The Cutest Racism (story)

Two Chinese girls are boarding at an American private school. It's 4:30 pm, and they are in their dorm having a conversation while they do their homework together.

Translated into English


"Hu? Why are you hanging out with that Japanese boy?"


"Masaya? Why not?"


"Japanese, Koreans, horrible people. Almost not human. History teaches us that."


"Yi, your roommate is Korean. Mine is too"


"Ugh I hate her. She's so messy, I have to clean up after her."


"Sounds like me and my roommate"


"So your roommate is filthy too?"


"No. I'm the messy one. I make her clean up after me."


"You shouldn't do that! You can't just make other people clean up after you!"


"You just said Koreans are hardly even people so why do you care?"


A long pause. Yi has a look somewhere between annoyed, angry, and confused. The 2nd girl looks bored out of her mind. Then Yi says:


"You still haven't said why you're hanging out with Masaya."

"Yi, just cause your parents wouldn't even let you watch a TV show if it was made in Japan doesn't mean you have to be as bigoted as they are."

"My parents gave me proper values and a sense of-"

"Sounds like we'd hate each other. Anyway I like Maseya. He isn't -quite- as much of an idiot as most other people in this school."


"You think he's cute don't you? People say he's cute but he isn't. Japanese aren't cute. They're ugly."


"Who says he's cute?"


"People"


"By people do you mean you?"


"No, no-I think he's-"


"Gorgeous?"


"Stop it. I really hate you sometimes"


"Well you're free to leave me alone, rather than enduring my company"


Yi gets up to leave. Hu says


"Wait. I have something I was supposed to give you."


She reaches into her pocket, takes a piece of paper with Chinese writing on it, and hands it to her scowling companion.


"What is this?"


"Read it."


A pause.


"It's a love note to me..."


"Uh huh"


"But who's it from?"


"Masaya of course."


"But it's in Mandarin."


"Yeah, he's taught it to himself to impress you. I helped him a bit. Not much else to do in a place this boring. "

There is a long, awkward pause. Then Yi starts to cry. She goes to her room. Hu watches her go impassively. Then she smiles despite herself. She'd never admit it, but she likes this kind of sappy romance.

The Mind Reader (story)

I hate it. I sense the things in everyone's head for miles around me. It's nothing but a cluttered mess of thoughts and feelings, sensations and images. Nothing makes sense. It's so difficult to write this because I keep on seeing and feeling so many things. And i hate it because I forget what's mine and whats someone else's. Do i feel the warmth of the sun? is that someone elses feeling? don't know. Just trying to write but it's so hard to remember what I'm doing. Can't focus on anything when feeling everything. and sooner or later the pain. someone will get their heart broken or will be hurt and I will feel it. i just laughed. Somthing funny about imminent pain? No somebody else must have heard something funny. risk of feeling pain cant be funny. it's scary the risk of pain is scary. i hav to keep writing. need this to remeber who I am. scared to forget what thoughts is myown. Writing sofast feel urgency. Is this urgent? got an image of messy paper with math problms on it. Somebody else's homework is late. This isn't urgent. I can take my time, use grammar. Have to keep writing so when I wake up I have a somthing that helps me remember where others end and I begin. What's my name? I don't know. Whenever I try to think of my name a dozen pop into my head. Don't know which is mine and which are just people thinking of their name. Horrible fear. a knife. Not being stabbed. somebody else is. hurts theyre dyeing.god ithurts ithurtsithurtsithurts.

my third story

This story takes some of the elements from my first story. I think of the first as a draft for this. It wasn't good enough to stand on it's own.



He was dying. He lay in the hospital, slowly watching himself deteriorate. He was waitng to turn from a person into a corpse, an object. A chunk of biological matter without any meaning or significance. Naturally he was a bit bitter. His mother was planning to visit him today. He sighed. Their visits were the most painful parts of his death. Reminders that the only thing he was and would ever be was a pointless tragedy. He sighed again and tried to think of something to do. He decided to start writing his last requests. He wasn't sure what they could be, what he really could ask for after he died. He knew he didn't want his school to have some announcement on his death. Couldn't stand the idea of people being sentimental about him, now that he was devoid of sentiment to almost anything else. The idea of a moment of silence or a sappy obituary in the school paper was repulsive to him. He took his notebook and was about to start writing when there was a soft ding and his mother arrived. She looked far more sick than he did. "Hi sweetie, how are you?" His mother asked him. There was a pause. "I'm dying" he replied in a monotone voice.


"Sweetie don't say that"


"It's true"


"You need to have a good attitude"


"For what reason?"


"Having faith improves your chances-"


"Faith in what? God?" A note of anger began to creep into his voice "Why should God save me huh? What makes me worth it? And what if he does? What right does he have? So many people die in tragic accidents, if I live, God might smite an orphanage in some third world country full of
aids and famine. If he saves me I'll kill myself just to spite the bastard"


Their was a long silence. His mother began to cry. Shame flooded through him. He couldn't do this. He couldn't hurt his mother when he was so close to death. A final impression is even more important that a first one.

"I'm sorry"

"It's ok, your upset, you don't mean it"

They talked about casual, forgetable things for a while, passing time with one another. After a while she reluctantly left to go home. He knew she was afraid she wouldn't see him again. When she had left he took his notebook and wrote "Death is the greatest cause of forgiveness"

Then he lay down to rest for a while.

My Dad

I'm so sorry for my father. He knows we don't relate to one another. He claims he was a lot like me at my age, and whether or not that's true we don't have anything in common now. We don't even understand each other. I think he blames himself. He really shouldn't, he was never the classic image of a "Dad" I suppose, even in the most basic things. Never talked to me about sports, his childhood, shaving, girls, morality, ect. I'd probably be a homosexual if certain christian right wingers were correct (they aren't and I'm not). But, I don't care about sports, I learned about shaving and his childhood from my mom, no advice would help me find romance and I'm glad I though about morality for myself because it gave me a chance to think about philosophy. But now he feels guilty for all that, (not that he would admit it) to the point where he's desperate to spend more time with me. And since we don't have the same interests, apart from the show Dexter, he's going to try to learn about video games from me. He doesn't care about games, doesn't know anything about them, doesn't really want to. He's just desperate to redeem himself for not defining me in relation to him, by defining himself in relation to me. He really shouldn't feel this way. He's had rich life, he was a radical who was arrested for protesting, he married in his twenties, got a very civil divorce, and married my mom in his 40's. His family was poor but he was very successful, if a bit of workholic. I shouldn't be what primarily defines him.

Short Story

Inspired by the show Dexter.



I found out Elise was dead. They announced her suicide on morning announcements. I stopped and turned cold. Not because, as most people might assume, I was sorry for her. This was a new situation and I had to be careful not to give any hints that might let people see how empty I am. I thought about how a person who wasn't empty would react. How well did I know her? I had talked to her occasionally, but was not considered to be her friend. Should I pretend to cry? I looked around, most people seemed to be distressed, one girl is crying but I think she was a friend of Elise's. I figured that I didn't need to cry. I wondered if I might have something to do with her suicide. I stole 30 dollars from her purse last week. I didn't think that 30 dollars would cause anyone to commit suicide but it could be a final push. I felt chilled with fear for a few minutes, but nobody had seen me steal the money. Nobody would know that I might have had something to do with her suicide. I felt safe again. I almost smiled but I remembered that wouldn't have looked right to the class.

After first class (which, to my enjoyment, was cut short due to the teacher consoling the upset students). I watched a kid get harassed in the hallway. After a moment one of them slapped the back of his head. I was almost able to empathise with him. Not the kid being hit, but the one who was doing the hitting. I always have an interest in that kind of thing. An exertion of power over a weaker creature. It appeals to me. I almost wanted to join in, but I recognized the kid being bullied, an awkward but very wealthy student. I waited until his tormentors had dispersed before I approached him. I feigned sympathy for him, and apologised for not helping him. He forgave me. I knew he would. He would have done the same thing. He was a coward, I could tell by looking at him. I could befriend him, make him trust me. I could steal his things and he wouldn't have the courage to admit to himself that some he trusted had betrayed him. I smiled. He took that as a friendly expression and tried to make some small talk.

Halloween

Halloween was ok. My sister invited five of her friends over. I don’t trick or treat but I followed them around at the bequest of my sister. I dressed as a nun. Her friends were pretty nice, though I was disappointed that they didn’t want to watch “Let the Right One In”, my favorite movie. It’s a Swedish movie about a 12 year old boy who befriends a mysterious girl that’s just moved in next door. He learns she is a vampire, and that she murders to survive, but she has been so kind to him that he can’t turn against her. It’s a fascinating film that’s sweet, creepy, funny, and morally ambiguous. Rotten Tomatoes lists it as the best reviewed vampire movie since “Nosferatu.”