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TECHNOLOGY ISSUE EXTRA – INSIDE 55 W. 13TH, BY THE GLOW OF THE SCREEN

Our intern Emilie is suffering thesis week at Parsons, and it’s not like we care but apparently the other night she was in the computer lab until really late‚Ķ

Everyone wants to die because of this, but they all still manage to look nice (because it’s a huge fashion school) so I’ve been trying to forget I’m in fluorescent hell. Instead of focusing on how many pages I have left to write, I stare at what everyone’s wearing. I can see this getting ugly if I were a tech nerd--it’s late at night and I’m surrounded by Korean girls illuminated by the glow of a brand new Mac. After a six-hour binge in this place I start to get punchy, drawing pictures of everyone I see.

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Inside 55 W.13:

When I get to the lab I see two kids from my design development class begrudgingly working on a group project. Parsons is actually really easy and almost all of the work we have to do involves others. This is good because it brings up a lot of opportunities to do drugs, but bad because it rarely involves sex. All the guys at Parsons are gay, except for like five of them, who are weird. Julie is wearing a ton of gold chains and she has the ring everyone has from surface2air. Mike has been going to the gym all the time, and is sort of advertising his David Barton membership via cerulean and sweats. They both have blank expressions and I think they’re watching the

Beyonce can’t sing

video.

I situate myself next to another girl I know, whose thesis is far better then mine. I hope her genius vibes will float my way. She wears a short skirt with flowers and shoes from Zara, which I really like, but I’m sort of surprised because she came in with the latest Balenciaga all last semester. Her hair is shorter and choppier since I last saw her, but she compensates for looking like a boy by wearing girly clothes; it’s almost like she’s in drag.

Directly across from me is a casualty of the lab. She’s beginning to become one with the florescence, turning a blue-illuminated jaundice color. Her eyes look like they’re bleeding, which works well because it matches her blazer. I don’t know where it’s from, but

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it makes her shoulders really pointy

, which people who work at

W

care about.

I turn around to avoid looking at the poltergeist girl across from me, and see a girl who I don’t know in an oversize sweater, which matches her oversize bag. She’s very tiny so all these big things seem to engulf her. Her hat seems heavy and I fear for her neck. She starts talking on the phone about what to do for her birthday, and about some guy who thinks her friend is a player.

There’s always an intense line for the printer, but it’s so late there’s only one girl waiting to see what it shoots out. She’s wearing shiny black boots from Mink, tight jeans from Acne, and an untraceable plaid shirt. She has an expression of total indifference that sometimes couples with complete disgust. I start to imagine her life up to this point, which I know has involved letters written to men called Joaquin about the depth of her drug use and that she has vowed never to return to Marquee.

EMILIE BRANCH