Moby

Moby is a small bald man who used to be famous for making beats but is famous now for being small and bald and because of an interview he did with the New York Times in which he talked about veganism and pancakes and not at all about making beats. He is also dating a friend of mine, or she says. Often the things my friend says are not entirely true but not untrue enough that they can be called lies. So although they may not be dating it is possible that they went on a date, or perhaps more than one. On the night my friend told me she was dating Moby the two of us were at a party for a well-known author in a house in Laurel Canyon. My friend was feeling cranky, she said, because Moby was meant to accompany her to the party but he had not returned any of her phone calls. She offered this information to me unbidden, and I left the party soon after. This morning I woke up clinging to a half-remembered dream in which I was my friend at a party at the author’s house with Moby and I don't yet understand if this means that I wish I were my friend or that my friend wishes she were me or that Moby wishes that he were my friend.