The Yacht Club, though, was in the process of transforming into something else, and I had come to better understand why and how. The value of that membership-the initial price of an ape was around $200, but the price floor was by now over $300,000-is a function of the collection’s exclusivity (there are just 10,000). Besides receiving a headshot of one’s ape, this was the thing owners really got: access to members-only meetups, merch drops, and Discord rooms. This was an invite-only gathering of the Bored Ape Yacht Club, namely those savvy enough to have gotten in early and held onto an avatar from arguably the most well-known NFT collection to date, which bills itself as part social club, part streetwear brand, and part collaborative art project.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been the brokest person in a room, but it had to be the most ridiculous-any given three attendees, one owner pointed out to me, were collectively worth at least a million dollars, most of them much more than that. “I want to, like, fuck bitches and live a player life.”Ī timeless story of redemption, sure, but the mechanism by which he planned to make it was new: Like everyone else at the party (except, I suppose, myself), Sonny was the proud owner of a ludicrously expensive cartoon portrait of a monkey. He is born again, in a manner of speaking. Now, his demons are long gone, and with them his propensity for failure. Express’s “Do It (’Til You’re Satisfied).” “I like to think that happened to me,” Sonny said. Sonny lit a joint the DJ started spinning B.T. It was early spring, we were on the crowded deck of a private club in Hollywood, on Sunset Boulevard, and he was sharing this story by way of illustrating why he particularly valued a passage from the Gospel of Mark-the one in which Jesus casts the demons out of a man into a herd of pigs, which proceeds to rush off a cliff and drown. Bad things happening in my life over and over and over again.” Stoutly built and bearded, he shook his head somberly as he recalled the demon possession that had nearly ruined him. “I was struggling, doing bad things and having constant failures. Sonny Q, who would prefer I not use his last name, was telling me about the exorcism he had received as a younger man in Boston, in which he lay in a bathtub while a priest covered him with eggs.
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