This was a segment from my book proposal, but due to a restructuring it doesn’t fit any more. So I’m sharing it here.

I had a glimpse into the creation of popular culture, and I saw first hand the lack of reality in what we see and what we think we want. I got right into the thick of the wanting. And it made me want a little less.
Spring of 2001 I attended Gathering of the Tribes, which brought together underground rave organizers and community members from up and down the West Coast. I attended as the editor of Lotus Magazine, filling dual roles as reporter and community activist.

At the conference I met the founder of a harm reduction organization that was building a popular and successful national drug education network. The founder told me that he’d been in contact with some MTV-affiliated filmmakers who were making a documentary about Ecstasy. They were looking for a couple people to demonstrate the responsible, adult use of the drug.

“Would you be interested?” he’d asked me. I said that I was, in part because there was a cute friend involved. Cue the lights, I’ve got my hair gel applied and was ready for my close up.

A month or two later, MTV flew me to San Francisco to be a part of the filming of the documentary. By the time I arrived, the film crew had already been in town for a day, and the “plot” of the documentary was already well under way.

My cute friend and his polyamorous girlfriend assumed pseudonyms, and played the part of affluent San Francisco professionals who occasionally used Ecstasy. The truth, however, was that these two both worked for the harm reduction organization and did drugs whenever they pleased. Their non-profit wages don’t go very far in San Francisco, and apparently the film crew was unimpressed by my friends’ small Oakland apartment. Filming arrangements were made with a retired dot-com friend who had an expansive house in The City.

By the time I joined the documentary, my friend and his girlfriend were clearly under a lot of stress. They’d been filming all day and were starting to feel the weight of staying in character. The girlfriend stood, chopping vegetables and trying to pretend like the dotcom retiree’s kitchen was hers, even though she wasn’t sure which pots were in which cabinets. Not much off-the-cuff banter here: conversation was carefully thought-out, in an effort to convey Ecstasy use in the best, most responsible light.

I found the situation odd and uncomfortable. I had to remember to call my friend and his girlfriend by their pseudonyms, and interacting with them on screen felt about as natural an improv theater exercise. “YES, and! Ecstasy is also bla bla bla.”

The filmmakers had decided that it was more important for me to use my real name and job title for clout. Already unsure about the ramifications of on-screen intoxication, once the decision was made to use my real name, I realized that my role was going to be as the sober friend.

My big MTV debut, and I was the sober third wheel with blue dreadlocks. In New Kids terms, I was to be the Danny Wood of the show. The awkward one that no one remembers.

I stayed out of the way for most of the evening. It’s never that much fun to hang out with high people when you’re sober — even when your high friends aren’t mugging for the rolling cameras. I made a few brief appearances, including one where I sat cross-legged on the living room floor and talked about why I wasn’t doing Ecstasy.

“I’ve found that using Ecstasy too often gives diminishing emotional returns,” I lectured. “The more often you do it, the less often you get much out of it. Therefore, [pause to look around earnestly at the gathered sitcom family including Gramma Whimple and Mrs. Pool] I’m not doing Ecstasy tonight.” Needless to say, I ended up on the cutting room floor. Needless to say, I preferred it that way.

If you watch the documentary, you see me smoking a cigarette on a roof, and dancing at a street fair. You also see two very good friends of mine playing the roles of people they aren’t. I agree whole-heartedly with the reasons they chose to play the roles. The cultural landscape is desperate for a few examples of responsible adults who can use drugs recreationally and NOT become crack whores. But having seen first hand just how clouded even documentaries are by the agendas of those involved, my love affair with popular culture became much more difficult.