In Negativland, your little brother gets a migraine during Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix but doesn't tell you, just waits until he gets home and cries to mom in thin, high, back-of-the-throat noises with his back arched against the couch cushions. Also in Negativland, your boss wears tie-dye shirts with brown fake-leather belts and tells stories that aren't true about punching holes through the walls of his office. In Negativland, you get to the bottom of a huge bowl of couscous and find a tiny, delicate, dead baby ant. In Negativland, you feel kind of sorry for it and also want to hurl. In Negativland, you are close to people you do not want to be close to and are far from people you do not want to be far from. Also in Negativland, there are lots of places spelled wrong for fun, like the Drugstor and the Movi Theatr and the Emergencie Rume.
If you like these sorts of things, then you will probably love visiting or even living in Negativland. Train tickets are wildly overpriced but worth it if you fall asleep reading the first part of a torn-apart copy of Newsweek and wake up hours later to discover that a large man in a Hawaiian shirt has been drinking a beer and watching you sleep.
P.S. In Negativland, your girlfriend writes a news story for you because you are too lazy and/or drug-addled to move.
