Back in October, I mentioned that I had bought the DVD of
New York Doll. I hadn't seen it, but had heard some rave rviews (like
THIS one), and I enjoyed it. It kind of made me sad, though. Although the story is much like a fairytale with a combination joyful-and-tragic ending, the thing I kept wondering throughout is why genius of any sort is so often accompanied by mental illness (to at least some degree, whether it's manic-depression or schizophrenia or some other affliction).
When I was a little girl, I learned about
Vincent Van Gogh and his art, letters, and biography were etched into my heart. Maybe I was always a little bit over-empathetic, but I just felt so sad that he felt so alone and so unloved. And he made beautiful, captivating pictures I loved (and still love). When I figured out that
the Don McLean song was about my beloved Vincent, it was one of the first cassette tapes I bought with my own money when I was about eleven.
I grew up and was still drawn to gentle geniuses. Or troubled geniuses, as I called them in a recent journal. I was terribly attracted to intelligence and talent, which was often accompanied by the drama of chemical imbalances. Almost all of the boys I loved before Rich (and many girl friends) fall into this category. One of them, my dear friend Kevin, even took his life after a long, long struggle and after making a long, long string of beautiful things like music, drawings, poetry, prose, and lots of good friends who could never reach his heart.
I am sure this has been studied and there is some medical explanation, but I can't wait to talk to God and figure out how that fits into the Big Picture. Like, why?--is it just a matter of fairness? If you're going to be excellent at this and this, you will also get this "Achilles' heel" of depression (or what ever). Or you're blessed with accute sensitivity, which will allow you to create amazing things, but will also allow you to be irreversibly stung by the meanness of The World. Is that how it all went down? I'm just curious.
Anyway, I enjoyed the movie (and I loved the extra clip of
David Johansen singing "
Come, Come Ye Saints," probably the most beloved Mormon hymn ever. Classic). And I liked being reminded of all the gentle geniuses that have graced my life, and remembering Kevin for a moment.
Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now
For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left inside
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.