now, all I had been missing was excess joy. The epiphany came the other day when I had a little excess joy during the day (you know, an overflow) and I was chatting up the guy in The Subway Shop about having to deal with homeless people when I sit by the window and eat my sub. I have now decided that it’s better to hide a bit at the back of The Subway Shop, because King Street in Hamilton can sometimes be a lively place, and I just want to eat my lunch, not get involved. People will see me in The Subway Shop window looking prosperous and ask me for money, or much worse, one guy once asked me if I was a homosexual which was unnerving — as I am one, but that is an antique term. Anyway I was in possession of a little excess joy, so I chatted up the guy behind the counter (could he be gay?) who is always so nice to me, and who once said ‘you look very different today’ which was encouraging — because it seems to me to be a virtue not to always look the same. And I began to think about the fact that I have absolutely had no excess joy to share with anyone for a very long time. I have a naturally frowny dour face, and apparently am intimidating— with my pierced ear and tattoos (I’m not trying to look intimidating, just sexy — but I guess sometimes it amounts to the same thing). So people don’t normally talk to me; I have to talk to them. And sometimes when I am in possession of excess joy, I do, and it’s fun. So where did all my excess joy go to? Well, COVID-19 took it. And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to me that eliminating excess joy is what COVID-19 was all about. I mean that’s what the authorities were telling us all the time: ‘You should be able to put up with this, I mean surely you can manage to make do with simple — old-fashioned — joy — what do you need with an excess of it?” To must of us, because we are puritans who are descended from a long line of pleasure-exorcising, self-flagellating crazies (that is our Empire Loyalist Heritage in Ontario) this sounded pretty reasonable. (It’s important to note that I am speaking of nice middle class people when I speak of this excess joy. When it comes to the working classes, or worse yet, the homeless and the very poor, COVID-19 meant much more than just missing a little excess joy, it meant madness, addiction and death. I am still counting the bodies of the friends — they are still slowly piling up, as the isolation of COVID-19 has had slow and chilling after effects). But for us middle class types, it sounded easy -- at first -- to give up a little excess joy. So let me define excess joy right now. Regular joy is -- satisfaction. I think the best way to look at it is in terms of orgasms. Orgasms, are by definition excess joy. The reason God made us this way (or mother nature, or whoever you think is in charge) is because sex is kinda fun -- but orgasms are really fun, and if a man has an orgasm then he will impregnate a woman, which God apparently wants, I guess. There are those of course who think that orgasms are not necessary, who just put up with them in order to make sure that the earth is fully populated (but of course we know that is no longer an issue). Similarly there are those who think that simple old-fashioned joy is quite enough. You know, reading a book and being engaged but not inspired, or watching TV on some device that passes the time, you know, being entertained, having bad sex out of obligation, chatting with a boring person just to be nice and well, you know.... That is what I would call good old fashioned simple joy. But an excess of joy means that you are having an exquisite time, and for me that only happens at parties or with friends, and when I’m writing, or at a great play or movie, or watching HBO, or (yes of course) having orgasms. The fact of the matter is that all ‘art’ could be considered an excess of joy. You see, there is your mundane life, and sure, there are lovely sunsets and petting the dog — these are uncomplicated pleasures that everyone has at their fingertips, and of course if people are Zen enough, they can enjoy them and be satisfied. But what I am making an argument for here (perhaps you can tell I was warming up to this) is that we need the 'excess of pleasure,' well -- a little more than we think we do. In other words it’s not enough just to be satisfied (or worse yet to ‘get what you need’). What life is really about — and what we actually live for — is an excess of pleasure -- what is a special, unworldly, unmatchable, indescribable experience beyond pleasure -- divine, ecstasy -- OMG!— you know what I mean. Because life is basically dreadful (I hope you are still with me here) meaning we are all eventually going to get sick and die — or if we are very lucky, we are simply going to die — and because life routinely refuses to live up to our expectations. And people — well I just don’t know where to start with them — but they constantly disappoint, infuriate and just drive us nuts with their inability to be what we want them to be most, i.e. perfect in the sense that they not only fulfill our needs and make us happy but make us ecstatic in some way (it’s not always about literal orgasms). So we must have something else! This is excess joy…. bubbling over, it is art, it is artifice it is what is beyond -- well, reality -- and we all need it, and it’s really what we live for whether we admit it or not. So what I’m saying is that COVID-19 not only took away something we really need, but something which many of us can’t do with out, and on top of that, COVID-19 made it seem like we shouldn’t really need it at all. So here we are, pretending that we do not need or want excess joy; and I for one am apoplectic. (I had to look that word up, but it seemed right — and it is — “overcome with anger, extremely indignant”).
