Congratulations Tender Yearning!

Embraced by a sunset, gazing out over a bay, you'll briefly come to rest this evening on the shoulders of a young woman named Brandy.

Brandy will be a poor fit for you - she will, by and large, not be terribly bright, and she won't have much of a sense of the brevity of her own life, or of how precious every moment is.  She'll primarily be interested in relationships for monetary reasons, and she'll be a bit of a self-avowed racist.  The humble degree of self-awareness required for such matters will elude her - she'll think of little but what is immediately before her and, as such, will think herself happy without ever considering what happiness is.

You will, however, for a handful of moments, settle over her, filling her with notions that there is something more in the world, that something bigger than her exists and beats within the hearts of a multiplicity of humanity existing as a framework for some other, greater consciousness or emotional truth.

This vague sense, even diluted, will bring tears to Brandy's eyes.  Not because she'll be struck by how remarkable existence is, no, no.  She'll start crying because she'll feel sad: if she's been wrong about the world, her whole selfish, awful, meaningless life to this point will be unjustified.

So bear this in mind when she shrugs you off and runs over to the Miyata, where her boyfriend du jour is sitting in the driver's seat, waiting for her to come back with the drugs he sent her out to get.  Bear this in mind when she tells him "she feels faggy out there" and insists that he leave with her right away.  Bear this in mind when she walks down an alley to blow a stranger for coke.  It isn't you, or some failure on your part.  It's something she lost, or perhaps more correctly, something she never had.

Congratulations Tender Yearning!

Congratulations Disabled Citizen!

Three hundred sixty four days out of the year your club foot and near blindness make you little more than a peril and a chore for everyone around you. Your close family believes that you’re little more than a burden with access to sweet parking spots and other drivers on the road perceive you as the single biggest threat to their safety since crystal meth.

But today when you pull in to your local 7-11’s parking lot to buy cigarettes from the girl you like, Celine, a man from inside the store is going to come rushing out at you. Since you also have anxiety issues this is going to trigger a panic attack and you’re going to lose control of your vehicle, crashing into the window of the 7-11 and pinning the fleeing young man between your car and the building.

You’ll stare at him in horror for a second, until you realize he’s holding a gun; he must’ve been robbing the 7-11 and sweet, sweet Celine along with it. You’ll feel a momentary swelling of pride with the knowledge that you’ve helped to both protect her and restore her honor.

This pride, however, will immediately turn to fear when you see that he is still holding a gun in his hand and that it is pointing in your general direction.

When he realizes what has happened he will shoot blindly will his last breath, almost hitting you with one of the three bullets he manages to put through your front windshield before he loses consciousness.

Celine, bless her heart, will run out of the store to see what’s happened. She’ll see the bullet holes and the corpse and she’ll be struck by a mixture of horror and gratitude. She’ll open up the door to see if you’re alright, and you’ll be so taken by her presence that you’ll be speechless. Eventually you’ll be able to communicate that you’re okay with a nod and, stuttering, ask if he hurt her at all.

She’ll smile and shake her head and wait by your side the whole time until the police and paramedics show up. If you keep playing it this smooth, buddy, she’ll be back at your place making your life a lot less miserable tonight.

Good luck and congratulations disabled citizen.