Imaginary Socialite

Lately, my friends have been saying things are “so emo.”

Usually, this means things are…

1) trying too hard

2) adorable but underage and wearing too much eyeliner

3) something you do in secret, like watch TRL.

But today, we saw something on the street that wiped all that away. A guy walking down the street with his girlfriend wearing the icky McQueen skull scarf AS A SLING.

Meanwhile, his arm looked completely unharmed, though wearing a black cast for no reason could have put him totally over the edge…

[ELENI GAGE - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Dear Girl in my Dance Class,

I think I called you fat and I’m very sorry. When I said, “You’re so much better at this than me – I can’t shake my ass because I don’t have one,” I only meant that I have a really flat, totally non-existent, not sexy butt.

I didn’t mean that you had a big butt.

Althoug I guess yes, you do have a big butt, but lots of gorgeous girls have big butts, and lots of weird girls – like me, have no butts. And your butt, while big, is totally cute.

Not that I was checking out your butt because I so wasn’t.

Anyway.

Um.

Back to regular updates tomorrow, promise, and if anyone has a new dance class I can go to, please tell me, because I definitely can’t take that one again…

[JANE FONDA - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

It strikes me as very New York that a band would plaster New York with posters of a concert that’s already sold out.

It’s a little like telling girls what you’ll wear to the Met Ball.

Or about the vague celebrity you kissed in the Gramercy bathroom.

Or how the brunch menu was so much better last season.

Or how fun the party was last night and why weren’t you there?

Not that we’ve ever done those things…

[TATIANA SANTO DOMINGO - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

When the boy is late for dinner, I think of other guys.

More specific:

I think of Ethan Hawke in Before Sunrise. He says the world only made so many souls, and when its population surged, the souls were shredded and shared.

His idea: People are less potent now because they only have scraps of souls inside of them.

My memory: Too early in the morning, when you shut the shades and slid into bed shaking with sleep. You spooled a fist of my hair and said, “I’ve never met the girl version of me before.” I passed out and then we had ice cream for breakfast.

And now I think we were probably once the same soul, and that’s why we can’t be close. We know the things that can’t change, and those things root us both.

My idea: We hate ourselves sometimes, which means we hate each other.

The boy shows up for dinner. He puts his arm around me on the street, and it feels a little like dessert, or getting nine hours of sleep without panic.

[KIM ALEXIS - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]