AN EXCERPT FROM "FASHIONABLY ILL" A MEMOIR BY KAYVON EDSON
When my father was on his deathbed, he sorta let my brother have his car. I find that only semi-true though, as the cancer didn’t let him speak through as there was a hole in his neck. I got his cell phone since my previous 2014-ish model cellar device was detonated by a bomb squad.
I walk a lot in Boston, since the “T” isn’t fun and my fifth or sixth Vespa was stolen. I can’t afford a car because I can’t even pay insurance. I have no money except my father’s crumbs and a small check from the government that says I’m so low functioning in the real world that I shouldn't work.
It’s better that way. Edson Family TRUST me.
Upon my second attempt at undergraduate art school freshman foundation year at Parsons school of Design, I went to jail because my parents got mad that I threw an unofficial high school reunion at their house … during what would have been before my junior year of college, if I were sane. If you were at the America Party in the summer of 2008, you remember the America Party—unless you drank too much. It was that iconic party where I jumped off the roof, welcomed my dearest pal back to the states after her time abroad, people were reunited from years before, and destructive homophobic tendancies of North Shore suburban townies led to destruction.
Wicked cool, right? I know, I know—not a great idea to fake mania by reciting Shakespeare, nor was it wise to bark at the police dog when getting escorted out, but that led to the ever-welcoming door to jail to open for this desperate soul.
Don’t believe me? Or, do you just think that I’m crazy? Make note: this is a non-fictional work. The only crumbs of fiction lay in my mind’s eye through a lens of my psychosis.
“Can't make this shit up,” my sister would often say as I (sometimes manic and nakedly) would chant “Old Gener-a-tion!” Like an old radio announcer or vaudeville actor when frustrated with contemporary life not aligning with my lifestyle. Catch up, people. Like, get on my level.
Also, I did this video and photoshoot parody of Grey Gardens I call “Gay Gardens.”. My friend Jackie went viral, somehow, on Facebook so I am semi-responsible for the destruction of a mansion that was foreclosed on and torn down due to decay instead of its preservation or restoration. … Sorry! Wakefield had a town meeting about whether to preserve the mansion after, I suspect, increased trespassing onto the former site of the Charles Winship House. If I read The Wakefield Daily Item, I may have known about that important meeting, but I don’t—nor do I believe the small town paper of that Boston suburb would deliver it to my Disco Factory in Brighton, Massachusetts.
I've been loving architecture lately. Fashion, though? That’s easy. Apparel art—what I do, and fashion design are two totally different things, is kinda hard because the designers always take the concepts … from the poor and to the luxe!
I want to interject here. I am the most creative person I know. I don't have to say that three times. …
Who are you wearing to this theoretical red carpet? I made my jacket. I love making the two Js—jackets and jumpsuits. … Hmm?
You’ll see.
It’s a puzzle. Life is a puzzle. Like the kind they give to psych patients to pass the time. …