Three Seeds For Stories

Heather's parents meeting with me but super rich. Having a sit down. But it's like they need my advice. Well the dad feels I can help them to understand something but the mother is more like blaze and cynical so she pretty much thinks this little get together is a waste of time plus she hates me. The mom really hates me. The baby steps in my huge oatmeal or protein drink but the dad cleans it up. This black lady says that's a fact, Jack! and I'm in it. She was telling a story, well it was more like a prolonged interjection, imposing on everyone's attention span and sense of obligation versus judgment and un comfortability at a long dining table. I give a pound to the black guy from ghostbusters. Then I'm trying to see if I can get the hot pink hair gel that Heather wouldn't sell me when her parents and I are talking about the dad of Heathers boyfriends friend who was beat up and kicked out to make room for the new guy. He brought a towel over with like a pie on it that says I found God. The sceptical receiver says That's Nice. They both laugh. The host reluctantly let's the giver in his home. The house is deceptively middle class and modest outside. The dad is weak but the mom won't tolerate it.
The son sprays himself with something that gives him power. His breath is cold and unsmelling. He is viciously racist.
Listen, he tells the recruit, all you gotta do is like it to love it. Its like an all of the above thing.



He was waiting for her around the corner from her parents' house.
What are you going to tell them? He had asked before she went in. Just wait right here, she said.
Sometimes she didn't tell James what she had to do to be with him. Of course, he thought, she would do what she had to do. And that had been that.
So he's smoking a cigarette while he waits. He has been realizing lately that he had started smoking when he was alone. He didn't know what to do with such a realization, but he did something with it anyways. He wondered if that's what adults did. If adults did things alone sometimes, he had wondered. Things had to mean other things for James.
Sarah comes out of the house with an unbuttoned sweater. It was a sweater the texture fit and color of which announced that its bearer was still beholden to a mother and father who not only cared for her but wanted others to know they had the means and the moral cunning to do so. The wearing of this sweater was also saying something about the daughter qua willing sporter of symbolic garment. It said that she was learning to negotiate. She was growin into a world where everyone wants something and even a parent-child relationship is corrupt with compromise and that ugly feeling one gets of having vanquished ones opponent and walked away from a transaction with the spoils of negotiation. A world where parents smile for having duped their progeny and ungrateful brats brag of what they purpotedly took from their parents even as they neglect to show any gratitude for the bigger things she had been given by same. A world where the one who was there for you when you were weak and vitally dependent on them kick you with two feet as they learn to stand on their own as if they were jumping out of a kung fu movie into adulthood.
But James was not concerned for that at the moment and if he played his cards right when the time for the terms to come into effect the terms might could be damned he thought, with wild abandon. The important thing he knew was not the bond on which an agreement might have been struck nor the sanctity of the family but the desires of a young lover who was his lucky date tonight.


"Once you're exposed to fearful things you begin to worry that the peaceful, happy life could vanish or be threatened."

- David Lynch
I was living in a bad area but it was all I could afford before I found my own apartment and saved for a security deposit. I'd been living with my dad and could no longer accept those terms. I was between a rock and a hard place. Another scary place was for me to be bleeding with blood running down my mouth onto the sidewalk as I walk 20 blocks towards a taxi area/bus stop before I can get a hold of someone to come get me and take me to the hospital. I had been told I needed to get to an emergency room immediately if this happened. It was following an operation I had, tonsils removed, fairly routine so it was 99 percent sure for nothing like that to happen. I cried when I got out of the emergency and waited outside the hospital for my friend to take me home. I was so alone and helpless. I wanted my mom.