rich kids of paris

Yann and Cecily, on cyborgs.

Yann: While I was in Tokyo, I followed a trail that led me to robotics expert Professor Nakamura. We had a brief talk about subversive experiments led by a group of hardcore Terminator fans. He was shot by an assassin before I could get more answers.

Cecily: Are you a writer, friend?

Yann: Somehow, there is actually not much “official-ness” according to society’s standards when it comes to my ”writing skills”. In essence, I don’t have a job. Now I’m wondering whether that was the coolest or lamest way to announce the unemployment situation. 

Cecily: If you’re happy being unemployed and seeking out Japanese professors skilled in Terminator-style life discovery, then there is no uncool way to announce it.

Two friends, on narrative.

Cecily: I go through silly extremes. Last year, I worked myself to the bone physically and emotionally. Then, I was a voracious shopper, in glittering boots and Serbian rabbit furs. Then I became a restless housewife, befriended by laundry and experimental stews. The continuum of my life is so fractured, and my dominant personality traits shift so frequently. This is one of the reasons I crave marriage. It seems like necessary connective tissue in the narrative of my life. Thing is, I’m not sure if real life is supposed to have a narrative arc.

Xavier: It’s not. And if we treat ourselves like we’re fictional characters, then it will rarely be with any sort of actual justice or understanding. It will be a series of grand sweeping gestural things, and unrealistic narrativising. Leave that to other people to do about you.

Cecily: But narrative smoothness in life might help. Might help me keep a tabs on how I’m doing as a human. I feel kind of like a fish. A fish with nowhere to go, in a really fancy hat.

Cecily, on education.

Cecily: I have had a good education in cheese, wine, polo, and skiing. Although I still cannot ski. It didn’t help that I started my education on terrifying Swiss slopes that tiny Swiss kids were navigating like Russian ballerinas. And there was my Calvin Klein coat (not made for skiing) weighing me down and heavy around my ankles. I wanted glüwein and a chalet that day, more than I have ever wanted those things in my life.

Xavier: Polo is beyond me, but I do like cross country croquet; the style those Algonquin guys played in the 1920s.

Sisters, on dressing.

Delilah: Tell me, are you dressed entirely as Zelda Fitzgerald?

Cecily: How does Zelda Fitzgerald dress?

Delilah: With regard.

Cecily: I am in bed. So I am not dressing with regard.

Delilah: Perfect. Not dressing, with regard. You should know, it’s dangerous leaving punctuation to your adversary.

Sisters, on celebrity.

Cecily: You’re building quite a fan base.

Delilah: Excellent. Wait. What? Amongst who? Satanists?

Cecily: Everyone. Your darkness is a lovely foil to Cecily’s sparkling naïveté.

Delilah: Wonderful. But how do you know?

Cecily: People write me and tell me.

Delilah: Interesting. I guess without this face, the darkness becomes a lot easier to accept. How are they regarding Alexander?

Cecily: They’re either Team Cecily or Team Alexander.

Delilah: I never expected your writing to get ‘teamed’.

Cecily: I am polarizing.

Delilah: Yes. But I assumed fans of your prose would deride any hint of group identification.