Into a world of dreams and nightmares

About 4 weeks ago, a writer named Theresa Duncan reportedly killed herself in New York. She had a blog of some acclaim that until her death she updated daily. Her death was not widely reported even by by NY and LA papers and blogs — she’d recently moved from Venice Beach to the East Village — until after the disappearance of her longtime companion and collaborator, the artist Jeremy Blake. He walked into the ocean a week or so after finding her body in their apartment and was at that time presumed dead. Reports assert that a body was eventually recovered and identified as his through dental records. An ongoing investigation is presumedly underway, but as of this time no further information has been released nor have the texts of either of their last notes been released.

I read of Duncan’s demise most randomly on Valleywag, a website I rarely visit, on the morning of my 35th birthday. I felt some shock because her website had become a staple of my blog diet and I felt certain I had just read an update, but no her last obscure post dated July 10th, the date of her passing, was the last instance of my remote interaction with her web presence. Some personal websites or blogs offer a portrait, often a self-portrait, of a narrow portion of life focused on crafting, geekery, or parenting while other websites offer vistas or wide landscapes that showcase a certain portion of society. The ‘Wit of the Staircase’ offered a different kind of view that in my opinion made it stand out from the crowd and made it a memorable experience that took one out of the mundane. I reveled in the juxtaposition of the unusual images she used to illustrate her nebulous links and abstruse interests, but in the two years she blogged she revealed very little personal drama. Occasionally she asserted perplexing accusations and one could deduce she had more than a passing interest in what is demeaningly referred to as ‘conspiracy theory‘. One could not say they ‘knew‘ Theresa Duncan from her blog, but still her passing was very shocking.

There is something to this ‘story‘ that captures the imagination. There are so many questions left…Were they really harassed? (Probably.) Were they ‘mentally ill’? (Who isn’t as it all depends on who is giving the diagnosis.) And the answers will not be given by either of the two doomed lovers. Many are trying to put the pieces together, some are going for easy and cheap analysis while others are looking into the depths of the internet for meaning. I grieve for their families. There are no answers. My feeling is perhaps the meaning lies somewhere in the middle.

Something has been lost. Two lives are over and their deaths will resonate for the family and friends left behind. I will miss her sharp wit, her endless links that took me on an adventure far from the quotidian, and her superbly curated images that opened worlds before me.

May the elements of the rainbow colors not rise up as enemies;
May it come that all the Realms of the Buddhas will be seen.
May it come that all Sounds will be known as one’s own sounds;
May it come that all the Radiances will be known as one’s own radiances…