10:29 PM
Colin and his girlfriend Alison arrive at the abandoned textile factory after wandering the industrial district for twenty minutes. They consult the invitation and compare addresses. It is decided that, though there’s no sign on the door, this must be where the art exhibition is being held.

10:32 PM
Colin thinks an exhibit titled “Gender in Motion” ought to have burlesque dancers or, at the very least, nude photographs. Neither are present. It’s just a bunch of wacky furniture and giant black party balloons. Colin tries to hide his disappointment and searches for a drink.

He and Alison run into Pape, Blake, and Kelly, three of Alison’s friends. Pape is in an electronic band; Blake makes silent films; and Kelly is only sometimes a woman.

Last year, at a party much like this one, Colin made the mistake of assuming Kelly was transgendered. Alison corrected him; she said that when Kelly wasn’t being a woman, she could be anything, really, like a light switch or a bag of pretzels. It was a statement on identity.

Tonight, she is a Garfield Laugh-a-Day Calendar, circa 1990. This makes Colin laugh.

10:50 PM
Colin, Alison, Pape, Blake, and Kelly stand around a piece titled Vulva. It’s a “representation of a womanhood crafted completely out of paper mached Maxim covers.” Or so says the informational plaque. Everyone in the group seems to hate it. Colin has no opinion. He’s thinking about Dead Rising for some reason.

It’s Blake, the filmmaker, who asks the dreaded question. “So, Colin, what do you do?” he says with a flip of his greasy black hair. Colin glances at Alison. They had rehearsed this routine in the car on the way over.

“What don’t I do!” he shouts. Alison tries to laugh. Everyone looks confused. Colin decides it’s time to move to Plan B. “But seriously, not that much. Just an office job.”

Pape chimes in. “I thought you were a creative director or some such?”

Colin fiddles with the buttons on his shirt. He hates this question. He can never come across as anything short of pathetic. It’s his disposition. He loves his job, he just doesn’t know how to make it sound like something a human being ought to do.

The group doubles in size. A few of Kelly’s transgender/transobject friends walk over from the other side of the room. Colin has the floor. All the freaks want to know what his deal is.

“I’m a junior creative director at Kraken Studios?” he says. He doesn’t know why it’s a question. He’s been the junior creative director for two years now.

“Oh, so you make films?” Kelly asks.

“Well, no. Actually. We’re a really small company. We’ve only shipped one game,” Colin says. There’s an awkward silence. “Video games. Not like Donkey Kong, or anything. Smart stuff. Like Braid. Or, uh…you know, Portal. We don’t have a budget like Valve, though. It’s just a skeleton crew of friends developing this shit. We work out of a basement. Not like our Mom’s basement. The basement of a commercial building.” Colin takes a deep breath. “It’s a real job.”

Alison breaks the silence. “This place have a bar?”

11:11 PM
Something that looks like a DJ is playing something that sounds kind of like music.

“Well, I’m currently in two experimental noise bands,” Pape shouts at Colin and Alison. They’ve found a corner quiet where it’s enough to talk between the fetus-pyramid and the Obama-gator. “I’m sure you’ve already heard of the Gaping Cunts. The second band is called…Damn. I can’t remember. It’s a lengthy quote by Thoreau about civil disobedience.”

Colin nods. He sips his rum and coke through a stir-straw. “Very cool. Do your bands have Myspace pages or…?”

Pape recoils. Alison clutches Colin’s arm. “What I think Colin means is, how do avoid the temptations to commercialize your music?”

Colin reluctantly nods. “That’s almost exactly what I meant!”

11:19 PM
Blake and Colin wait at the bar for their tattoo of a bartender to finish their drinks. “So, these video games you make are more like multimedia representational art?” Blake asks. “Sorry, representational multimedia art.”

“I guess, but that’s not really what I’m going for.”

Blake nods. “What are you going for?” he asks. He seems distracted by something going on on the other side of the room, or perhaps the other side of the moon.

The bartender hands Colin a Blue Ribbon. He cracks it open and sips it to buy some time. “Well,” he starts. “I guess it’s supposed to be fun.”

“Uh huh. Like a reconstruction of the idea of fun. I get it.”

Colin shakes his head. “More like a regular construction of fun.”

Blake takes a sip of his white wine and smiles politely.

1:56 AM

Alison searches all over the gallery for Colin. She finds him asleep in back of their Miata. His DS is open on his chest. She picks it up and looks at it. It’s running Scribblenauts. He tried to type “Pretentious Assholes”, but the game asked if he meant “pliers.”

As told to Hardcasual correspondent Filipe Salgado.