Monday, April 23, 2007


As I was saying earlier "I am 25 years old, female, Harvard educated, Korean American. That's also a list of my allegiances in order of importance." This is not true. The second part. Or not entirely the truth, they are in order of importance to me as far as i can sort of understand what is normally the criteria for identity. The real je ne sais quoi of life that is brutally cut down to "A/S/L? [age sex location] on internet chat rooms (do those still exist? or are they soooo pre-millennial and/or middle-aged). I might describe myself as a
Smoking hot classy Asian babe with BIG tits and a great sense
of humor, into art. got pics will send. For sensual tete-a-tetes

call ( **redacted**)

(this is my personal ad for when I'm 56/F/NY/single in the back of Harvard magazine's Looking for Love/ Companionship/ Anything Please! section). It's an odd choice for me, since I never liked any of the twatty chaps there when I was actually matriculated. Minus two, one ex-boyfriend(the campus's emcee MC Absurd) and my current wonderful boyfriend Zach. Fortunately my twat experience was way better. These twats were nice and hopefully my lifelong friends. It's still a little early to say. They share few, if any, identity traits with me beyond their A/S/L --25/f/NY. They are smoking hot white chicks with small perky breasts a la model. They are into art and they are no dilettantes though they may be debutantes. More importantly, they have about four more inches on me sans heel. They would be upset for calling them twats (why dear friends? I mean it out of loving familiarity). That we went to Harvard is the least important thing to each of our precious sense of self; but the most important thing in what binds us together.

How else would I have come to know the daughter of one of America's most illustrious living painters? She is, by popular consensus, considered one of his "best" chef d'oeuvres-- the other being her older sister? Or the daughter of one of the wealthiest-least-maligned and unexpectedly-humble private equity men? They are beautiful, talented, and tan in that wonderful way only the WASPy or wealthy can get in St. Barth's in February (except they went in July—trĂ©s gauche). How would they become fast and best friends with a hardscrabble raver girl from queens (my freshman identity prop) without some enormous suspension of disbelief? There's something Harvard engenders in us all, a good faith in the greatness of anyone on campus you don't hate immediately. It's not guilt by association--it's sainthood by association. The secret they never let you non-Cantabs in on, is that the snobbishness doesn't really come out until after you've creeped out of the ivy gates and into this vulgar stupid world. It's as though the unchained man from Plato's Cave returned to the cave and was like "Fuck you guys. You're ugly and smell like horse shit. I'm going back to those picture-hurt-eyes-people and drinking a beer." And then upon finishing beer said "Fuck you're awful too. Get me some shades and a sombrero."