A Little Inspired by Bright Lights, Big City

So, after rereading Bright Lights, Big City, I was just really feeling it and decided to write this.

You push through the tightly-packed crowd of people in the hallway. At 3 AM, the distressing warehouse party is still in full swing. You shove your way into the main room and look up to find a girl hanging from the ceiling, thrashing wildly. You watch as one of her shoes falls into the abyss of dancing bodies. 

You are not the type to go to these parties. You would normally never be caught dead here, choosing to instead spare yourself the ignominy and pain. But there you are, somewhere in Brooklyn, trapped between a girl decked in a purple dress with the hair to match and a man who had higher heels than her, neither of whom of eminent in this group. Although you smell strongly of some unknown beer, you have only consumed diet soda all night. Your natural repugnance toward alcohol increased when a  partygoer spilled their entire drink over your head. Purposefully. 

You continue moving in search of your cousin. He is the reason you’re here. He arrived in New York only three days before and has already dragged you to seven different places that are so far from your comfort zone, they are almost on another planet. The last time you saw Zachary, your cousin, he was graduating from Yale and starting his life journey, which would no doubt end in him ruling corporate America. He was erudite and amiable enough, although bland. Compared to him, you appeared exciting. But now, Zachary goes by Z, works in a record store in West Hollywood, and happens to be the type of person who enjoys warehouse parties at 3 AM with girls hanging from the ceiling. When you drove him to your apartment from the airport, you questioned his change.

“Man,” Z began after gulping down half a Budweiser. “I just had a revelation, you know? I met this guy who just showed it all to me. All of it. He showed me that I needed to change. No more business. No more of that satanic capitalist, greedy lifestyle. Just simple living. New things, parties, that jazz.” 

You almost began to miss the days when he would visit you and your family in New York and go on for hours about the state of the stock market and abstruse mathematics. 

You are tempted to leave without him. The mix of sweat and smoke you are breathing in must be deleterious. You don’t have the heart to abandon your reckless family member, even if you are confident he is capable of managing on his own. After shuffling aimlessly, you find yourself in a room with couches. There is an empty seat next to a girl who bears some semblance to an actress, intently staring at a Playboy magazine. You sit next to her, lean back, and revel in a moment of relaxation before the girl turns to you. 

“What do you think of this picture?” she asks, showing you an image of a topless girl in the magazine. 

You shrug. “I’m indifferent.”

She looks surprised, almost offended, at your words. She tosses the magazine across the room and turns to you again.  “I’m thinking of taking up the ascetic life. I’m not going to eat for weeks. Just drink water and meditate.”

“Cool.” 

The girl sighs. You look away from her, then feel a painful jab in your arm. She punches you a few times before you turn to her. 

“What?” you ask.

“What?” she responds. “Is nothing important to you? Are you cheating on me?”

You stare at her and shake your head in refutation. Her pierced nose, thick eye makeup, neck tattoo. You think of how insane the entire situation is. You stand and walk out of the room, lastly hearing the girl say that she wants you to bring her sushi. 

You find a cooler out in the relatively empty hallway. No matter where you are in this godforsaken place, there is a beverage supply. You sit on the floor and open a beer. You spit it out as soon as the liquid touches your tongue, but you try again. Your misery deserves a companion. You think of how far you must have fallen to end up here. Granted, this was not your idea, but you were painfully available and so full of ennui that you could think of no better way to spend a Friday night.  You had no job to use as an excuse, no spouse or significant other to be with, no friends to call up. Your only option was a warehouse part at 3 - now 4 - AM with a girl hanging from the ceiling. You contemplate hanging yourself from the ceiling. 

You lost your journalism job last month due to an incident involving a rumor and a misprinted article . You claimed ignorance and penitence, but it was strike three, the last stop on your downward spiral. Since then, your dull, routine life lost the routine. It is easy to fill the void with work, even meaningless work. Your work was something to get up for. It gave you something to complain about and provided a reason for your otherwise unwarranted depression. 

You fall asleep there on the floor. You dream of nothing. It feels as though you have only slept for a minute when you are woken up and pulled to your feet. You are so tired that you don’t even respond, only follow the person guiding you. Stepping out into the frigid air, you come to your senses. You see Zachary and trail him to your car. He comments on what a wild night it was and hopes that you didn’t sleep it all away. He says that you need to start doing more, start enjoying life. You look out the window, watching the sun climb in the sky.