I tell her how funny it is we’re talking about all this because as it so happens I’m already working to change all this, am currently in the middle of putting together something that will address all these issues, that will inspire millions to greatness, that with some high school friends – Moodie and two others, Flagg and Marny – we’re putting something together that will smash all these misconceptions about us, how it’ll help us all to throw off the shackles of our supposed obligations, our fruitless career tracks, how we will force, at least urge, millions to live more exceptional lives, to {standing up for effect} do extraordinary things, travel the world, to help people and start things and end things and build things…
“And how will you do this?” she wants to know. “A political party? A march? A revolution? A coup?”
“A magazine.”
“Oh… right.”
“Yeah,” I say, looking out to the ocean, basking in its applause. “It’s going to be huge – we’ll have a big house somewhere, or a loft, and there’ll be an art gallery, and maybe a dorm-”
“Like the Factory!”
“Yeah, but without the drugs, the cross-dressers.”
“Right. A collective.”
“A movement.”
“An army.”