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/// rangeldoesnotexist \\\
an art project by
christian rangel

Look, I’m not some top-notch, grade-A, tanned and successful thirty-something; sadly, you’ll realize this shortly. I’m not dictating these pages to a well-scrubbed, starry-eyed sexy underling on my private jet, interrupted only by nosebleeds that I insist are simply the result of my allergic reaction to a tasteful leather interior and the rigors of daily cabin pressurization. No, I’m basically the guy who stumbled in, relied a little too heavily on his $1 Coors Light joie de vivre, made it to the middle, and has no problem letting you in for a look around.

While the particulars of the experiences detailed here are specific to me, wider predicaments and decisions and insecurities confront us all. This project is simply one man’s take on the most prevalent of issues. No matter the choices I’ve made while hacking through the undergrowth to the future, no matter how unlike your story is to mine, I think you will still find plenty here to empathize with.

So, what can you expect to read in my little nook of the internet? Oh, man, all sorts of neat stuff:

You can read about my experience tripping absolute-fucking-balls on ayahuasca or the time I was mistakenly recruited by a cult.

Do you frequent museums and art galleries but dread mingling with pretentious assholes who won’t extend the basic decency of introducing themselves? Check out my nifty guide on museum etiquette and you’ll blend in with those art-loving shitheads in no time!

Perhaps you’ve been asked to purchase additional alcohol on the day of a party that you’re not hosting. Good news: I’ve rounded up the best booze options from the bottom shelf. Does this dampen the mood of the party? Sure. Are you causing irreparable damage to your reputation? Yes. Will this incite violence? Maybe. But who cares? You’re a made man now, never again to be trusted with anything more expensive than plastic cups.

You might appreciate some of my open letters to people who will never respond or the one to someone I hoped would.

There’s an ongoing advice column scattered throughout here that no one really wanted or asked for. Hell, you might even feel compelled to submit a question one day. Just don’t ask me for financial advice. I will bankrupt you.