Louis CK sent me an email. (I’m on his mailing list. We’re not friends. Yet.) It ends with
Otherwise, happy new year. Sorry if you’re dead now.
At first, I thought how inappropriate and rude that was. Then I thought a bit more.
And I concluded that it was inappropriate and rude, but also genius. It made me come out of my shell, that I’m used to sitting in and out of which I can imagine that everything is okay. I can imagine safety and comfort, I can imagine warmth and prosperity, and I can imagine that I will never die.
I understand pain, of course. I can empathize with others and my less fortunate self, but I do that with my mind and not my heart when I’m in my shell. I feel for people rationally, and the paradoxical sound of that phrase tells me something. I probably imagine my empathy too. I pretend to feel and grieve. So if you want to really tell me something, you should knock me out of my shell.
Good comedy, good literature, good movies, and shows can do that. No, scratch that. Must do that. They knock me out of my warm space and make me feel as if I’m standing naked in the middle of a school’s canteen. And this is great. Deep down, I want to feel. Deep down, I hate that shell I’ve built around myself, and I hope every second for someone to smash it with a sledgehammer and drag me out of it. Maybe, not every second, but still.
Don’t I know that people die? Don’t I know that this year it was especially true? Don’t I have fewer relatives and fewer friends this year?
Yeah, I know all that. But do I feel it? That is another feature of culture: it made us feel what we all know.