You are on my website, though on is a term I can’t define or really explain. Whatever it means, very few people are on this website. Occasionally one of them is my mother, and last week I received a text from her that read,
When I clicked on your website it took me to a Turkish porn site.
Obvious questions arose. Dear Mother, why have you been searching for Turkish porn?? She had no convincing responses. I checked my website and am sad to report she was mistaken: no links exist between this site and any Turkish porn. For this I am sorry, though I’m confident savvy readers can resolve this shortcoming on their own.
One interesting question has stuck with me: Is anything on this website better than Turkish porn?
The night before my mother texted I went to a literary reading. Generally I avoid these like the plague but occasionally my curiosity gets the better of me. Two stories were read. That’s all you need to know about the reading. When I wondered, Were either of those stories better than Turkish porn?, my answer was No.
I’ll acknowledge that I don’t watch Turkish porn. This isn’t because I’m anti-Turkish. Rather, watching porn has never left me feeling good. For that reason I avoid it like literary readings. From this you may reasonably wonder: If I don’t watch Turkish porn how can I say those stories weren’t better than it?
To compose this I briefly considered binging on Turkish porn only to realize no essay could justify that. I’m going to assume Turkish porn is like all porn, only with more body hair. And so I reiterate my above conclusion: the stories at that reading were not better than Turkish porn. If that’s true, then what value do those stories have? They gave me little but that’s the extent of my measurement capacities. I imagine they had great value to the people who wrote them. Those authors likely feel their stories are better than Turkish porn, but they can compose their own defenses.
Why did I go to that reading? Because I wanted something essential. I did not get it, but once you get past the marketed promises that course is rarely served. I was entertained (-ish, and very lightly), but I do not need more entertainment. Entertainment is not essential to my life.
Essential is a high standard but that shouldn’t stop our reaching after it. The word comes from the Latin Esse, which is how Romans said, To be. The opposite of To be is… not entirely clear, but hopefully you get that idea that the essential is what you can’t live without. Oxygen is essential. Food and water are essential. Shelter is essential. Social connections are essential. Nourishing our souls is essential, and one thing we often consume to do that is called Art.
Our culture is awash in what we’re assured is art, but if art is the thing that nourishes our souls why am I still so ravenous?
When I look around I find that most of what we call art is a synonym for entertainment. While art can be entertaining I don’t believe that’s the well it springs from. My reasons will repeat what I said above: entertainment is not essential to my life.
Since my mother texted me I attended a theater production that has received numerous awards. I found it entertaining (-ish) but there was nothing in it that I needed. It was far, far from essential for me, though once again: I’m certain the people who made it had a different experience.
I’m aware I’m the lowest common denominator strung across the above examples, but I don’t think I’m the problem (though I suppose that’s exactly what I’d say even if I were the problem). I’m picky but not incapable of enjoying a good PB&J.
Most of what’s on this site is entertaining. Sometimes it’s more. That speaks to movement: you figure out you need more; then you figure out how to make that so you can feed yourself. Along the way maybe you find others who share similar cravings. You hone your palate but don’t need to chew much to recognize the zesty metallic zing of the less-than.
French fries are entertaining. They’re great fun. You can even survive on them. Only barely.