This is going to be a very un-literary, all over the place post - just the way you like it (I hope). Strap in for a frenetic, automatic, overly sentimental report on my little weekend.
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The way you describe me describing liking Edmonton makes me sound like the worst guy ever. I know you’re just kidding, but there’s truth to every bit, as we used to say. Remember that one greentext that makes fun of townies? That doesn’t narrow it down at fucking all, but the one I’m thinking about has a bunch of shit about these half-pub, half-arcade places for “adults” who are particularly excited to binge drink $10 IPAs and then go home to their cats, as they are cat parents. Obviously there’s some points about vascetomies. Whatever. You know what I’m talking about. Maybe I sound like that guy. I definitely kind of do. But - actually, NO. I do not. Well, I mean, I’m not that far off. But I’d like to think I’m more populist than that.
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Jeff’s Goodbye Forever Party was unexpectedly profound for me. It wasn’t the kind of thing where much of the mind-blowing action was taking place outside of my own head, despite there being a relatively big turnout. It was really just me really taking a look at what has been in front of me the whole time with Jeff. He’s leaving for Korea for three days as I write this in the Law Faculty lounge at the University of Alberta - September 19th. He’s a guy I’d consider a good friend, but one I barely know. I don’t know the names of his parents. I don’t know his birthday. I don’t know where he was born. I have no idea if he has any siblings. I didn’t know that his real name isn’t actually Jeff until a year into know him. But, thinking long and hard about him leaving Edmonton for good this week, I didn’t really feel the extent of the fact he has had as big an influence on me as people like E—, R—, Na—-, or you.
I met him totally by chance in the backyard of the venue, and he later had his going away party. It's funny how that goes. It was the middle of the summer, barely weeks after my break-up with Joey. Natalie, months before I moved to Edmonton, and months before we knew anybody there, invited me out to this Khotin show. I remember it being a work night, and I remember that the logistics of the trip up from Red Deer being stupidly tight, not only because I had work the next day, but because the day after that, I had to go down to Lake Louise with my parents to see my cousins and other soon-to-be-significant family bullshit. Another thing: I lied to my parents about why I was driving up there. I told them I was seeing Julian, who would later become horribly significant to my friendship with Natalie, because I thought that me driving two hours to see this vague female friend of mine would arouse suspicions, which was probably not the worst call. I remember being stupidly anxious about the entire thing given the stakes I just listed. Like, piping-hot anxious. Literally shaking in my car, listening to Jay Reatard or something. Thinking the front axel of my car was going to randomly give out while I was driving through Leduc (1).
There’s an earlier Wattpad where I talk about this night that I might have never posted because I can’t seem to find it. The Khotin show was at this natural wine party, which a year ago seemed absolutely foreign and obnoxious to me, and I still think they’re very obnoxious, but they are no longer foreign to me. I can now regrettably say I’ve been to something like three in my life. They all make me feel like a straight edge teenager again. Anyway, everyone at said natural wine party in the backyard of the venue in the scariest part of Edmonton I would later come to vaguely know, but I didn’t know then, and despite my anxiety, my goal was to meet them. It was also Jeff’s, who had an actual project to support it. I didn’t know that at the time.
N—-- and I sat this one picnic table in the backyard, which I referred to as the “Kids’ Table” to any coked out hipster that stumbled to talk to us. The most sober of hipsters that approached us was Jeff, who immediately told us about Edmund Tunes (I’m trying to obscure the actual name because I don’t want anyone Googling the club and finding this). I don’t want to report exactly what happened between us and him just yet. I think one day I’ll do a proper essay about that. What I want to say is this: Jeff is from Seoul, and he grew up feeling isolated there. He has never explained why to me beyond Korean culture being “hypermasculine”. He transferred from a university in Seoul, which - on the last drive I ever went with him - had the student club that inspired him to start Edmund Tunes in Edmonton. It apparently worked the same as it does here. Same kind of kids. Same set-up. I don’t know how many people in our circle know that. I assume the other executives of the club know. But, regardless, the thought that other kids like us exist out there like that, and that we’ll never meet or know each other’s names makes me feel something I don’t know how to describe. Somewhere out there, literally across the sea, there are people like us. It makes me think of how, when I was a kid, I would look out at the Pacific Ocean and think about what people in Japan were doing. I would always do this in the late afternoon on vacation and think almost always of families coming home from work and school. If I ever have the chance, I would love to contact the Seoul version of Edmund Tunes. Ryan, one of the other executives, said to Jeff in the parking lot after his party that he would love to visit him if he ever was in Seoul. Jeff said something like “You can stay in at my parents’ place. I’m serious. Just DM me.” Maybe one day.
