Justin's World, Part 1 (edited)

Tell all the truth but tell it slant,
Success in circuit lies,
Too bright for our infirm delight
The truth's superb surprise;

As lightning to the children eased
With explanation kind,
The truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind

-Emily Dickinson


Justin hasn't actually interacted with a person since about 3 months after the day he moved downtown.  Hell, he'd hide his true nature from animals if he could.  He lives in a city where "downtown" is an actual place, not a direction.  Those first 3 months consisted of about 2 dozen sincere conversations that tended to follow a certain cycle of being impressed about other people, then depressed about himself, then he would get perspective and begrudge everyone else for not being better than him.  This cycle quickly stopped occurring in a logical order, leaving him bored and distant from the realm of cause and effect.

Justin latched onto Rick, the very first of his sincere conversations. For Justin, Rick was like that first jazz recording you purchased that you were convinced blew your mind until you realized they all sound like that.  This makes you feel ashamed and terrified, so you buy more and more jazz records, and you start going to jazz clubs. Rick's first jazz album happened long before Justin was around, and he has realized nobody actually gets jazz. They meet at an actual jazz club which is popular mostly because it has a really large partially outdoor area where people can smoke cigarettes and order drinks, and the live jazz is audible yet far away enough to talk over, so it feels like you're in an old movie.  Tonight Justin is with Rick and Rick's friends at the jazz club.  Rick is with Jess's friends, and Jess is with Israel's friends, and Israel came there by herself.  They were trying to convince Justin to hook up with Michele. "I would sleep with her if she didn't... exist so hard."  This came as a relief to the group.  Israel confirmed, "Actually, yeah that's a good way to put it." Rick says, "Yeah, he does that pretty well."  Jess adds, "I know, which is great, that's exactly the sort of presence Michele needs right now." "Ironic, non?" Israel sometimes adopts the affectation of a sultry, world-weary French woman.  It is estimated that every time she does, she saves herself 4 hours of reading or 2 hours of considering the human condition.

Justin changes the subject, "Rick how do you and Jess manage? You both have all these projects... I can't even keep track of your projects... maybe that's why I'm single, all I do is try to keep track of your projects.  What are you guys working on right now?"  When you don't really care about the answer to a question, sometimes its emotional depth and invasiveness go unnoticed.  Rick replies, "We're collaborating on a photography project actually." "Oh are one of you modeling for the other?" Jess continues, "Not exactly." Rick takes over, "So I was sitting at Nonna's, you know, that coffee house on Walnut? And I was editing photos for a wedding I did.  Dude, both families were LOADED, and big time assholes but I'll be able to splurge on the latest version of Final Cut because of them.  These narcissistic fucks actually paid me to follow them around for the bachelor and bachelorette parties.  It was so awkward. There was so much crying and apologizing. These people are crazy. Anyway, as I sort through hundreds of pics of drunk people in thousand dollar outfits, I felt someone watching me. So I turned around unexpectedly, and this woman's eyes shoot around like she was following a fly.  So I thought, "No fuckin' way, that woman was looking at my screen", and lord knows what she thought.  If she's not a photographer herself, how does she know those pictures are work and not just my weekend?  Then I looked around the room, and that's when it hit me: Almost everybody in that room was a photographer.  Everybody was editing photographs on their laptop and loading them to their website.  I could see weddings and other paid gigs, and some experiments." "Wow, you're giving the long version." "That's alright, keep going, I love it!" Israel encourages people's indulgences the way alcoholics encourage others to drink.  "So I decide to start taking pictures of people in coffee shops editing pictures. I already have two coffee houses that want me to hang 15 pieces."  Justin replies, "So meta! But where does Jess come in?" "I distract them!  I start a conversation..." "And she wears these ridiculous outfits and costume jewelry, it's quite an act."  Justin jokes, "It would take all that to distract people from your beard."  Rick has a huge beard.  He and Jess have domesticated a duck for companionship and for the eggs, and Rick waterproofs his beard by rubbing it against the duck's ass every other day.

More people start to join the group.  It's Saturday, so Justin drinks sidecars until he loses track of who he is speaking to, referencing parts of the evening to people who were not present for them.  Nobody calls him out on it. A caustic one-hitter of charred bud is passed to him a few times, and the person who keeps giving it to him who may as well be Rick asks if he is still trying to write the novel that captures the particular angst of his generation. "Shit's fuckin' archaic. Who really pays attention to novels except fuckin' other writers? Why don't I just make a Myspace bulletin about the particular angst of my generation instead?"  He reaches a state of mind where he usually rants at length, but realizes he has spread that rant throughout the evening with disapproving glares and sneering double entendres where instead of sex, the second meaning is "fuck you" and he's talking to himself. He wakes up partially naked on his floor, having failed to successfully masturbate, and miserably hungover.  He burps and realizes that instead of ordering water, he probably ordered pernod several times.

That afternoon Justin meets Rick at Essence, an eatery with really edgy menu and truly incendiary usage of glass and white and green bathroom tiles that closes at midnight. "Yeah I'll take a food menu. I'm starving."  Rick was confused.  "Didn't you just text me from Morning Glory?"  Justin did go to Morning Glory Cafe, where he ordered a coffee and spent half an hour staring at the menu trying not to puke until an allergy attack started.  After the second sneeze he began to feel self-conscious about enduring an allergy attack just to have a meal.  He felt like he was broadcasting that he wanted to be there too much.  It was revealing to much about him. He goes to Morning Glory regularly, usually alone, and without usually conversing with anyone, so he already feels like a creeper.  "It would be an act of desperation to stay a moment longer", he thought. So he threw cash on the table and bolted.

Justin looked at the menu and excused himself to use the bathroom, which inexplicably featured exposed brick, completely at odds with the rest of the restaurant's design, which resembled an Apple store.  He picked two protruding bricks to support himself as he dipped his head into the bowl to minimize the sound of impact.  Given his condition, he wasn't surprised to feel the room spinning and sinking, but when he opened the bathroom door to use the communal sinks to discreetly clean his face, he found himself in a room full of mirrors that was not the room he entered the bathroom from.  A face appeared in all the mirrors and addressed him by name.  "Congratulations, Justin.  You have hit the switch to unlock the power of your true potential.  You will now be given the opportunity you've probably always dreamed of: to write the novel that captures the particular angst of your generation.  You now have the power to have your wisdom reach the masses.  However, with opportunity of course comes conditions.  If you do not write a novel that captures the particular anxiety of your generation in two weeks time, you will be sucked into the mirror.  Go forth now, and complete your mission!"

Thoughts of a Dancing Man (And the Waitress He's Courting)

I saw her earlier, I hope she hasn't left yet. Well if she was still here then she's probably closing.

Ok, 25 minutes left and I'm leaving.  If Jeannette thinks I'm going to stay late and wrap silverware off the clock because she spent all night flirting w/ Kalan again...  Was that guy just dancing?

Should I face the back wall?  I mean, why would I face the doorway?  If I face the wall, it will look like I really just don't even care if people see me. I'll just look like a guy casually practicing his hip hop dance routine in an empty room at a café.  No wait, I've seen the way I look from behind, my arms look super boney and the back of my head comes to a point. Plus I need to make eye contact with her and look all young and optimistic, like I haven't been defeated by the world. I'm pretty sure that's been my problem. Girls like a guy who has dreams and ambitions.  Otherwise the relationship just turns into codependency.  

Do I want to walk by that room again?  It looked like he had headphones on, so that means I don't have to acknowledge him, right?  I could walk around the other way... DAMMIT! Roger is over there, and he'll definitely say something to me, I've been avoiding him all night.  Ugh.  "Regulars" at a cafe is just a fancy word for stalkers who tip.

I wonder if she has ambitions like I do.  She works as a waitress at a cafe right now, but maybe she goes to ASU? This is a bit of a drive from ASU.  Wait, this place is closer to Grand Canyon University than ASU.  Fuck, that would mean she's weird and Christian.  Is someone being Christian reason enough to not date them?  No way, that can't be right! That would make me a bigot or something, right? I mean, I don't know if I'd be down with waiting until marriage for sex, but maybe I could convince her to go all the way sooner... like maybe a few weeks? Wait, is what I am thinking about rape?   

Fuck, I still need to clear out that room.  What if there's someone in there? That would be so creepy.  Should I like, ask Joe to go kick him out?  He looks so young and optimistic though, like he hasn't been defeated by the world.

Oh shit, here she comes!  She's... she's totally ignoring me and trying to clean the tables. SHIT, she thinks I'm a weirdo.  I should just get out of her way.  Yeah, and I'll mutter things about my routine, like a... a soliloquy and shit, like I'm a tortured genius!  I can totally imagine someone being interviewed about their rise to fame and their humble beginnings practicing in alleys and in the back rooms in coffee houses.  I'm just working hard, I'm so focused and I don't even notice she's there.  I'm dedicated, and I don't even give a shit about her. Girls like a guy who seems like he doesn't give a shit.

Oh god he's one of those people who says all of his thoughts out loud like he's narrating his life, even when nobody is around.  Well, I'm around, but I don't count.  Wait. No, I totally count. Why the fuck is he saying this shit out loud when I'm in the room? I gotta tell him he can't do this here.

Other customers? What other customers?  Man, I can't take this, she's walking all over me.   I gotta come back with something or she won't respect me.

Oh god that was so awkward.  Of course the room was empty, he probably scared everyone out.  It felt good to confront someone though.  Does that make me an oppressor?  Am I the world weighing down on him? Crushing his dreams?  Oh man, I totally want to go tell Jeannette about this... but if I do that I'll be roped into wrapping up silverware for sure.

Wait, she's standing just outside the doorway... I can see her shadow.  Play it cool, maybe she's about to come back in and apologize. Nope, she's walking away... yeah, she's definitely going to tell her coworkers about me.  Now for the walk of shame.  I'll leave my headphones on.  Shit, the cord hits the floor.  I'll just wrap it up and put it in my pocket.

Blend

Carter kept discreetly turning the volume up using the steering wheel, cursing every ambient, non-anthemic track on the latest M83 album as Jaime used an affected voice to sound strained to speak over the layers of synth. "I don't really like donuts anymore.  Especially not for breakfast." Carter opens the window at a stoplight and says, "I hope you didn't see too much this morning". Jaime takes this moment to light up the third cigarette since they woke up 20 minutes ago.  "We don't have to- I don't like to bring that up right away, for obvious reasons, I guess.  It's all good though, we'll be there in 10 minutes."  They were both fully convinced the other was about to implode under the tension. "It was a good night, great crowd, man."  "I hope I'm not towed." "Nah, the meters are on weekdays."  "Yeah, I guess that's the benefit of having these in shitty neighborhoods."

Carter and Jaime met the previous night at a huge warehouse party.  Carter was with a group of friends who all took one car, and they found a spot just quiet enough to converse, but still near the action.  Carter says, "I hate it when people get drunk at these."  Someone in the group was experiencing their first warehouse party where everyone uses Blend, and they set down their drink sheepishly. "Why? Do they act like assholes?" Carter gestures towards someone apologizing to a few indignant people. "Did you see that?  Someone keeps bumping into people, and they keep getting offended and arguing." "Oh right! Because if someone crashes into you it means they are not attracted to you."  Carter's friend gives the room a once-over.  "I can still see everyone. Does that mean I'm attracted to everybody, like I'm bi? When does it kick in?" "Give it another 15 minutes. You'll know.  Like, every part of someone you're not attracted to will fade and blend in, and the parts that turn you on will be all you see of them.  It'll be like black light, you know? And the sexy parts will glow, everything else will be hard to see.  That's why you gotta move slowly and not get wasted." "If I get drunker, won't more parts of people look sexy?"  They laughed as a group. "That's such a first-timer joke! I'm so glad you came, it gets so serious here."

Jaime was with two friends, and they kept moving from table to table.  "Oh my god, I feel like such a degenerate here.  Why do they host these in such shitty neighborhoods?" Jaime shrugs, distracted, distant.  "Where else are they gonna get the space?"  "They just need to rent out like, a whole night club or something.  I'd totally pay extra.  It'd weed out all the assholes."  Jaime's friends enjoy speaking loudly and derisively about people as they walk by, Jaime knows that you shouldn't go to a Blend party alone.  "And the people who just keep coming here over and over and over... I'm tired of seeing them!" "More like not seeing them..." "Why do people drink at these?  If you are on fucking Blend and you still can't talk to someone, you just need to go back to internet dating."  Jaime takes out a vial. "Will you two stop complaining and let's just take these? I like to take them at the same time so we disappear all at once and none of us are left sitting around.  Like last week." "Aww, but you sure did find us eventually, isn't that right?"

"What if I don't find any parts of you guys attractive?" Carter loves coaching first timers. "Well most people find something attractive about everybody.   But once we start to disappear, it's best to split up." Someone else chimes in, "That's the awesome part! Unlike other group singles events, it like, really forces you to branch away from using your friends for safety.  If you see someone, and they see you, you automatically know there's a connection."  Carter butts back in,  "It beats internet dating. That's why I'm here, anyway." "That's why everyone's here." "And if you don't like someone once you see them the morning after, nobody gets offended!" The first timer grew nervous. "Is that- Does that happen all the time? That sounds shitty. Can't I just tell someone to grab me in certain spots before we leave together? So they know there aren't any deal breakers?"  "No, you just gotta not be a pussy about it." One of the group is growing impatient.  Carter pushes back, "No, shut up, that's not true.  If you like someone and you feel shy about rejection, just ask them on a date. If someone won't accept you for who you are, flaws and all, they're not worth your time." "Yeah, this isn't like, an orgy or something.  There's nothing to be worried about."

"This place is basically an orgy. There's no connecting happening here other than genitals." Jaime can't wait for the dose to take effect and disappear, and has two options: make new friends, or try and relate to these two until the trip starts and direct communication is prohibited unless your friend is clearly making a mistake.  "Definitely for some people.  The true benefit, really the entire purpose of this is that it cuts through so much of the bullshit and awkwardness so you can meet someone and move on to the good stuff." "Yeah, this place is definitely turning into a hookup scene for some people."  "Exactly! You can tell when people are scene because they have their Blend party uniform." "Hah, yes! A few people tell you they like your eyes or your legs or your/ tits or your cock bulge or whatever and you start framing them with your outfits"  "The most definitive one, and maybe I'm the only one who has run into this, is they won't give their name out." "Yeah! Some shit about respecting the collective memory." "It was explained to me that our ownership of memories is a like and that they are really shared and borrowed.  I tried to argue, and they just ask me to prove them wrong." "I always want to tell them off"  "I'm never ready when they approach me!  I've always got a good comeback like, the next day when I'm sitting at my desk."

"OK, 5 more minutes then we separate."  Carter just explained that it's a faux pas to cling to a friend when they're on Blend "So like, does it work with movies?" "I don't know, look at that screen."    "Why doesn't it work on movies?" "Are you thinking about having sex with movies?  I don't know about the brain science behind it or whatever, but it affects that part of your perception."  "I'd have sex with that movie!  Who decides on these?" "Eh, it's a bunch of pretentious art house crap. Nobody comes here to see the movies. If you're talking to someone and they start watching the movies, that means they're not interested." "But I thought that once someone looked at you it meant they were interested." "Yeah, but people change their minds. Look, the Blend doesn't do all the work for you, you have to use your own judgement." Carter scanned the room to plan her escape. "I think I see someone. I'm gonna go for it. Good luck!"

Carter approaches the first coherent series of features and is pleased to see a familiar face says, "Oh hey, I remember you."  The features replied, "I doubt it, I just moved here. But I've been going to Blend parties since the bathrooms at Krush were still gender segregated, if that means anything to you.  Did you go to any parties in the Bay Area scene? Maybe we hooked up there?" "No.  Are you sure? I just... what's your name?" "Let's not do names, you can call me Anonymous.  What are you seeing?" Carter hesitantly proceeded, "Your calves and your hair and your eyes, especially your eyebrows... and most of your torso. I'm sure that we- didn't we?" The anonymous attractive figure replied, "Individual memory is just a puddle next to a river, all we need to do is connect it." "Yeah, you have been going to these for a while." "What's that supposed to mean?"  "'Let's not do names'? Individual memory? River?  You actually read that book."  "'The End of Individuality?" "Yeah, that. Sorry, I just thought that book was rubbish."   "Well pardon my directness, but you've obviously done your share of Blend.  How do you know... what do you hold on to that tells you that you are remembering separate people and not just a shared composite of all the people you, y'know, blend with? And all of their memories?"  "Sorry, I just don't buy that far into this, this is just a hangover-free good time for me."  Anonymous could not see Carter's eyes, but was pretending to stare into them.  "I am an analyst for a major software company that I will not mention out of good taste, and I run my own freelance PR consulting firm. If you're implying that I'm some sort of addict with no life, you've made a mistake." "Well, my name is Carter. Enjoy your night."

Jaime had witnessed this exchange from nearby.  "Was that your first experience with a Blend Buddha?"  Carter was startled.  "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just approached you like that. Am I here?" "Oh you are definitely there, sorry, I'm just a little shaken.  Definitely not my first, but certainly my best. That felt good, I'm glad someone was there to witness that." Carter's eyes fixed on Jaime as they best could as names were exchanged. "I almost wanted to intervene, but you seemed to be doing just fine." "I almost wish they would just make Blend illegal, that'd get rid of all the... those people." "Yeah, I feel like this is ecstasy for obnoxious yuppies.  I wish there was a way to just filter them out." A few of Carter's and Jaime's friends walk past and say nothing, which is a standard way to approve of a friend's catch.  They both look at the other's group unknowingly.  "People dressed like that might as well just go to a regular night club." "Yeah, I mean if you bare most of your flesh-" "Everybody likes flesh!"  "I guess it makes it OK for them to move around so fast though." "Yeah, like when I really need to get to the bathroom I should just take off all of my clothes." "Yes, you should."

Soon Carter and Jaime are in a corner kissing with equal parts passion and curiosity, both escalating.  Jaime senses the romantic bubble moving carelessly in the proximity of an unseeable spike, so reigns it in with words, "I hate how this encourages people to be so... crass with each other." "Oh I don't know, I think honesty is my favorite part.  You can't say anything to people about their appearance anymore without worrying about hurting someone's feelings.  Now words are a pleasant indulgence." "You have amazing legs." "A very pleasant indulgence" "...and your shoulders... your jaw... and your neck." Carter pushes and pulls Jaime into a certain spot, "I love the way you look at me."  The last kisses recede like melting iced cream. Carter asks, "Did you drive here?" "Yeah, but I don't Blend and drive. Could you imagine living with the guilt of running someone over because they weren't sexy enough?"  They laughed and left and found a cab.

Jaime is considering this moment as the wind howls in Carter's car on the way back to the warehouse after a night of technically proficient and occasionally intimate sex.  "You're completely over the dose, right?  Can you see those ugly kids over there?" Carter was supposed to laugh. "What's up with all these ugly kids? Must be something in the water."  Carter gave a laugh so forced it was borderline hostile. "So what are you up to today?" "Oh, groceries, laundry, balance sheets..." Jaime could feel the pending arrival as Carter went through the errands.  Jaime was sorting a list of possible failures of the past 10 hours. All the questionable moments were traced to a sense of familiarity, of having known Carter for years and being able to say anything.  In the moment, that sense justified bold statements of ennui and references to very specific and obscure feelings.  Was that all just a product of the drug?

Jaime makes a last ditch effort.  "So did you really see the most of me out of everyone here?"  Carter replies as though not listening, "I'm sorry about earlier, you were right. About the 'seeing too much' comment.  You don't want to get all self-referential or whatever right away.  Well anyway, I'll find you on Facebook. You're friends with Max Lang, right?" "I think so." "Cool, you got your keys?" "Yeah totally. Maybe we could go get a drink during the week?" "I'm really busy this week. But maybe I'll see you at the warehouse again?" "Yep, I'm sure I'll see you there."

Banksy

So here I am, on the PATH, on my way to check out the new Banksy graffiti in lower Manhattan. I'm really excited, these are all brand new pieces, the spray paint probably still aromatic.  I never remember to check out his art when I'm traveling, but now it's right here.  He said they'll be popping up all October, and with a toll-free number next to them that plays a recording of his commentary, like a museum guided tour.   His work is full of childish whimsy, which is typically lost when acquiring such a knack for social and political commentary.  It's sorta like a much more subversive Gary Larson.  I wonder if anyone has made that connection before?  Of course someone has, it's so obvious.  They probably wouldn't even bother to say it, it's such a shallow observation.  I'll give it the google test though, just to be sure.  Yep, well documented.

So it's at Allen and Canal St.  Chinatown.  Should I walk all the way there from World Trade to really get into the rhythm of the street and maybe recreate the moment of inspiration?  There are no crosstown trains to Chinatown anyway, remember when we learned that rushing for the Chintatown bus home that time?  Shit, maybe I should have taken that. But then I'd be stuck leaving the city by 10:30, and now that I'm unemployed, I can stay as late as I like. Plus I'd miss all this urban decay only viewable from the train.  Look at all those abandoned warehouses in those lots of cracked asphalt overgrown with tall grass along the Hudson, it's so toxic and post-apocalyptic.  I wonder how I would get there, there are no roads.  How would Banksy get there?  That whole building would be perfect for a Banksy piece, how many people would see it... 250,000 per day on average, according to sources.  I wonder what used to happen in that building? I wonder what their layoff notices were like?

The toll-free number is on his website... should I call it?  No, I should start trying to get into the right frame of mind. Banksy captures the human condition, the very same human condition that surrounds me in this train car.  I can see it in these people around me, all fish-eyed looking at their devices.  They need someone like Banksy to remind them of what they've all lost... by no fault of their own, of course.  I mean, what I've seen of Banksy's work he is very action-positive.  Action-positive can be a thing, right? That we can all make a choice to allow the world to affect us?  That it's not just all escapist Mickey Mouse culture? That we can do something, regardless of how ephemeral and insignificant?

It's 11:30 in the morning on a Wednesday.  I wonder how many people are victims of layoffs trying to explore the city in a way their 9-5 never permitted.  Those look like students, they seem busy and optimistic, and their faces are still taut, unworn by the "real world".  There's a tired woman with three children... why aren't they in school?  Do people wear ties to explore the city?  Do people take the subway to a job interview?  I wonder if there are other people from the Merck layoffs.  Can I claim solidarity with them even though I quit without notice after the announcement?  And I was just in the customer service pit?  Banksy says, "If you don't own a train company, then go and paint on one instead".  That's totally what sending that email felt like.  I guess since I have few responsibilities and am free to derail my life's course, it was my duty to use myself as a tiny wrench in the gears.  I'm sure that the groups I blind cc'd appreciated it, and that I did what they want to do, but had no way to show it that wouldn't get them in trouble.  That's what going to admire Banksy's street art is for me.  Showing my appreciation for that feeling of tiny revolution inside of me he sparks.

Should I listen to the recording at the number? Is that cheating?  Whatever, it's too distracting, I should just do it.  "...it's probably painted over by now".  That'd suck.  But wait, who is going to paint over it?  Especially with all the publicity for the city this is sure to draw.  I wonder if there will be police nearby guarding the wall.  What if there's a crowd?  Haha, maybe I'll take pictures of people taking pictures and post it on my blog.  No, that's too obvious, there'll probably be people doing that, too.  I'll make a people-watching project out of it and take pictures of people taking pictures of people.  Scratch that, I'm gonna feel too self-conscious taking pictures of anything, and I'd hate to have someone approach me and ask for an account of myself.  Maybe I'll look at the wall next door or across the street, sort of like performance art. No, that's stupid.  I'll just go to the restaurant across the street and have lunch, then go join the crowd. I'm hungry.  I don't really want Chinese though. If Banksy is lampooning museum tours, maybe I should go to the MoMA first.  I've always wanted to see the MoMA anyway, and they close, whereas I'm sure Banksy's piece will still be there later.  I'll hop on the 1 and head uptown, there will be more dining options there.  Today is awesome!