Short story Part 2/3 “Be more creative,” Max says to her, “you can’t just be sad, that’s not what makes an artist!” “Everything I make is so fucking contrite when it’s not like that though. My creativity comes from my fright, my terror, my sadness. The feelings I really feel.” She reluctantly fires back.
“People want to relate to you. They don’t want depression as the new black, it shouldn’t be trendy to be all apathetic and shit.”
“That’s the problem! It is trendy! Let’s be sad until I get a partner, let’s be sad so I can get sympathy, attention, and validation in this stupid world. We are a sad, pathetic generation, just looking for love. We could be using our numbers, access to technology, and communication to bring change to the world. Instead, we are all a bunch of whiners masquerading as winners, do any of us actually win?” She blurts out in exasperation.
“Well that was a good paragraph of a rant, what can we expect next week?” Max retorts.
“You never know man, this brain is like Howard Stern Radio.”
“Howard Stern?” Max inquires.
“Yeah, you know, the guy…. He did radio… in the 90’s… fought the FCC about censorship…”
Max shakes his head.
“Well anyway, people listened to him just to see what he would say next. It was funny ‘cause the people that loved him listened to him for an hour and 20 minutes on average, but the people that hated him would listen even longer, for almost 2 and a half hours. Isn’t that insane? Average radio listener is only like 18 minutes, so it was pretty crazy. He was a genius in his time, pushing boundaries, questioning the status quo. Pretty sure there’s a movie about him.”
“Hmm. Yeah, never heard of him.” Max sits down beside her waiting for some more interesting facts. She has already said too much, and her anxiety is kicking in. This interaction has gotten weird and all she wants is for that feeling to go away. That hyper sensitive feeling that creeps on you and makes you just want to run. Run to make sure you still can, because you are paralyzed. He doesn’t notice that feeling when he puts his hand on her thigh. He doesn’t notice she is frozen, shaking slightly, but not enough to notice.