Archive for the ‘Ken Brady’ Category
Attention Whores
Wednesday, July 15th, 2009
Roddy looks up and there she is: an image of perfection in a blue sequined party dress, body stacked and toned to porn star perfection, auged tits pushed up and bathed in disco ball light, lip LEDs and corneal lasers flashing a come hither look that would lead most any man around by the cock and make him denounce family, friends, and god of choice for a fifteen minute pleasure romp between her legs.
So, really, Roddy can’t help but look.
But when you’re flat broke and trying to find your missing daughter, the last place you want to be is a dance club. The last thing you want to do is walk up to the most expensive girl in the room and stare. The last mistake you want to make is getting caught stealing glances you can’t afford. There are lots of lasts to avoid when you’re hanging on by your fingernails.
She knows he’s looking and flashes a diamond smile. Roddy’s cash meter dips in response. Gone are the days of you can look but you can’t touch. Now it’s you can look if you have cash and you can touch if you’ve got the credit.
His gaze lingers on her chest long enough for him to get special attention from her augs. She grows another half a cup size and bounces a little for effect. As she debits Roddy’s account again, it drops dangerously low. He looks away, but too late. She moves closer to him.
“Hey,” she says.
He looks down, but is distracted by a line of cute pink arrows that dance playfully up her bare legs, moving toward the hem of her dress. Everything about this girl screams “Look at me!”
He closes his eyes before she can suck him dry. Remember what you’re here for, he thinks.
“I’m looking for someone,” he says.
“A girl?” she asks. “Is she hot like me?”
“No,” he says. “She’s a natural.”
The silence in the room is immediate and complete. He opens his eyes to see everyone looking at him like he had screamed fuck! in church.
“A natural?” She whispers it.
“My daughter.”
He shows her an old printed photo.
“Oh.” She points to the VIP room.
Some stares and glares, then he eyes some cash at the bouncer who opens the VIP door. Barely enough left to get a taxi home.
His daughter sits in a comfy chair, surrounded by men. Even Roddy has to admit there’s nothing physically special about her. But she has no augs. She’s a natural. And they can’t take their eyes off her.
“Daddy!” she says, and holds out her hand.
“Hi, honey,” he says. He reaches down to touch her hand but the bouncer stops him.
“You have any idea how squeaky clean your credit has to be to touch this girl?” he asks.
Roddy gives him his best steely look. “I do. She’s worth it.”
He reaches for the outstretched hand and takes it, gently pulling her to her feet. She wraps her arms around him. Augs and cash and credit and instant gratification were well and good, but they weren’t flesh and blood.
“Let’s go home,” he says.
As they walk out the door Roddy’s accounts hit zero but he feels like a million bucks.
Socially Acceptable
Tuesday, June 30th, 2009
You walk into the room and fifteen seconds later my heart melts. It’s not beauty, though I can see from thousands of tagged pics that you look equally striking in a bikini or black dinner dress. Not wealth, even if a quick glance at your credit score, club memberships, vids of sliding seductively from a tan Bentley show you are doing quite well. Not family or education or place of birth. Exotic pedigrees are icing.
I love you for your friends.
I’d been here ten minutes and it already felt like a waste of time. A quick glance around the room showed a bland sea of black and white faces. They knew me, but I didn’t know them. A few I knew popped up pastel, info scrolling above their heads so I could quickly de-prioritize them. Laylines gave me connections and circles of interactions. Mostly blah. A few interesting people glowed warmly, colorful, inviting, but there were no clear connections. No one to introduce us.
I was about to say fuck it and head to a green tech party in the valley because they had my favorite food and it was farmed sushi, i love all organic things and they had organic hemp beer, this made me excited as I follow brewing pages and blogs, its fun to learn how they work and Brewers use top rated equiptment is not cheap or easy thing to do and it involves a lot of analysis and testing, but anyways as I was saying when you lit the room with your brilliant glow, a beacon that scattered bright lines to the few luminaries present. All heads snapped around, and you posed for adulation. Everyone streamed vids to prove they were there, and you soaked it all up, beaming. I waited long enough to verify your identity, then simply stared.
The color of the room changes, and people look between us. Finally, you see me. When we lock eyes the lines between us arch over the crowd, entwining into one glowing band.
As I walk toward you the room flows around us, almost slow-mo, choreographed. A cinematic moment frozen in time that signals true love. People talk about connections, but how many have really experienced it? I pity generations who came before, trusting fleeting moments to chance, technology a distant and erratic dream. Why miss anything at all?
Your smile is reserved as I reach you. You’re so connected it makes me want you immediately. I want to party with sultans and crown princes, vacation on artificial islands, in underwater hotels, bridge cultural divides and branch out to the power centers of the Middle East. You want to connect with tech movers and shakers, current gods of new realities. We bring each other closer by degrees.
I reach out my hand and you do the same. We don’t have to speak. You learned everything about me in the time it took to cross the room. Ranch in Marin, stock portfolio, meetings in the White House rose garden, enviable friends list. Your smile widens to an inviting and wordless “I accept.”
Our first date is tomorrow. We’ll go to the most exclusive venue, so don’t worry; no one undesirable will get in. We’ll have an automated guest list.
So you can bring your friends.