revealed for what they are, especially postmortem.

What they were, was brilliant. Dark. Afflicted primarily by the genius that made them famous. And two doses of that are worse than one. In every article I've read, beneath every quote from a friend or acquaintance, what seems to be clear is that Theresa was the driving force behind it all. That Jeremy, on his own, would likely have lived a normal successful life with a bright career is not too much to assume. But his love for Theresa dampened him to reality, and his loyalty to her was what existed beyond other impulses. Before anything, he loved and admired her. Amidst that love, and surrounded by the fire she burned inside of herself, it had to be hard for him to separate fact from fiction.

Anyone can be convinced of anything, with the right combination of factors. Theresa in all of her beauty and intelligence, seems to me to have also been a master manipulator. Reports (validated on almost all occasions) of her twisting of the facts, vicious verbal attacks on friends, lying about events that never took place, and in even some cases plagiarizing the work of other writers, lead me to believe that she was in fact capable of using whatever methods necessary to see everything through on her own terms. I don't disparage her success. I just tend to think that part of the puzzle of that success, and ultimate demise, was that she was too good at convincing people of what she wanted to believe. Herself and Jeremy included.

In the end, whatever the reasons, and I think there are many, Theresa and Jeremy might have known something that so many great artists throughout history have known. The brightest among us, often the most tormented in life, are always most lamented in death. And in the case of Theresa Duncan and Jeremy Blake, their successes, their impact on the world, and their legend ...lives on.

http://newsgrist.typepad.com/underbelly/2007/07/tragedy-theresa.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theresa_Duncan

http://nymag.com/news/features/36091/

It's Been a Long Time

It's been too long since I've written. Since I've seen most of the people who used to occupy these entries. And since I've felt at ease enough to say how I feel about what's going on.

So much has changed now. It's hard to even start. But the lives of the people who matter to me are those that have changed the most. Pam and I broke up. And got back together. And now it isn't the same, and it may never be again. She's engaged now and planning her future far away from me. Missie moved to New York. And then struggled with a boyfriend who wasn't happy, in an apartment that was too small. With a job she loves, in a city that can't support you, and no matter how much you love it, it won't ever love you back.
Danielle moved to Philadelphia, and so did her boyfriend. And then jobless, without plans, they tried to travel together. On borrowed money. With no direction. And they got lost, for a time. It seems they are finding their way back, hopefully together now.
While Bryan wrote his scripts, he grew more unhappy and disconnected by his job. One day, out of patience and unable to see any hope for his role and his future there, he quit. And there was nothing there to turn to. But me. And I don't handle things well. But we have an apartment and a kitten and our frustrations live under the rug.
My parents live in different houses now. My mom has a puppy and a job that keeps her busier than she's ever been. She has company for dinner, family brunches, road trips with girlfriends and she's tired. But also free. Which is a gift, and I think now she knows it. My Dad seems older. Sadder. And I worry. His father is dying and my Dad has to understand how to resolve a lifetime of anger and detachment from a father you don't know or love. My brother will someday have to do the same. My Mom's parents are in a nursing home, and my Grandpa is going to be 90. There will be cake and balloons in the ballroom of the country club that he loves so much, that makes him so proud. That is as much as home to us after all of these years. He will cry, and then so will we.
Jerry and Marc are on prescription pills that get them through their days. Aren't we all.
And Colleen and Brad are in Charlotte. Brad may work for Colleen some day, in the job I once had, in the life I once knew.
Teresa and Bear are Newlyweds, and so are Tara and Steve. They bought houses, and so did Andrea and Dan, and sometimes it seems that everyone has grown up but me.
Amanda lost her Appendix, but luckily not her life. Her sister lost a baby in the eighth month, and I know what that does to a family.
Stephanie is gone now, in the army, but farther away than just that. I don't think I'll ever speak to her again. And I miss her sometimes a lot.
Jess has new boobs, a new job, new roommates, and a family who make her sad. I think all of our families make us sad now and then.

I can't seem to understand where everyone has gone. Some people, even the ones right next to me, are farther away than ever before. And missing them has become so much less about distance, and so much more about lasting forever. It is apparent now, now that time has passed, that we won't ever be together again. That our memories are only that, and our time together has come and gone. There will be visits. The weddings that haven't happened yet will come and go. The babies who haven't come yet will be made, and born, and grow and then time will pass even faster. And while people move, and change, I somehow still feel the same. A little harder.

Maybe my time in New York is winding to its end. My inability to grow might be coming from the very place that turned me into an adult. The place that I love, that made me savvy, cynical, and wiser. I can't believe it's been three years. Still, I can't believe it's been only three years. And it feels unfair to ever have to leave. This city is a fairy tale, in the best and worst ways. While suburbia thrives around us, in its predictability and security, we suffer the wolves and little earthquakes of city life every day. The magic which is all around us is attacked regularly by poverty, exhaustion and the untouchable madness all around us. I don't know where I belong now, but I know that for a time, I belonged here.

You can feel the pull of life, it's pulled of my friends. My family. In all of the directions I just listed and more. And now it's pulling me.

It's been a long time since I've thought about it all. And now, I think, it's all about to change.