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Where are we now? She keeps dragging me behind her, and everybody else is way ahead of us, all still following the tour guide. Whizzing through the crowd, too many people around here. Inefficient. I’m feeling cold, no, scratch that I’m more than cold, my flippin’ balls are trying to climb higher from their dangling positions to crawl up inside of me and get warm. Wind’s blowing about thirty miles per hour, or whatever the technical term is for calculating such a thing. Crowd’s getting to me, but I’m trying hard, and hopefully this will not last that much longer than it has already. An excruciatingly cold day outdoors in a weird, stupid town/city/whatever it is that is a loose connection of buildings all containing different forms of art. ‘Art That Cannot Be Explained or Defined’ was the claim on the brochure. More like abstractedness for the sake of abstractedness. Lin Z wanted to come see this place though, so here I am and she’s still pulling me forward, eyes twinkling at me. Can’t be good when she does that. It means she sees something I just HAVE to look at.

What is it? I can’t even tell. She pulls me up to the front of the line, and I jostle some old crinkled up man who’s now glaring at me. I apologize with a helpless shrug, and stare, no, GAZE at this foreign object that everyone else seems to be GAZING at. What are they seeing? I see…

I see a digital High Definition television playing random patterns over and over. One minutes it’s taking the form of a young attractive lady next it’s a bear, a polar bear with blood red eyes, completely colored in. The crowd’s gasping or murmuring in reverence. Actual reverence, like it’s a god or some alien technology they’ve never seen before. “Isn’t it great?” Lin Z’s grinning at me, like a little girl again, way way back like when we were just kids in ninth grade so long ago. Her hair was longer back then; reached her shoulders, all bright blonde and whatnot. Earlobes pierced with six rings each, or at the very least four. I can never really tell because she’s always talking about adding a new piercing. Has one on her bellybutton, her nose, it’s kinda weird but it turns me on, and because I’m that kind of a moron that knows that he’s not gonna get a rich hottie someday off the streets, I got what I could.

“Stan?” She’s repeating my name over and over again and now I know I’m slipping out of reality and going back into my skull; the one place nobody can follow me. A great hideout when one is confused or bored. At this moment it’s the latter, and now I’ve gotta cover my butt.

“It’s cool.” Never let anyone tell you that lying doesn’t have its benefits. It provides a stalling service that temporarily will get you off the hook. In this case it works so I’ll take it.

We move on to the next room, lost the tour already we’re not getting it back. Works for me, as that the tour guide was starting to grind on my nerves as it is. “What do you think of this?” Lin Z’s pointing out a newer work, one that requires six television sets this time instead of one. Hooked up to those are several pairs of speakers, and a lot of gizmotronics and electric wires and crap, forming some kind of weird, DNA-spiral-lookalike thing. A classical song with randomasitgets snare drum breakdowns, almost a drum n bass kind of combo. Coupla kids are lounging around this particular piece as the screens of the televisions are flashing, then suddenly shifting into different kinds of patterns with vibrant colors. If you build it the seizures will come.

But these kids are banging their heads to it slow, despite the fast pace drums hitting the speakers and the thumping bass. It’s a wonder that the security isn’t required to turn it down or something. Like the crowd it’s too much. Too much noise, too many people here. All of it taking up my SPACE. I gotta have a least a foot between people, maybe two or three is better. How else can one survive this kind of jam? Everyone in here is drooling and giggling. I don’t get it. Look to my left another piece hanging on the wall is a picture of a young beautiful lady sketched out perfectly in stencil kissing a…cat. She is definitely kissing a cat, and it doesn’t look pretty at all. And still I don’t get it. Doesn’t anybody else see what I’m seeing? What’s the matter with these people?

“What’s your problem?” Lin Z’s pulled me to the side, away from the crowds surging through, most of them older or sophisticated looking people. I’m not old or sophisticated. I dropped out of Aiden Tech University, failed student and human being in general. The city’s been kind enough to tolerate my filthy person, but no doubt these people are staring at me, much the way my girl is staring at me now, with disapproving looks, with pursed lips, wondering what in the world this kid’s doing in here. Tatted little rat, got more ink than skin, good grief, Sharon, look at his face! Even his face has been tattooed! What kind of world are we living in where our kids are subjecting themselves to this kind of horror?

A fair question. One I’m always asking. One I’m still trying to pursue an answer to. Or maybe I already have it here in front of me: this girl, Lin Z Myers, a sweet kid I met back in the days of high school. Somehow she’s always initially struck me as a polar opposite. She’s a friendly hyperactive hamster kind of kid; I’m the guy who posts up in the corner of a bar and has his drink in quiet. Not much of a dancer or singer or rocker. I observe. I’m a watcher by trade. Dad had it bad and I’m just taking up the family business. Also picked up his dislike for crowds and space. A constant worry, a fear about lack of space, and how eventually the world WILL overpopulate whether we like it or not and there will be no more space to have. Like being buried in a coffin alive. Dirt everywhere and you can’t breathe.

A reason to not be HERE at this museum thingy then. Lin Z doesn’t see this though; she’s always been into artsy stuff that I couldn’t figure out for the life of me. But the girl’s the best thing to happen to me and I can’t deny it. Around here there is space; around her I can breathe. But not in here.

“I’m havin’ a hard time right now, okay?” I’m not trying to snap, but it’s getting to me. They’re everywhere, and anyway, she should KNOW not to bring me around to a place like this. I don’t fit in. I’m scum. To these people I’m the crusty remnants of a bad dinner that God needs to use his magic to wash away for good down the drain.

“What,” She blinks once, those blue eyes, and I mean HARD light blue eyes are staring at me like a puppy looking up at its new master. I LOVE YOU is what they’re screaming. I can see it. “Is everything okay? Do you need so sit down?” She starts to pull me towards a nearby bench.

“No, no-” I can’t let her do that after all. I see more than just love in those eyes, man. It’s a big day after all. She’s nineteen now. I can’t remember my nineteenth; I was far too drunk to remember anything or even take notes to leave for the morning. This day only comes once. And here I am, acting like a fool. The crowds rush by, and I’m almost nauseous at the thought of having to push through again, but this ain’t about me, I have to remind myself. She’s standing right next to me, this little kid, only four-nine, nicer than any female I’ve ever known at any point in my life, glides better than an angel, dances better than any Jesus-imitating hippie I’ve seen on the streets screaming down the govt. for the sake of peace.

And it is a messed up world we live in. Bombs going off every day in every corner of the world. Commies running over twelve countries in a row is also pretty intense. Now they’re looking our way, fresh meat to them. Not much time left for America to do her thing. Not much time for this girl to have fun, and actually be happy instead of having to be dragged down by a douchebag like me.

I trail her as we make it to the indoor underground bunker where apparently there is a small performance done every day at night by a local musician. We press inside and are immediately jostled as everybody’s getting in place. There are tables for old folks to sit at and have a drink. A small food café is attached in a smaller room to the side of the bunker, on the other side, where we can’t get to it because of the throng, thicker than the walls, and all of them talking laughing cursing muttering scorn glaring or grinning or kissing or even touching, and they’re all sweating and I know I’ll be sweating soon because it’s very very hot in this basement and I can’t help but wonder what have I done, what have I done, what have I done…

Lin Z presses up close to me and even as the lights dim in the room, those eyes glitter. A guy walks up to the center of the room, and stands on the incredibly small pedestal with lots of boxes and gizmos and technoid crap I’ll never ever be able to figure out for myself. He says nothing. A bald dude with sunglasses on for some reason, even though the lights are dimming and are starting to turn bluish in color, blue like my girl’s eyes. He starts twiddling with the knobs, and at first, it’s nothing but quiet as a few people start coughing and muttering. But then I hear it; a faint droning whiiirrrrrrr that rises up in sound…

A deep thump. The bass is kicking in, but it’s not heavy or malicious, or even predacious. It’s simple and relaxed, and the music is unfolding. Ambient in quality, very light and orchestral-like. The beat – snares kicking on but nothing like that crappy six-piece television set stuff – is slow as well but starting to get some people bobbing along. The older folk are wincing or rolling their eyes but the younger kids are loving it, some grooving hard.

Now I feel her again, she’s grooving too. I glance down, leaning forward so I can see her face and her eyes are close, those thing little lips tightened in concentration as she’s moving side to side, entranced. People all around us are starting to join her and are pushing or grooving all over the place and I’m getting lightly bumped. My stomach’s churning, and my mind is cringing, but suddenly, I get it. Like a switch flipped on that I didn’t see, or something whacks me alongside of the head.

The crowd ceases to exist in this moment as I’m here, and for the first time I’m actually seeing it. Seeing it all through her. As she’s pressing into me, I wrap my arms around her and those little lips curve upwards, and I know she’s thinking about me with her eyes closed now. The crowd’s like a cluster of yellow jackets swinging all around me, but I can’t hear the buzz anymore. I follow my girl’s moves and shut my eyes, and I see even better now. This is it. The world she lives in is more than space. It goes beyond that; it’s layer and layers of space, folded on top of each other, and every little piece is a new joy or moment that is there for good in the back of your head once it’s said and done. Memories crowded together like we are now, baby; and for once, I have to admit, it’s not as scary as it seems through dad’s eyes. It’s not some fear that I carry deep in my heart and stomach.

For once, everything is fine, and here I am safe. I fold myself into her and let go.