Imaginary Socialite

[NICHOLAS KIRKWOOD - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

The sun stabs through my shades and I still haven’t slept.

It’s your fault, but you’re probably proud of it. It’s your fault, but you’re awake, too. Maybe our skin made a sleepless pact when it pushed too hard through the rest of our bodies. Maybe we’re just still high on cigarettes and skipping lines and other people’s spilled drinks. Either way, my gut’s still got the shimmers.

I actually hate it, the whole idea of planning myself around someone else. I don’t want to be quiet just because you’re sleeping. I don’t want to be naked just because you’re sexed. I said I’d never do it. But today I went outside for a Coke and I plopped myself too close to your stairwell, and swung my legs like Alice on the Wall.

I couldn’t stop laughing and I couldn’t stop hating, and the fizz in my stomach turned sour and warm at the same time. And I thought if I had to be tied to you, not always but sometimes, then maybe a part of me – the one I keep ignoring – could finally keep still.

Thank god you didn’t see me. But yeah, I wish you did.

[DAN HOERNER - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Scene: the back of a very jammed party in a rickety vintage box on West Broadway. To your left, Mischa. To your right, all the reasons to walk away.

Imaginary Socialite: Hi.

Made 4 Chanel: Heyyyyy.

Imaginary Socialite: Dude, did we change the rules yet? Are we talking to each other again?

Made 4 Chanel: No, actually.

Imaginary Socialite: Okay. I’ll get out of your way then.

Made 4 Chanel: Hey, wait. Hold up. Your lipstick, you’ve got some right – wait, come here. I just want you to fix this one corner…

Imaginary Socialite: Nope. You can’t tell me what I need to fix if we’re not talking!

Made 4 Chanel: Oh yeah…

Imaginary Socialite: K bye.

Made 4 Chanel: Talk to you later.

Imaginary Socialite: But we’re not talking!

Made 4 Chanel: Yeah, but… whatever. I mean…

Imaginary Socialite: You’re totally laughing. I made you laugh.

Made 4 Chanel: Yeah. That’s not a surprise.

The Imaginary Socialite runs all the way home. The end.

[DORTHEA JORGANSEN - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

You know that I was hoping that I could leave this star-crossed world behind

But when they cut me open, I guess I changed my mind

And you know, I might have flown too far from the floor this time

Cause they’re calling me by my name…

[MICHELLE OCHS - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]

Once you asked what made me so invited. I think it’s because I really miss the time I knew without anger. I should explain.

I knew without anger the way most kids knew without sex. They heard about it, maybe even saw their parents doing it, but because it didn’t exist in their world, they slid it away as something else – something outside themselves, something they don’t care to know. They just kept going, through cartoons and crunched leaves and smears of grilled cheese.

I always knew about sex, somehow, but anger – I had no idea. And then one day, I just… did. I saw anger everywhere, in everybody. The way a waitress put my water down too hard. The way my mom scrubbed a pot really fast, or really slow, and it scrapes the sink like something should die but it can’t. I see anger the way that creepy kid in the movie sees dead people.

I can’t make it go away, but I can shove it under the back of my brain, as long as I feel something similar, but not quite the same. You saw me shove it away, all the time, and you must have known. The way I take my hand, and ball it up until my nails crush into the crutch of my palm. I like to keep it there until it leaves marks.

Last year I was at a party with a psychic, and she took my palm and said I had two lifelines. She said I was very blessed because two lifelines meant I’d never be lonely. But I don’t have a real second line, it’s just the scars from my nails that keep cutting me down. I guess it’s dangerous to fake another lifeline, but I didn’t do it on purpose.

What is on purpose: Me calling you back. Because let’s face it, you’re the worst friend I’ve ever had. I knew you would be, right from the beginning, right when we said “hi” at the same time, but here’s the thing:

That’s why I loved you.

Anyway, take care. Maybe one day you’ll get what you want, which is what I already have, and then hopefully you’ll realize – it doesn’t mean what you think it does. Actually, it doesn’t mean anything. And right now, I have to make myself believe that you don’t mean anything, either.

Oh, also: I have to get ready for this thing tonight, so can I have that dress back? Just leave it outside my door. I can’t let you in.

[M WARD - AM I THE IMAGINARY SOCIALITE?]