My parents are not Episcopalian, but they do exhibit the characteristics that one typically associates with the sect. They don't talk about the three things that most New Yorkers dwell upon: politics, religion, and sex. They are quiet, polite, socially conservative (with the exception of the issues of abortion and euthanasia), and active in the clubs and civic communities that comprise any suburban town: the PTA (maybe they've finally included an 'S' in there by now), the church, the book clubs that read best-sellers that are “cultural” in the sense that the setting of the book is different than suburbia or some nineteenth century British estate. They wear clothing that is shipped to them from Maine, and blush when they hear certain words. One would think them incapable of farting or shitting due to the tightness of their sphincters.
“I'm sorry if I got too heavy there,” he says. I didn't realize people still used that word.
“It's all right, man.”
He drinks from his bottle of water. He looks to it, takes another sip, and then looks back to me. “Sure you don't want that drink?”
“A glass of water will be fine. I think I have to meet someone, and I don't want to show up stinking of booze.”
“That's probably a good idea,” he says. “I think I'm going to pour myself a glass of wine.” He stands and begins for the area that contains an island, a sink, and the majority of the household appliances. As he opens the refrigerator, he turns to me. “Where did you meet Patrick and Daphne anyway?”
“I took out an ad on Craigslist to see if anyone could help me find Coprolalia. Patrick responded.”
“Yeah, that sounds like him.”
“We met at a bar on Bedford before going to this party in south Williamsburg. That's where I met Daphne.” He stops abruptly after uncorking the wine. He turns to me with an incredulous expression. “It was held by the A-R-E, if you've heard of them.”
“Sure,” he laughs. “Did you have a good time?”
“It was a bit strange, but it was certainly a lot of fun.”
“You spent an evening with the Avatars, Reincarnations, and Eidolons, and you thought it only a bit strange?”
“I though they were called the Acolytes of Risus, the Enlightener.”
“Wait…was this Saturday?”
“Yeah.”
“The costume party.” He nods. “Not exactly the thing that Dick would have wanted, but…well…whatever.”
“Wait…but about the other name. What about the Acolytes of Risus, the Enlightener?”
“They've been called that. Some people have even said that the initials actually stand for Astral Resurrection Entities or Astrally-Resurrected Entities. Either way, these people are profoundly mistaken — to the point that it's almost silly. The A-R-E is more about the celebration of life — you know, a carnival, a Dionysian celebration, a Coney Island of the mind, a circus of the soul…a step beyond what the Germans would call Gesamtkunstwerk. It's different than a total artwork — to translate the term without recourse to nuance — because it seeks to integrate the audience into the work of art, as well — it's not just the utilization of several mediums. I know that the concept is a bit outdated — probably because it's been a buzzword for literary critics, sophists, and philologists for well over a century now — but that was, or is, the most straightforward drive behind the group. It is the attempt to create a new community, and I’m defining community in the way that Cohen has. This requires the abolition of everything that alienates individuals, that separates them. Keens was of the opinion that the community in which we as Americans live has become pernicious, and that the full, exclusive participation in this community has made people anxious, spiteful, emotionally bankrupt.” He laughs to himself. “You know, Mordy got a lot of his ideas from Keens.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Keens was particularly annoyed by what he called assumed historical identifiers, things that highlight the disparities between individuals: you know, class, race, gender, or any of those things in which so many people take so much pride. But people were skeptical of his intentions. As I said before, to abandon one’s status as, say, a woman, who faces persecution as a consequence of the myriad power structures that have been in place since well before the advent of capitalism, not to mention the ones that have come along since the modern age, as well as the paternal and phallocentric nature of language or langue…well, this type of second-class status within the social hierarchy understandably makes them suspicious and not unjustifiably hostile to any form of assimilation as it’s, again justifiably, presumed to be male-oriented.
“They’re right to be suspicious. I don’t want to say that they’re not. But Keens’ hope was that, if everyone could abandon all of the elements within bourgeois society that define people, the community with its symbols and the meanings derived from them…well, they would be able to truly associate with the other, the people by whom they are surrounded; they would be able to experience a type of context that would eliminate pretences that are largely based on the imperious nature of the other — the other who dictates what is desired, even if this other does not know it. But he knew it couldn’t be done without some type of pretence of his own. And, to a certain extent, he was right. Even among hard-core Marxists and radicals, there is that need to intellectualize everything in order to gain, at the very least, the respect of the community. If you just talk like a normal person, there's a good chance that you'll be dismissed as, at best, a fool, or, at worst, a reactionary.”
“So Keens was something of spiritualist, a guru?”
“No,” as he closes the door of the fridge. “He was an artist first and foremost. His aim was to turn people into pieces of living art, or living pieces of art — I forget. The idea was that people needed to be granted a context within an environment that was neither repressive nor artificial. He thought that all humans really sought thee things: love, creative work, and knowledge. He wanted a community that provided these things, but he was grounded enough to know that such a paradigm simply is not possible in any zeitgeist or episteme or whatever you want to call it, that promotes competition and discourages candor. He wanted a society without antagonisms, whether based upon class or sex or gender or race, and he wanted to allow it to flourish within the framework of leisure, as the freedom to participate in leisure, among the non-aristocratic or mercantile classes anyway, is one of the most important elements within twentieth century capitalism. He wanted a place in which there was nothing but people, people stripped of status and categorized, social identifiers.”
“A utopia.”
“In a manner of speaking.” He hands me the glass of water before he sits.
“Thanks.”
“But utopia paints a spurious picture. It, a utopia, can never be fully realized because it requires too much energy to maintain. The second law of thermodynamics forbids a sustained utopia — unless, of course, one is speaking of a utopia as envisaged by Orwell or Huxley. Regardless, Keens understood the problem.”
“That a true utopia is unattainable.”
“No, that it can only exist in the moment, perhaps only in the mind if you want to sound like a total jerk-off.”