Sometimes laughter is mean; you don’t intend for it to be so…but somehow it gets there. Usually, when I say “I’m going to hell” or “I’m driving the bus (to hell)”, it’s because I feel like the snark might have snuck slightly over that line.
There’s laughing at someone, laughing with them or near them, there’s laughing at yourself…
But beyond the directionality of laughter, when you’re really in the midst of one of those deep laughs where you feel like you’ve pulled a muscle and you might not ever breath again, and the people laughing with you can’t even look at each other without starting again… I think maybe that might be something like Compassionate Laughter.
Maybe - its when you laugh at the ridiculousness of the world, and it laughs with you.
I found myself wanting to pick up blogging, but lacking the gumption to move on it because I couldn’t answer the question “What would it do, what good would it be for?”
Maybe, to find the dark funny without the mean - good dark, where the world is laughing at us as much as we are laughing back. Absurd, but gloriously so.