Chapters (21)
- Cover Page
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Table of Contents
- Bright Young Things campus of Clarkwell College, graduation in the town of Clarksville, somewhere upstate, 1990
- Cool Days open mike night at Kafka-fe, after band "2 Much" plays, 1991
- New on the Scene utside in front of Club Hush, for a film screening party of Kill Fee, 1993 o
- Single in the City at a French bistro, 1995
- Hangover brunch, the morning after, 1995
- Natural Health a chance meeting at Jasper’s Yoga Studio, 1996
- The Fat Flush ’90s in the foyer of a friend’s renovated brownstone, 1997
- Art Stars at Bonwyck Gallery, 1998
- Inner Odyssey the Burning Man festival in Nevada’s Black Rock Desert, 1999
- Life After Death facedown in the dirt of the desert, next morning, 1999
- Loyal Companions catching up at the dog run, 2000 catching up at the dog run, 2000
- In the Real World a run-in at the ShopShape magazine launch party sponsored by Senor Strawberry Liqueur, early 2001
- Wartime spotted at Kinko's, late 2001
- Office Job in the cafeteria of the Conde Nast building, 2003
- Settling a yard sale on an obscure block in the outer borough, 2003
- Starting Over in a remote village tavern on the farmlands of New Zealand, 2004
- Epilogue a gathering of friends
And everything seems colorless. Everything seems tan and flat. Bleached and refined. A bunch of bar codes and billboards and brightly packaged product. What's the inspiration in all that, right? And nothing is enchanting anymore. And you get on the subway, sitting across from some attractive person and think, "Wow, I used to believe this was my chance at love," and then you realize that there are no such things as chance meetings, no more chance happenings in life, no more chances at all, essentially. Because there is no magic. Because all those childish hopeful happinesses were just in your mind. Those Sesame Street books and colorful Candyland games and Chronicles of Narnia are just objects—just promises that were offered to you, all manufactured for you to believe in them, nothing more. And you sit there, dreamless, worried, deflated, wondering if this is how life ends up—and in, like, under ten years you'll just be wrinkled and sitting in a bay window with a vodka and Clamato looking out over the active traffic on the street, raving to the buses and neighbors and passersby about the noise. I don't mean you—you. I mean a general You.
This mirror is so beautiful. Are you sure you want to get rid of it? It makes you look so good! See? See? Look in the mirror. Look in the mirror.
What's wrong? This is not your normal voice. Your voice sounds different. Sort of. . . softer . . . like you are whispering in a dark, dark room.
You're not still on Askalar are you?
Yeah. Maybe it's time for you to get some air. Some distance in your life.
Yes . . .
Yes.
Starting Over in a remote village tavern on the farmlands of New Zealand, 2004
Starting Over
in a remote village tavern on the farmlands of New Zealand, 2004
Breaker! Breaker! Leave that bag of trash alone! Wait it's moving! Breaker, get away from the homeless person!
Oh I'm sorry, how awful. I apologize, sir . . . or ma'am . . . I just thought . . .
Hello? Is that you? How weird. I . . . can't. . . believe it! You're the last person I would expect to see here!
Wait! Come back, it's just me!
Careful! Don't slip on that—
Whup!
Ouch, that must have hurt. Are you OK? Come on, upsy daisy! Yeah, it's hard to get used to the wet climate here. It makes everything so slick. Here, sit down on this bench.
Wow it's so weird that you're here. But I guess it makes sense—everyone and their mother is moving to New Zealand these days after Lord of the Rings and all. So let me guess. You're here, trying to start over, getting away from the false fakeness of simulated city life—all that promotion and cruel competition you were sort of sucked into. I'm so glad to see you're getting back to basics after all that bad stuff.