birthmarks / trademarks

the mash-up

tracy emin-"everyone i have ever slept with"

“when she was not actually talking to him now she found it hard to keep him distinct from everyone else, everyone with whom she had ever slept or almost slept or refused to sleep or wanted to sleep. it had seemed this past month as if they were all one, that her life had been a single sexual encounter, one dreamed fuck, no beginnings or endings, no point beyond itself.”

-joan didion, play it as it lays

picture two men driving north on western avenue, in chicago, illinois, one late summer morning. the driver, hispanic, appears to be in his late twenties. he wears a khaki shirt with a gray undershirt, dark jeans and brown boots. the passenger, hispanic as well, appears to be in his early thirties and wears a chambray shirt with a gray undershirt, dark jeans and brown boots. needless to say, the driver, call him j, put the outfit of the passenger, call him s, together. the shirt that s wears was a birthday gift from j. the birthday was merely the day before.

if you can somehow see this, please accessorize the scene with the song “someone like me” by röyksopp. if you can do this as well, move on to add precise details: handholding, sweet looks, kisses on red lights.

picture two men driving through the pacific coast highway in san francisco, california. it is mid spring, a monday, and the weather is foggy and rainy. the driver, a forty-something white male, wears a vintage tan leather jacket with a light blue sweater and jeans. the passenger, a hispanic male in his late twenties, wears a blue blazer with khaki slacks and a gray and white-checkered shirt. the driver, call him g, makes fun of the passenger, call him j, for wearing improper shoes for the impending rain. “it is the way i planned this outfit”, j replies with a small laugh, and then sings a verse of “someone like me” by röyksopp. strangely, it was being played in the radio. although you might be tempted to speculate that this j is the same one driving in chicago, a closer inspection would determine that although similar, they are not the same. they are related as identical twins, where one has a mole that the other one does not.

if you can imagine this, and are so inclined, add more details, such as g and j having lunch in the sand dollar restaurant and later kissing good-bye in the airport. and if you are really inclined, picture j smoking a cigarette before boarding the airplane, feeling that weird sensation in the mouth of his stomach that means he will miss g.

picture two men driving west on interstate 90 towards schaumburg, illinois. the passenger, a chicago south side irish guy, wears a tan jacket with an oxford shirt and jeans. k, as i shall refer to him, has a tendency of always being warm, which is often reflected by a thin layer of sweat in his forehead. the driver, j once again, wears a green military jacket with a gray shirt and tan corduroy pants. the mission of the day, buy two chairs. the first store was difficult to find, but k even purchases a chair that they are able to fit in j’s car. j is later upset because he lost a pencil he really liked in the second store. this j is more different than the first one, but somehow similar to the one in san francisco. so similar, in fact, they can only be told apart by experts, and it so happens that the only expert would be j himself.

if you can see this without much difficulty, then try to see k and j in j’s apartment. j makes spaghetti while k tries to assemble a chair. “someone like me” by röyksopp is playing. at some point see j looking at k, while k does not notice. j notices the thin layer of sweat, and thinks “it is like we are together”. and since you are so good at it already, imagine j riding the red line south from chicago and state after k told him that he did not have time to pursue anything, a couple of weeks later.

picture two men in an apartment in logan square, chicago, illinois. it is mid winter, say february, say saturday night, say around 8 pm. say because this scenario is older than all the previous ones. one man, hispanic, lies on the floor wearing flannel pants and a fair isle sweater. he appears to be in his early twenties. the other man, caucasian and in his early thirties, wears more or less the same outfit. the latter, refer to him as d, plays the violin to “someone like me” by röyksopp. the hispanic one, the one that lies down on the floor petting two dogs, cannot help but think “this is it, this is the rest of my life”. that man is j, but not really. he is a previous version of j that could not imagine driving to the suburbs, or a trip to san francisco, or buying furniture for a new apartment, much less fathom the idea of dating a hispanic man for the first time in years. this j is a man that should know better.

after seeing this, it might be difficult to see j breaking up with d the day before his birthday, a day j will remember for it’s stillness. but if you can understand this, maybe you will start putting some pieces together. pieces like an apartment in albany park that he felt he did not belong to, a dog that consistently barked at him and had recently tried to bite him, a long afternoon commute followed by the blaring noise of a huge tv and the disgusting smell of frozen pizza. j still looks at all of this and wonders what the hell happened.

if i were to say that the past collides with the present, that would most likely imply that the past moves while the present is static. the matter is made more complicated when one considers that all presents become past, and enter a dynamic state of flux, a place where men are confused, locations and times are often misquoted, emotions felt are easily exchanged for others that make more sense. could all the men in my life-the ones i have slept with, the ones i wanted to sleep with, the ones i refused to sleep with-be turning into a massive fuck? an orgy where all the elements are connected by a thread as inconsequential as a song that i really like, mostly because i poses the statement “someone like me, someone like you, how unlikely”.