Dissecting Comedy

I've been feeling so strange lately. It's as if my personality has migrated south for the winter and has inhabited another being. In return, my emotional immune system seems to have reacted by unearthing every trait I've tried to smother. Frustration, confusion, fatigue, extreme curiosity and desire to rebel against people and things that frustrate me. Each trait impacts one another, and although I've done my best to keep them under control, they affect my life daily and cause me to think about things differently and more deeply, which, unfortunately, ultimately leads to utter frustration and/or rebellious tendencies. Even the things I love most, like food and music, I've been psychoanalyzing to the point where they become almost totally foreign and unappealing to me. It's as if I'm molecularly deconstructing a mass-produced brownie and finding all the animal by-products and such. Suddenly I don't want to eat it anymore.

Over the span of the few months I've been labeled as an "eighth grader", I've realized that comedy is one of my true loves, and it loves me back, apparently, because some of its wit rubs off on me (occasionally) and I can apply it to my writing.

Now, reader, if you have put two and two together you'll be thinking right now that it's utterly inevitable that Annie is going to destroy her love for comedy by questioning its very existence. Well, you would be wrong there, my friends, because it's already happened.

That's right. I've been engrossed in the thick, funnies-packed object which is Steve Toltz's A Fraction of the Whole. (Yes, this is my fifth post on it.) My whole life has been revolving around comedy, from catching the occasional re-runs of Saturday Night Live episodes from 2001 or simply making mental jokes about my cat's obesity. There's a battle going on between the world of satire and my newly uncovered emotions, and the emotions are winning. I keep asking myself the same questions: What makes things amusing? Why am I laughing at this joke? What makes other people's misfortunes funny? What is comedy? Instead of wallowing in my own confusion and eventually going mad with answerless passion, a new idea sprung upon me--I would answer these questions myself, applying my obsessive inquiring to the things that actually required it. And then, what-ho! I had a blog post! Funny how these things work out so well.

So why exactly are certain jokes funny? What makes a man in an office cubicle wearing a banana suit while eating a giant hot dog amusing? Many hours of intense theorizing has brought me to a conclusion. We, as humans, have a specific agenda, whether we believe it or refuse to admit it. We are used to things happening the way they're supposed to, and when suddenly, out of the blue, something occurs that we never expected to happen, even if it's a snippet of dialogue, a joke is born. A sudden change in a world that's expertly paced produces something that we chose to take as a signal for happiness. Why does it not make us cry? Several reasons. The first, easiest, and most obvious reason is that it's human nature (for most people, at least) to want to be happy. Also, the change is usually so small (yet able to leave some impact) that after it's finished, we can go on with our lives as if nothing's happened. Some people find this little quirk in space and time amusing, yet some people don't take it so well, which is what determines sense of humor.

So why is something that's still sudden and unexpected, like a cat impaled on a street lamp, not amusing at all, except to kitten-haters? I think that the trick to good comedy is to present something that many people have similar feelings for in an unexpected way without altering it too much. In the case of the office worker in the banana suit, it is only changing one thing, which is the assumed attire of office workers. Having something so blunt and out there that it becomes too opposing to society no longer seems funny. It must be subtle, kind of like that almost-clear nail polish that you can still sort of see. It must leave a slight tint on the fingernails of the universe.

Wow. After getting out all my ideas on virtual paper, I've realized that comedy is so much more complex than many people take it to be. Sure, it comes naturally to some people, but even then, before delivery, you have to take into consideration the impact it will have on certain individuals. I even admit that A Fraction of the Whole goes a bit overboard occasionally with its wildly revolting jokes. Yet the thing that makes it for the most part consistent in its humor is the fact that it's set in such a natural environment that's tweaked only in the slightest to leave a huge comedic impact. That's the genius of humor: the ability to screw up society's ideas in the perfect way for people to actually be able to laugh at them and not cry.

My Life In A Quote

The minute I saw this quote in an outdated copy of Rolling Stone Mag, peeking out at the top of the "Random Notes" section, my heart exploded into a million pieces of grateful, fleshy confetti. Thank you, Damon Albarn (of 90's band blur, and currently Gorrilaz).

"Glee is a homogenization of everything, and ultimately will lead to emptiness."

Now, I could go on pretentiously psychoanalyzing this, or I could spend my time basking in its sheer simplicity and boldness and loveliness. I think I'll take the latter.

Now, readers, I don't mean to be one of those extreme, mainstream-television-program-haters who goes around trying to make a point about how bad Glee is, but if you're a person with a passion for good music, like me, you don't take it lightly when a preppy, make-believe glee club with pregnant teenagers and obnoxious cheerleaders sing (originally) great songs in ridiculous, suburbified harmonies. And it's aired on Fox.

Sorry, Glee, but you've destroyed the musical excellence of Beck, Parliament-Funkadelic, The Police... and you'll probably never read this post anyway. Once again, I have a newfound respect for a man whose music was already dangerously catchy. If only they had made the print a little bigger.

I Fought The Law, And The Law Won.

It's human nature to want to break the rules. Even the tightest-wound individual still harbors some smothered desire to do something that they're not supposed to do. For whatever reason it may be, we all feel the need to rebel against society - whether it be to quench an uncontrollable thirst for action or to "get back" at society for wronging you in some way. As for Terry Dean in Steve Tolz's A Fraction of The Whole, his past is what fuels his need to be a ruthless, unstoppable criminal.

Once an incredible athlete and the town's crowing glory, Terry's fame is instantly diminished after getting in a competitive conflict over a cricket match and ends up with a stabbed leg. Instead of doing nothing, Terry decides that the only thing that will give him a purpose in life is to find another obsession - in this case, that obsession was mugging, thievery, and all things to do with breaking the town's laws. What starts as a petty, somewhat hesitant attempt to wreak havoc on the town and its people gradually blossoms into a full-fledged criminal lifestyle fueled by Terry's traumatizing past and crazy vengefulness. Before we know it, Terry has thrown himself into a festering abyss of killing and crime, ganging up with fellow outlaws and again becoming the most famous person in his small town, but for a much different reason.

So besides Terry's past, what is it that drives him to break the law? I think that part of it is the mere fact that he's escaped the police and law enforcers so many times that his success has gone to his head. He thinks that he can fool them every time, and he teases them by going on insane killing sprees and fleeing from the scene. An incredibly talented criminal, Terry has realized that the so-called "authorities" of his town aren't actually as big as he knew them to be, and this would be a liberating realization for everyone. The thing that sets Terry apart from everyone else is that he springs upon each opportunity and approaches the situation in a way that gives him excitement - he shoves himself in the face of the law, only to tear himself away at the moment they bite. The ability to be quicker and almost invincible to the law's ever-watching eyes is a powerful thing.

I also believe that Terry's past fame plays a huge part in his desire to get in trouble. He's let the town down by getting his leg stabbed and losing his ability to participate in sports. However, his obsessive competitiveness still burns and he chooses to apply that force to another activity that will earn him fame yet again, even if the fame could get him killed. The fact that your face is known all over Australia is a blessing and a curse, and fame is addicting - once you've achieved it, you keep wanting more.

The fact that he murders only sports figures is obviously a refection of his past. Whenever he hears of a cheating athlete or coach he punishes them by killing them. Sports and crime are very similar - both can start a fire of competition in anyone who takes part in either of them, and when you've got both in you, it's like an explosion.

Although it may seem like a total cliche that Terry's hunger for crime is based on his traumatizing past, I believe that it's so much more than that. I think so many criminals perform ridiculous acts to "punish" society, Terry's motives are so much more complex. In some ways, I think he's doing what he's doing in order to be known again, to make up for his loss of athleticism by doing something that will also make him well known. I think in some ways he's trying to make a point, but in others, he's just doing it because he can. He's been raised on crime since he was a young boy, and it's really become a part of his life. Crime, like a sport, is an aspect of life that can fuel obsessions. In Terry's case, crime is used to fill the holes in his life, and make an impact on his world.

Just for fun, here's The Clash and their cover of Sonny Curtis's "I Fought the Law". Yay!

clawing myself out of the rut.

i'm listening to the song "mad world", which was originally by tears for fears, but everyone seems to know only the gary jules version, which is stupid because he sounds exactly like michael stipe of REM. ugh, REM. anyway, it's weird because this song is expressing almost exactly how i'm feeling about the world. it's crazy - just earlier today i was convinced i as falling into this downwards spiral of bad writing because i wasn't placed into the "advanced revision" group in class today. it's true, though - my draft really sucked. it was cliched, dry, uninteresting...i mean, what kind of kid would want to read this, unless they like torturing themself? long story short, it was really, really, bad, as was my foreword, which was almost just as bad. ok, enough with the self-criticism. but this year i was determined to reconcile my life as a writer and create something i really was proud of. it was hard work, and i feel like i occasionally wrote something sort of good, but then again there was always that aspect that was a bit off about it, like milk that's just on the verge of souring. gross, right? i took a few pathetic stabs at writing deep and profound pieces which turned out disturbing or stereotypical and mostly just really...bad. around this time of writing depression, while i was developing a terrible habit of over-eating crappy candy bars, i picked up Steve Toltz's debut novel, A Fraction of The Whole. It was just the kind of cold, slightly offensive, riotously funny Australian story that i needed to cheer me up. The end result of reading a few chapters would end up shaping my writing life....maybe forever.

Today, after an excellent prompt administered by Miss Lilabet Johnstongil, i managed to whip about maybe the wittiest piece i had ever composed, one that i was actually proud of, entitled The Predicament of Monsieur Chapeau, Jr. The positive praise from teacher and students alike was more than enough to convince me that i really hadn't fallen into a rut at all, i just was a much better comic writer than an epic novelist. i definitely saw bits in my story that were largely inspired by A Fraction of The Whole, and i thank Steve Toltz for producing such an inspiring, humorous book that made me realize who i truly am as a writer. although i occasionally feel dumb and silly for composing funny pieces, it rarely bothers me, and i am truly satisfied with writing things that make people laugh.

so, back to that tears for fears song. it really is a mad world, because you'll never really know when your life will flip itself around and you'll find something you like. but that song is over now, and now my ipod's playing a-ha's "take on me". i guess there can't always be a song to spontaneously fit my mood.

The Issue With Siblings.

Yes, I know. This sounds like the latest television situation comedy about a lovingly dysfunctional family and their seventeen adopted children. Well, I'm sorry, friends, but that won't happen for a while, although it's secretly been my lifelong dream to make a sitcom. What I'm talking about is the popular theme in many books - siblings. In general, there's usually a tinge (or maybe something more than a tinge) of jealously and competitiveness between two, or three, or five brothers and/or sisters that is for the most part resolved happily in the ending. PHOOEY! This is not always how it works out. Take it from me, I'm fifty percent of a pair of twins, "A Fraction of the Whole", as it were. And Steve Toltz's book, that goes by the name of the phrase in the quotation marks, in case you didn't pick up on that, really does a righteous job of illuminating the true lives and conflicts that siblings face.

The two main characters featured in the novel, Martin and his younger brother Terry, are youngsters living in an uneventful town in Australia proclaimed affectionately by its people as "The Worst Place To Live in New South Wales". Or something like that. Whatever it may be, the point is that it's really an awful town and there's nothing much to do there but lie around in bed looking at the town's prison, or just cause trouble. Martin, who was in a ridiculously long coma while his younger son (of a different father) was being born, generally chooses the former option of preoccupying himself. His brother Terry, early in his life, would idolize his brother, imitating his ailments, until his father decides that he should turn his son onto sports. Terry soon becomes almost religiously addicted, praised by the entire town, until he gets stabbed in the leg and turns to "mucking about" in the town and traveling rapidly through a downwards spiral into a no-good criminal life.

At first, Martin tries to help his younger brother reconcile his life and drop his wanton crimes, yet Terry seems hopelessly devoted to the criminal life. There is a constant flame of competition burning in the metaphorical family fireplace that, let's face it, shall not be smothered by the water of peace. When Terry was the town's best athlete, Martin was shunned even further because of his bedridden past and was looked upon ever since as a grumpy, useless invalid who stares to much. People place tags on siblings, especially if they are of the same gender or age.

Honestly, it can sometimes be difficult being a twin. Many people associate me with my brother, saying things like "you look a lot like Ben", or "Oh right, you're Ben's sister". God, I hate that. And then I've probably heard the line "You're Ben's sister? But you look nothing like him! Well, now that I look at you, I guess you have the same nose..." People know me because of my twin. I'm really not someone who likes to grab a lot of attention, and I feel like Ben can act like a vacuum, sucking up the sappy affection and attention of everyone in the room. This is where most of our hidden rivalry sparks. When he struts about, singing Beatle's songs and strumming his guitar, a slew of eleven-year-old girls trailing after him like he was a prophet. And when he becomes famous, I'm known as being "the cool boy"'s sister, and people come up to me to praise him and gush about his excellence. As far as I know, I don't get much admiration. Me and Ben are like rocks. Ben is a plain grey rock on the outside, but when you bash him on the head, you'll find a valuable gem inside. Me...I'm still grey inside.

Ok, this post is really going nowhere and is turning into a dry, substance-less rant. The point I'm trying to make is that there will always be the sibling who achieves even the mildest fame, and then the other, no matter who they are, will immediately be brought down a level if they don't strive to compete with their siblings. This is sounding really dramatic, but I feel that it's true. A sibling's status largely depends on that of his brother or sister. YES! Finally, I have uncovered the big idea of this seemingly self-piteous blog post. Society can't seem to shake the popular misconception that families are one homogenous blob. Therefore, they like to make siblings seem like one person, sometimes. Ok, I'm making some assumptions here. But I feel like I'm viewed sometimes as the less-talented side of my brother. If I was an only child, things would be infinitely different because you really wouldn't have anyone to compare me too. Whoever is the twin of higher social status, that's the one you're expected to live up to. The fact that society views twins as being in a race to the top of the social bar is what fuels so much of our competition. It's offensive to be known by who your siblings are, and we feel that the only way to be known for who you are is being "famous". Oh my gosh, this post is going all over the place. I feel like I'm drunk! I'm not really, though. Sorry, readers.