That’s the terrible, sad little thought that crossed my mind a little while ago. I was thinking about the scenic driving I’m going to do over my vacation, and I realized I wanted someone to go with me. And then this sad little boy in the back of my mind spoke up and said: “So who’s my best friend now?”
Yet another hard thing about being single after so long. Keeps making me want to cry.
Howdy all, if you’re reading this, you’re probably at least peripherally aware that my birthday is coming up. I’m throwing a fucking party for once, and again, if you’re reading this, you’re probably invited.
Date: Saturday, April 28th (My actual birthday.)
Time: Pretty much all flippin’ day.
Location: Somewhere in the vicinity of Paso Robles. Details to the RSVP list.
Munchies: Best barbecue I know of, provided by DK. We’ll be providing tri-tip, burgers, and dogs for probably about 10 people, and there will be plenty of fire if you want to bring your own thing. Feel free to bring something to share as well. As I collect RSVPs, I’ll iron out the details a little more.
The story of Lucas’ mother is much more simple. She was a whore. Okay: it’s not quite that simple. She was a freelance companion. Born with the blessing of a beautiful body and the mixed curse of a brilliant mind, she chose an expedient way to avoid indenturing her life away. She rented out her body and comparatively small portions of her time to very high paying clients, and under much stricter and more protective terms than even the most lenient of indentures might have provided.
Given the general trend toward either self- or work obsession amongst the sorts of people both willing and able to pay upwards of $17,000 dollars for an evening’s companionship, it can’t come as a surprise that very few of Alexandria Nohara’s clients took the time to find out much about her. Those who did, however, were almost universally stunned to find out that most of her earnings went into a pursuit of astronomy unrivaled anywhere in the monetarily obsessed world.
Having been an exceptionally precocious child, Alexandria had been entranced from an early age with the idea of a “pure science”. Likely a byproduct of the pervasive cultural obsession with finance and gain, her desire to invest herself in something as “worthless” as astronomy was seen as one step short of a mental illness by her teachers and peers. Fortunately, her parents encouraged her efforts as valuable mental exercise, and encouraged them, so long as Alexandria kept up with her more sensible studies.
When she came to them to make the case for her carreer choice, they were admirably opposed to the idea, and just as commendably, they set aside their parental emotions in the face of their daughter’s solid logic. By staging a bastardized modernized version of a Japanese mizuage she hoped to raise enough money to pay for an aggressive course of higher education in a single stroke. Her assessment of her own physical merits was accurate, and her proposed methods of marketing and transaction were sound. David and Midori Nohara branded skin-deep smiles on their faces as they handed their sixteen year old daughter a check for twenty five thousand dollars in order to begin her career as what they could not stop themselves from thinking of as a whore.
