Billy Coffey

storyteller

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The value of our art

April 14, 2014 by Billy Coffey 3 Comments

image courtesy of google images. Spangled Blengins, Boy King Islands. One is a young Tuskorhorian, the other a human headed Dortherean by Henry Darger
image courtesy of google images. Spangled Blengins, Boy King Islands. One is a young Tuskorhorian, the other a human headed Dortherean by Henry Darger

Let me tell you about Henry Darger, the man who wrote one of the most detailed and bizarre books in history.

Never heard of him? Me neither. At least, not until I happened to stumble upon his story a few weeks ago. Seems strange that someone who did something so grand could be so unknown, doesn’t it? But it’s true. In fact, you could even say that’s why Henry was so extraordinary.

image courtesy of google images
image courtesy of google images

He was a janitor. Nothing so special about that, but nothing so wrong with it, either. There is no correlation between who a person is and what that person does for a living. Einstein was a patent clerk. Faulkner a mailman. Henry Darger mopped floors.

An unassuming man. A quiet man. He never married, never really had friends. Just a regular guy living a regular life, one of the faceless masses that occupy so much of the world who are here for a short while and then gone forever.

Henry left in 1973.

There are no accounts of his funeral. I don’t know if anyone attended at all, though I like to think they did. I like to think there was a crowd huddled around his casket that day to bid him farewell.

It is an unfortunate fact of life that so many people are discovered to have been truly extraordinary only after their passing. Such was the case with Henry. A few days after his passing, his landlord went through his apartment to ready it for rent. What he found was astonishing.

What he found hidden among Henry’s possessions was a manuscript. Its title may give you a clue as to the story’s scope and magnitude:

THE STORY OF THE VIVIAN GIRLS, IN WHAT IS KNOWN AS THE REALMS OF THE UNREAL, OF THE GLANDECO-ANGELINIAN WAR STORM, CAUSED BY THE CHILD SLAVE REBELLION

Did you get that? If not, I can’t blame you. I had to read the title three times to even understand a little of it, and that doesn’t count the time I actually wrote it out.

The breadth and scope of Henry’s book went well beyond epic. The manuscript itself contained 15,000 pages. Over nine million words. Over 300 watercolor pictures coinciding with the story. Some of the illustrations were so large they measured ten feet wide.

A lifetime’s worth of work. Years upon years of solitary effort, hundreds of thousands of hours spent writing and painting, creating an entire saga of another world.

And all for no apparent reason. Not only did Henry Darger never seek any sort of publication for his work, he never told a soul about it. His book was his dream and his secret alone.

I’ve thought about Henry Darger a lot since I first read about him. Which, as change or fate would have it, just to happened to be the very week my newest novel released. A tough thing, that. You’d think it wouldn’t be, perhaps, but it is. No matter who an author is or how successful he or she may be or how many books or under his or her belt, the most important thing to us all is that our words matter. Matter to others, matter to the world. We want what we say and think and feel to count for something.

But Henry Darger reminds me that none of those things mean anything. In the end, we cannot account for how the world will judge our work, and so, in the end, the world’s opinion really doesn’t matter. Simple as that.

What matters—what counts—is that our words stir not the world, but ourselves. That they conjure in our own hearts and minds a kind of magic that neither the years nor the work can dull. The kind of magic that sustains us in our lonely times and gives our own private worlds meaning. The kind of magic that tinges even the life of a simple janitor with greatness.

Filed Under: beauty, career, creativity, dreams, endurance, journey, living, longing, magic, patience, self worth, story, success, writing

ILUVME

February 14, 2013 by Billy Coffey 6 Comments

I was sitting at an intersection yesterday, passing the time between stop and go by studying the car in front of me. Vehicle: a rusty, broken, and tired Toyota. Driver: young lady, no more than seventeen and blissfully unaware of her surroundings. A sound system that was worth much more than the car itself vibrated everything from the windows to the doors to the license plates.

Vanity plates, of course. If you’re seventeen and cool, vanity plates are a requirement.

They also say a lot about a person. Vanity plates are tiny windows into a personality, a creative assemblage of letters and numbers that offer a glimpse into what matters most to the owner.

And it was pretty obvious what mattered most to that young lady. Her license plate used the term “vanity” in a more literal way.

ILUVME, it said.

I shook my head and grinned in an I-can’t-believe-this sort of way. ILUVME? Really?

A little arrogant, I thought. Then again, maybe there was much to love in being her. Maybe she really did love herself, and justifiably so. Maybe who she was, what she knew, and the direction her life was going was so perfect, so wondrous, that loving herself was natural and right and good.

Ha.

If true, then she should give herself a little time. Five years or so. Maybe ten. Let her grow up a little and get out into this big, beautiful world. Let her dreams crumble, her heart break, and her faith bend. Then we’ll see how much she loves herself.

I wrinkled my brow, struck by the coldness of those thoughts. Was I really that pessimistic of a person? Was I really hoping for her life to unfold such that she would one day regret putting such a thing on her license plates?

Why was I so upset because she loved herself? Was it because she possessed something I did not?

Did I love me?

An interesting question, that. Are we supposed to love ourselves? I flipped through the pages of my mental Bible for any scripture that confirmed or denied that question, but nothing stood out (though, admittedly, the pages of the Bible I hold in my head are not nearly as complete as the pages of the one I hold in my hand).

But I did know this: whether I was supposed to or not, I certainly did not love me. I knew my weaknesses and faults. The hidden things I thought and said and did. I knew what I paid attention to and what I did not. The struggles I faced, the times I feared and worried and doubted too much. What and who I hated. I knew, more than anyone else, the kind of person I was.

And that was not the sort of person anyone could love. Should love.

Besides, the point of life isn’t to be content with the person you are, right? No, it’s to try to do and be a little better every day. To keep becoming. That’s tough to do when you’re happy with who you are. When ULUVU.

Still, something bothered me. Wouldn’t hating yourself for who you are, for what you feel and think and do, be just as bad?

My thoughts were interrupted by the stoplight turning green. ILUVME turned left, and as I watched her I realized she was pulling into the parking lot of a church. Black letters that spelled out GOD IS OUR FRIEND glittered in the sun on the marquee at the entrance.

Yes. God is our friend. My friend. So powerful that He could do anything, He chose to die for me. So omnipresent that He could be anywhere, He chose to live in my heart. My heart. Not because He had to. Because He wanted to.

Because God loved me.

Loved me despite knowing my fears and worries and doubts. Despite knowing my failures and faults. Despite knowing me better than I knew myself.

If an all-powerful, all-knowing God could love me, why couldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I?

The foundation of the Christian faith states that we are flawed beings. Sinful souls in need of a Savior. I knew that to be true. Perhaps just as true, though, was that our worth didn’t depend upon what we did or did not, but upon the spark of the Divine that gave us life. There is a beauty within us beyond our flaws and failures. A beauty worthy of our compassion, of our acceptance.

And of our love.

Filed Under: love, self worth

Life in the digital age

January 17, 2013 by Billy Coffey 3 Comments

image courtesy of photobucket.com

He said “Kids” and that was all, as though that one word was satisfactory enough. I supposed it was. All I had to do was turn my head to where his eyes had gone—there to the swinging doors that led into and out of the Ace Hardware. Kids, three of them. Chests puffed, music blaring. Seventeen, I guessed, no older than that. Kings of the world.

“Know what I’d like to give this younger generation?” he asked.

I didn’t and didn’t ask. I figured to him, the younger generation meant me just as much as it meant those three teens going into the Ace. There to buy some piping for a potato gun, maybe. Or some wax to shine up their rusting truck.

“Manners.” He spit a long stream of brown tobacco juice onto the lot. “Yessir, I’d give em manners.”

“Think most everybody’d do well to get a good dose of those,” I said.

He made that strange motion with his head that was part nod at the truth of what I’d said and part shake that things had gotten so bad. It was a motion that said the whole world was on a train ride to hell and we were all enjoying the scenery.

He said, “My Ella? She’s on the Facebook now. Says she’s got a hunnert friends and done liked all these movie stars and rock n’ roll singers. You ever hear such a thing?”

I recollected I did and tried not to raise my eyebrows. His granddaughter Ella was only thirteen.

“Plays them videogames, too,” he said. “You seen them?”

I said I did.

“Gets on there all jerkin’ round and whoopin. She got this one where she’s on the Olympics. Gets herself all sweaty and worn down. And you know what after? She’ll turn that game off and try some real livin, but it’s like she’s all swelled up on the inside. Like she really thinks that gold medal the computer gave her’s a real one, just like she thinks she really is friends with all them rock n’ rollers on the Facebook. It’d be funny if it weren’t so pitiful.”

He spit again, giving me an opening to say something. I couldn’t. He had a point.

“Cain’t blame em, though,” he said. “Elle or them boys what walked in there or any other. It’s the way of the world now. All’s that matter’s we feel good about ourselves. Ella, she’s comin to see she’s a queen what with all them medals on the TV screen and friends she don’t even know on the computer. Yep, gotta puff ourselves up no matter what. Reckon that’s how we get a gov’ment what doesn’t know how to balance a checkbook and a President who thinks he’s my Lord an’ savior and how a body can go kill a bunch of people and blame it on the gun in his hand and not the evil in his heart.”

He nodded, agreeing with his own wisdom, and spit again. “Yessir, manners is what I’d give em. That’s the best thing.”

I kept silent on that. Manners, you see. You respect your elders. That means not disagreeing with them in words unless it’s necessary. It didn’t seem necessary at the moment. He was mostly right, after all.

But what I think we all need in this age of false pride and self-love is fear, and a lot of it. Because no matter how advanced we become and how shiny our toys get, life still has teeth that bite. And many times the darkness we fight and the monsters that stalk us are not in the world, they are in us.

Filed Under: change, self worth, social media

Internet validation

February 27, 2012 by Billy Coffey 17 Comments

image courtesy of photobucket.com
image courtesy of photobucket.com

I consider it a point of pride to say I’m not a YouTube guy. And though a lot of what I’m trying to do for a living involves a computer and the internet, I’ll be honest and say I’m a fan of neither. Give me a letter rather than an email and a fountain pen instead of a keyboard. I understand letters and fountain pens a lot better.

But folks like me are in the minority these days. I know people who spend hours on Facebook and Twitter and Pinterest and whatever else is the Internet’s version of the flavor of the week. I’d throw YouTube on that list, too. From what I understand, YouTube’s the place to be.

Especially if you’re a kid.

And just as certain internet sites become fads, certain aspects of those sites become fads as well. From what I understand, the newest and greatest is the “Am I pretty or ugly?” videos posted by adolescent girls. Like this one:

So far about four million people have watched that young lady. Four million. And of those four million, almost a hundred thousand kind souls have saw fit to voice their opinion.

Some offer advice, like this one:

At the moment I would say you are a cute girl with potential. If you want to move toward the more attractive look, then do away with the silly hats and things like that. Dress the part of who you think you want to be. Look up the mathmatical ratio for beauty and have yuor entire body measured. The closer to teh ratio you are the more beautiful you are. Don’t get FAT. eventually men will be attracted to your sexuality. Develope this and you will move from sort of cute to hot.

Others are more kind:

you are not ugly trust me and im only 12 you are not ugly if people say u r ugly that means they are ugly on the inside and out you are a beautiful person and you will be even more

beautiful when you are older if people call u ugly dont be alarmed by that just trust your heart and trut what is is trying to tell you!!!!stand up to them! say you are not ugly and that just walk away thanks… and remember listen to ur heart and trust what you believe ur beautiful 🙂

Many resemble this comment:

yes you are ugly kill yourself

And then of course, being the internet, there are several who go like this:

MY GOD SHES HOT. ID WRECK THAT

I could say a lot about something like this. I could talk about how destructive the internet can be. Or how mean people are. Or how the comment section of a YouTube video is a damning indictment of the American educational system.

But I just want to talk about the girl.

That so much of a young person’s opinion of him or herself is based upon outward appearance is a given. It’s always been that way. And let me tell you, that sort of thing isn’t confined to females alone. Guys look in the mirror, too. And more often than not, what’s shining back at them isn’t what we consider good.

What is amazing to me (amazing and also so, so sad) is that these people are now taking to the internet for validation. It’s Look at me and Pay attention to me and Love me. We live in a Reality TV world, where one’s value and worth is increasingly measured by the number of page views and comments and followers and “friends” we receive.

And for that, I pity that poor girl. I pity us all.

Filed Under: children, self worth, technology

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