Reading Less than Zero is an odd experience. I just watched
the documentary Bridegroom earlier today (and cried like crazy) and it has this
view of Los Angeles and Hollywood and California as an epicenter of acceptance
where gay men and other outsiders can go and be accepted. They are places that
stand in opposition to the shallow and judgmental “wholesomeness” of Middle
America and instead celebrate difference.
In Less than Zero, though, Los Angeles is the epicenter of
shallowness where tolerance has run wild, nothing seems to be off limits, but
at the same time, everyone seems to feel comfortable judging one another for
his/her/their surface features.
In reality, it’s obviously a bit of both. What bothers me is
when people who live here adopt extremist views claiming that it’s almost
exclusively the latter, but that they are the one disillusioned observer who
watches it all from the corner of the party before partaking in the activities
because you know, why not when nothing matters? I feel like I know lots of
people who read literature like this and watch angsty movies like Lost and
Translation and then pretend like everything around them is more shallow and
grotesque than they are. The division between that self, that individual, and
the otherness of their city is bullshit. And the angst that’s produced by that
division is profoundly annoying to me. It reminds me of the “I’m not like other
girls. I hate drama.” attitude, but more classist. It’s like “I’m not like the
other rich kids, I have this never-ending internal pit of angst and bitter observation
that stands in contrast to their shallow focus on my lack of a tan.”
by Jacky Jack Snack Attack
Bonus video/song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3LLXx3o5PC8
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