Home > Be Dazzled(4)

Be Dazzled(4)
Author: Ryan La Sala

   I’ve clung to that hurt for a long time. It’s what has kept me going; it’s what got me here. But when I see him, the hurt abandons me, leaving behind an overwhelming, disorienting nostalgia. When I see him, I see us. How we came together, what we created together, what we ruined together. I see our every moment, and at the same time, I see us unraveling all at once. It’s gutting. And the only way to understand how we fell apart is to understand what made us us in the first place.

 

 

Two


   Then

   Thirteen months earlier

   My filming setup is in the studio.

   The studio is a converted garage behind our house that Evie sometimes traps artists inside when they’re on deadline for a show. It’s not in use right now, which means I’m living here. Yes, I have an actual room in the house, but the studio has everything I need: a loft space with a mattress on the bare wooden floor, a collapsing sofa, a kitchenette, and a bathroom. And of course, a fully equipped, climate-controlled, spectacularly lit artist space with more leftover supplies than a kindergarten class could use in a year.

   Evie doesn’t care that I live out here for months at a time. I don’t think she really notices. She probably likes the quiet for the few nights a month that she’s actually home. I think she knows, vaguely, that I’m making cosplays out here, but so long as I keep my dirty little hobby a secret from her, she keeps her temper in check. So I’m careful to clean up and to never mention this stuff around her or her art friends.

   But, because I guess I love danger and irony, I also set up a camera and record myself crafting for the entire internet to see, twice a week. What can I say? Some kids do drugs. Some kids start fires. I embroider in the dead of night, for the attention of strangers.

   I use Ion for streaming. Everyone uses Ion for streaming. It’s sort of like this massive digital forum full of people talking into their cameras as they do their weird hobbies. But are they still weird if thousands of people watch and comment and subscribe? Not so much.

   Some people eat and review takeout. Some people give personal updates while they polish silverware. Some people stream their latest virtual conquests in whatever games they’re playing. Some people watch scary movies with their jumpiest aunts.

   On my channel, I create stuff.

   Or rather, I create cosplays and narrate what I’m doing. And then I open up the stream to Q&As at the end. I’m not a huge deal, but I’ve got a few thousand subscribers and tons of return views from other cosplayers looking for tutorials. Mostly people lurk on my channel, keeping their comments to themselves. It’s hard to tell if people care, since users come and go and screen names change. Still, it’s comforting to spend time with these random strangers. It makes the long hours of crafting feel not so lonely. And on the plus side, if my mother ever discovers what I’m up to, my most loyal watchers will have a live viewing of me being incinerated by her laser eyes. What could be more special than sharing that?

   I adjust my camera, then turn it on. I give myself a moment before starting the stream.

   “Hello! And welcome back to my channel, Crafty Rafty, the home of all things arts, crafts, and creation. I’m Raffy, and as per usual, I’ll be talking through my latest costume creation, answering questions, and reviewing supplies.”

   I spin through my usual intro. I have rehearsed it many times in front of the tiles in my shower, which give limited feedback. Porcelain, as a material, is very hard to impress.

   “Today, we’re picking up where we left off with my latest build: Plasma Siren. I’m planning on wearing her to Controverse this year, and if all goes well, I might even be competing next year. So, what do you think? Is all going well?”

   I hold up the garment so far. One day, it will be an incredible cosplay of my favorite, favorite mini boss from last year’s indie breakout game, Wake, which is about haunted islands in the Bermuda Triangle. Right now, it’s just a mottled mess of fabric, but today I’m applying scales and rhinestone fin detailing. This is actually something I should do after I’ve sewn the rest of the bodysuit together, but I’m too excited to wait.

   “So, a huge shout-out to one of you. I have no idea who, but one of you must have really been listening during my last stream, because today I arrived home to a package from an unknown sender. And what did I find in it? The exact rhinestones I needed to bedazzle Plasma Siren’s fins.”

   I pause, more to keep myself from laughing than anything else. Someone—a total stranger—bought me craft supplies off my wish list. It’s a looooong list I keep updated on Amazon with the supplies I’m working with, and theoretically people can buy me stuff from it and ship the packages to my house without them having to know where I live. It’s like a wedding registry, but for a single person, and that single person is single because of their ridiculously demanding preoccupation with arts and crafts. And I say theoretically because until now, no one has ever thrown money down for my cause. But, with these rhinestones as my witnesses, someone believes in me! Which means it’s finally happening. My star! It’s rising! I’m practically already the executive producer of my own Netflix show.

   “So whoever sent these, thank you.”

   There is much more I want to say, but I need to act cooler than I feel.

   “Anyway, there are many ways to stone things. Plasma Siren’s fins aren’t your typical surface. They’re plastic, and even though they are opaque, you can see that the surface is super smooth. That’s not great for glue. So before we get to gluing, we’re going to need to give the glue something to grip.”

   As I talk, I pick a patch of sandpaper.

   “I’m sanding the plastic in small circles, carving out tiny scratches that the glue is going to fill. This gives it some tooth. That said, make sure you wash off the plastic after doing this to get rid of the dust. I also suggest swabbing the plastic with alcohol to clean off any residuals.”

   I pick up the fins I’ve already sanded. I hold them up to the camera, letting the light show the newly textured surface.

   “Now that our plastic is treated, we can get to gluing. For gluing to hard surfaces, I recommend an industrial-strength adhesive, like this E6000. But because I need to mask the seam between the stiff material of the fin and the fabric it protrudes from, I’m also going to use some foam clay to smooth out the gap, and then this liquid cement, which comes in a fabric formula.” I hold up both. “Whatever you use, always make sure that it’s going to dry clear. You don’t want a bunch of dry white stuff all over your beautiful jewels.”

   I hear myself and cringe.

   “Sorry, Mom,” I say to the camera, playing it off. Evie is, of course, not watching. She is backpacking in São Paulo with one of her artists, a man who only produces one painting per year, applying the paint directly over his last painting. She’s got him booked at a gallery in SoHo in a few months, where he’ll complete his next layer.

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