Paralysed with Hope

I hit up the Comedy festival last night. I didn’t risk it, I knew that my choice was destined to be funny and Maria Bamford didn’t fail me. It was perfect entertainment. One hour (I think I have late adult onset ADD so staying focused is hard and I tend to clean out my wallet at as soon as things pass the ninety minute mark).

Maria Bamford is quite open about her struggle with depression during her act. It is both sad and funny but mostly funny. Seeing her came off the back of reading Jonathan Franzen‘s piece on David Foster Wallace in The New Yorker yesterday afternoon.

“In the summer before he died, sitting with him on his patio while he smoked cigarettes, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the hummingbirds around his house and was saddened that he could, and while he was taking his heavily medicated afternoon naps I was studying the birds of Ecuador for an upcoming trip, and I understood the difference between his unmanageable misery and my manageable discontents to be that I could escape myself in the joy of birds and he could not.”

Compare this to Maria’s own description of her unique set of skills on an online dating site.

“I can wear the same outfit for five days and can curl up naked on floor in the shower where I can become very small. Very, very small.”

One made me cry, one made me laugh and both about the same subject. It is faint line between funny and sad and an invisible one between genius and unhinged.

In the words of Plat0- Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.

Happy Monday lovers.


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