Read Online Very Recent History: An Entirely Factual Account of a Year (C. AD 2009) in a Large City by Choire Sicha - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Choire Sicha
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the occasion, from a less interesting
country. “How has your trip been?” John asked.
“Obviously I’ve been a huge slut, I’ve slept with someone every day,” the foreigner
said. The foreigner was wearing a slot machine sweatshirt, which is to say, a sweatshirt
with a slot machine pictured on it.
“That sounds like fun,” John said, meaning the opposite.
“Obviously I’m not as big a slut as John,” the foreigner said, meaning the other John,
the one that John was not really dating.
“Oh really?” John said, all interested now.
“Yeah, he’s slept with like four guys in the last five days,” the foreigner said.
Good to know, John thought.
Across the room John could see a friend, a mopey guy who never had much to say. His
hair was always overstylized, in that it was designed to fall over his eyes. He was
talking to this other boy—this really dramatically cute boy that John had heard about.
Friends had always said to him, over and over, John, you have to meet this guy, you
guys would really get along. Oh, we’ll really get along? John asked. No, not like
that, he’s basically married, everyone said.
But John had seen pictures of him on Facebook. There was one of this guy with a friend
where they were walking in the rain and he was so skinny and he had a buzz cut and
a weird but very pretty face and he was smoking a cigarette.
No way I’m saying hello to him first, John thought. He can say hello to me. So he
turned his back.
“Hey, John, you know Amy, right?” the mopey guy later came over to say.
“Yup,” John said.
“My friend Edward here is Amy’s best friend,” he said. “You should talk about Amy.”
And so John finally turned to Edward.
“I’m not interested in Amy,” John said to Edward, and he got up close. “I’m interested
in you.”
Edward’s back was up against a gumball machine. They talked. Edward was agitated and
lively and nervous and excited. When they at last looked around, most everyone was
long gone, except for Fred, a school friend of John’s, shambling by.
“John, I gotta get outta here,” Fred said.
“Yeah, you know, I guess I should go too?” Edward said.
John leaned in. “I’d really like it if you stayed for another drink,” he said.
“I’m going to stay for another drink,” Edward said and ran his hands through his hair.
Fred walked out oblivious.
They talked about where they lived. Edward lived not far away. “Oh, that’s so much
closer, we should just go over there,” John said.
“I should tell you,” Edward said, just out the door. “I have a boyfriend.”
John clapped his hands. Right.
“He’s, like, on vacation,” Edward said. “Right now he’s not home.”
“So, shall we?” John said.
“Uh, okay,” Edward said.
They walked the mile back to Edward’s place. Well, really: They went back to Edward’s
boyfriend’s place.
SOMETIMES WORK WAS just what you clocked into while you were falling in love. Sometimes sex was just
something you did while you weren’t at work. Drugs were something you did sometimes
when you couldn’t deal with one of those things, or with yourself. The City was so
expensive and so grueling sometimes that it was easy to be unsure why you were there.
Many were there to make money, money that could largely only be made there, in the
long spiny arms of industries that could never grow anywhere else or anywhere smaller.
Some people just liked it, its loudness and crowdedness and surprises. Some started
there for a reason and then couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, but maybe lost track
of that reason along the way. Some people had a plan. Some were just chancing it.
Either way the months flew by, and over the years you came up with something or you
came up with not much.
WORK THE NEXT day was a disaster. John was exhausted. The office was tense. John went over to a
bookshelf and threw everything on the ground.
Then he calmed
country. “How has your trip been?” John asked.
“Obviously I’ve been a huge slut, I’ve slept with someone every day,” the foreigner
said. The foreigner was wearing a slot machine sweatshirt, which is to say, a sweatshirt
with a slot machine pictured on it.
“That sounds like fun,” John said, meaning the opposite.
“Obviously I’m not as big a slut as John,” the foreigner said, meaning the other John,
the one that John was not really dating.
“Oh really?” John said, all interested now.
“Yeah, he’s slept with like four guys in the last five days,” the foreigner said.
Good to know, John thought.
Across the room John could see a friend, a mopey guy who never had much to say. His
hair was always overstylized, in that it was designed to fall over his eyes. He was
talking to this other boy—this really dramatically cute boy that John had heard about.
Friends had always said to him, over and over, John, you have to meet this guy, you
guys would really get along. Oh, we’ll really get along? John asked. No, not like
that, he’s basically married, everyone said.
But John had seen pictures of him on Facebook. There was one of this guy with a friend
where they were walking in the rain and he was so skinny and he had a buzz cut and
a weird but very pretty face and he was smoking a cigarette.
No way I’m saying hello to him first, John thought. He can say hello to me. So he
turned his back.
“Hey, John, you know Amy, right?” the mopey guy later came over to say.
“Yup,” John said.
“My friend Edward here is Amy’s best friend,” he said. “You should talk about Amy.”
And so John finally turned to Edward.
“I’m not interested in Amy,” John said to Edward, and he got up close. “I’m interested
in you.”
Edward’s back was up against a gumball machine. They talked. Edward was agitated and
lively and nervous and excited. When they at last looked around, most everyone was
long gone, except for Fred, a school friend of John’s, shambling by.
“John, I gotta get outta here,” Fred said.
“Yeah, you know, I guess I should go too?” Edward said.
John leaned in. “I’d really like it if you stayed for another drink,” he said.
“I’m going to stay for another drink,” Edward said and ran his hands through his hair.
Fred walked out oblivious.
They talked about where they lived. Edward lived not far away. “Oh, that’s so much
closer, we should just go over there,” John said.
“I should tell you,” Edward said, just out the door. “I have a boyfriend.”
John clapped his hands. Right.
“He’s, like, on vacation,” Edward said. “Right now he’s not home.”
“So, shall we?” John said.
“Uh, okay,” Edward said.
They walked the mile back to Edward’s place. Well, really: They went back to Edward’s
boyfriend’s place.
SOMETIMES WORK WAS just what you clocked into while you were falling in love. Sometimes sex was just
something you did while you weren’t at work. Drugs were something you did sometimes
when you couldn’t deal with one of those things, or with yourself. The City was so
expensive and so grueling sometimes that it was easy to be unsure why you were there.
Many were there to make money, money that could largely only be made there, in the
long spiny arms of industries that could never grow anywhere else or anywhere smaller.
Some people just liked it, its loudness and crowdedness and surprises. Some started
there for a reason and then couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, but maybe lost track
of that reason along the way. Some people had a plan. Some were just chancing it.
Either way the months flew by, and over the years you came up with something or you
came up with not much.
WORK THE NEXT day was a disaster. John was exhausted. The office was tense. John went over to a
bookshelf and threw everything on the ground.
Then he calmed
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