October 11, 2010
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Subway reader, 2010, by Amanda Stern.
Also: Jersey Shore. I know, I know — it's a minstrel show, it's offensive, and it glorifies steroids and violence.
But this was my young adulthood.
These were my friends, this is what we did: we pre-gamed before going out to clubs to dance half naked on bars; we drank ourselves sick and shouted at people; then we drunkenly hooked up with each other at 4 in the morning when all other prospects had failed.
And in between the fights, and the bullshit, and the couple who can't stay together or break up, and the one guy whose pickup tactics border on sketchy, and the cliques within the cliques, we had fun, often by singing stupid songs to make each other laugh.
As Paulie D says, at every opportunity, for no reason, at top volume, "Oh yeah!"
I'm not saying these Jersey Shore people should be rich or rewarded because they behave like obnoxious, drug-addled idiots. GOD FORBID someone had followed us around with cameras at that age; thank the lord there was no internet back then; we would have been even more criminally self-involved than we were. I agree with those who say that none of these people should be famous, nor should I have an opinion on the upcoming season of The Bachelor (that Brad guy again? bullshit…). However, it suits me fine that this show is on the air, because it's like watching myself at the age of nineteen, when I was, if I do say so myself, somewhat of a J-WOWW. As in WOWW, you should really wear more than that when you leave the house. WOWW, you probably shouldn't mix ecstasy and acid if you ever want to have a coherent thought again.
PICS OR IT DIDN'T HAPPEN:
There's something to the adage that ignorance is bliss. Or not ignorance, but a special kind of not-understanding that leads to a groping about the world with only feelings, no concepts or words, and not even emotional feelings so much as physical ones, sensations and pre-verbal desires. This was the world to get lost in, this world that sounded like drums in your ears that was really your pulse, the feeling of being pulled forward by the front of your pants, irresistible, how the cigarette smoke spoke to you in sines and cosines, explaining determinism on the couch of your friend's mom's apartment and this is the most comfortable couch I ever…
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I was going to finish reading this, but then suddenly CABS ARE HEAYGHH!
1. Are you wearing a sports bra?
2 Is that Melissa Roth?
Yes it is. And boy does this pic bring the (fractured) memories flooding back.
I think if we’re lucky, we still do get those moments..those moments of groping at the world with only feelings…and then some practical reality slaps us in the face and brings us back into our overprocessed overthinking ways.
Thanks for sharing, JWOWW.
There was this artist once, decades ago, with whom I got very, very drunk at a club called Tracks. Outside, in his car, in the middle of sliding into fourth, I suddenly leapt out of the passenger-side door retching all over the ground. Heaving and spewing drink after dirty drink for what seemed an eternity. I remember thinking, “Wow, I am really losing it here. I’ve finally crossed the line. I keep feeling blinded by white light. I think I may be actually dying!”
… then I realized… the ar-tiste was kneeling on the ground in front of me snapping close-ups of me throwing up. The blinding flashing lights came from the flash on his camera.
I heard later than he intended the pictures to be part of some gallery show. I don’t know if they ever were, or if I was recognizable, or if they’ll ever pop up in my future, and I don’t care because, honestly, it’s who I was then.
Fuuuuuucking hell, I’ve just stumbled across this site and I’m amazed I’ve never heard of you before. Your last paragraph here so perfectly sums up my hazy recollection of ‘youth’ (not that it’s over, hopefully!)
I’ve currently got less than £20 in the bank, but I think I’ll have to buy one of your books soon. Real headfuck.
C