Fifteen Things About DJ: A Biography
His new girlfriend, Chelsea, has knitted him a set of three gloves. She has also made for him a hood with cat ears. The gloves are pink and the hood is purple.
The hood is not connected to anything.
His handwriting is fine and neat; however the sheer fineness of it makes it difficult to read.
In class he fills pages writing continuous paragraphs of his professors' words. He does not break paragraphs between classes, and he does not separate, say, Contemporary American Literature from, say, Introduction to Chaucer or, say, Theater and Theatricality.
His papers are typed in point ten font, despite the pleas of his baffled teaching assistants. The papers, littered with footnotes, extend to fifteen, eighteen, twenty-five pages past the assigned maximum.
He never listens in class.
The eponymous hero on watching two squirrels make love by the side of a path:
"In the animal world, all sex is rape."
The look on his face when you tell him you're reading Derrida.
He has every Prince album, including the new one. His favorite song is "Prince Alone in the Studio" by Smog.
He has every Pavement album, every Xiu Xiu album, every album by the Silver Jews.
His computer is littered with music and with photographs from bizarre websites. He stays awake for days at a time, visiting news websites, trolling for stories about protestors mangled beneath foreign tanks, children falling from skyscrapers, bizarre sexual practices. Then he emails his friends with the results.
He loves those stories.
His most recent band is called the Bi-Polar Bears. Their two best songs are called "You've Got Some Bible Stuck in Your Teeth" and "Jean-Luc Godard Eats Baby Heads."
He and a friend are the geniuses behind Osama Van Halen and O.B. Gyn Kenobi. Those were supposed to be online screen-names but the internet supplier, in an unprecedented move, rejected them on principle.
In Contemporary American Literature he plays hangman.
In Theater and Theatricality he draws Viking helmets.
In Introduction to Chaucer he diagrams every possible method for committing suicide. Chief among these is: "digging a pit fifty feet deep, with me at the bottom, filling the pit with orange chicken and banana Snapple, and I have to eat my way out, only that's impossible, so I'll just drown." The diagram features a stick-figure representation of him, its face turned up in anticipation of the already-descending deluge of food.
On why Vikings will always win in a fight-to-the-death with Pirates:
"Pirates are all about money. Vikings just do it for the love of killing. Pirates are total pansies."
The year-old banana Snapple in the cup holder of my car was purchased with him in mind. But if we give it to him now, he'll still actually drink it. That's why it's still in the car.
What about Zombie Pirates?
The third glove is so they can hold hands in winter.
On living in a leftist forest-mountain-seaside community:
"Every time a girl is raped, an angel gets his wings."
"No no no," he said. "You don't need to read Lacan. Just read Zizek."
His second favorite movie is Kairo. His paper on Lacanian systems of identification in Pulse is the number one entry in any internet search for Kurosawa Kiyoshi.
His favorite movie is Purple Rain.
Fifteen things about DJ.
There was something else. Two days ago he said something hilarious about hanging yourself, but I've already forgotten it. The walls of his bedroom, which he never leaves, are painted dark purple.
He has taken over twelve hundred pictures of me on his digital camera, all in the space of about five non-consecutive days. He has taken over six hundred pictures of my fiancée. Three hundred each of Kristi and Scott, one hundred of Carra who he doesn't really know. Two thousand of his various cats.
He doesn't sleep, ever. When he does sleep it is randomly, deeply, and for a day at a time. I thought he was dead, once, when he wouldn't answer his door. He was only sleeping.
The rape jokes are actually quite funny, in context. Especially considering the other people who go to his university. And considering that DJ is the kindest, gentlest, smartest person I have ever met. We stood for fifteen minutes staring at these posters, pictures of real Santa Cruz couples, with headings like, "We don't allow violence into our relationship." I said, "Some people really like violence, though." DJ said something about angels and wings.
The hanging-yourself joke was funny in any context.
He has read every book ever written. If you mention that, he just shrugs. His favorite philosopher is E.M. Cioran. When you read Cioran, you get the awkward sensation that DJ has been ripped off. If you mention that, he just shrugs.
He once called a classmate Fucktard to his face during a class discussion. The guy was asking for it.
He always called the hangman class Contempt for American Literature, and he was right.
Fifteen things about DJ. Forty-three things about DJ. Eight hundred twenty things, sixteen thousand things, ninety million things about DJ.