In a way, I've really come a long way from where I was when I was 17 years old. Before that I used to write punk rock songs, which I'd done for most of my life. I think it's been a gradual growing process.
Cut me some slack with this, it's rife with inaccuracies, but whatever. I just want to show how bad I used to suck, and how much that really hasn't changed in the slightest.
The story itself is called, "Of Fortune, For Avi" and it's a non-linear story focusing on three generations of Japanese women, with the eldest struggling with her identity as a Japanese woman adjusting to living in America, especially having been present in Nagasaki when the atomic bomb was dropped.
Her daughter is a bit rebellious, and tries to stay further away from the paths of traditional Japanese families as a teenager, and eventually runs away from home. She gives birth to her daughter Avi.
Avi is struggling with the how she was raised by her mother, and how much respect she has for her grandmother, and how often those two stubborn women's views collide, often times leaving her square in the middle. She's a lot like her mom, but has much more of her grandmother spirit inside of her than her mother would like, or that Avi even knows.
So, hope ya hate it:
"The first time I ever had Yogurt was the day the Americans bombed Nagasaki" said Dya Nyung. "I sat beneath a willow at the Voita creek, the sun--"she broke off, lost in the moment that was etched into her eyes, which were worn with crows feet that tugged at the corner of her slits.
"Gramma, why'd the 'Mericans bomb Nagasaki?" questioned her granddaughter, Avi Xing.
"It's just sometimes, people become lost in themselves, they loose faith in paitence. Its...its to much to explain."
Avi visited her grandmother once a week, to drop off essential supplies. They usually sat for a few hours and talked about the weeks events. Dya didn't get out as much anymore, she'd become aged.
She hated to look into the mirror, as it defied her so blatantly. How could an attractive girl of 19 become the withered, aged elderly sham of what she once was. It depressed her horribly.
"Avi, Do you know what you are?"
"Yes Gramma. Im the daughter of Ryia, and the brave Luitenent Fiu Xing, who gave his life in...
Dya cut her off.
"I asked girl, if you knew what you were! I did not ask for facts of heritage, I did not ask for the heroics of your lineage! I asked do you know what YOU ARE!"
Avi, slightly perplexed by her gentle natured grandmothers sudden outbursts replied quietly, and quite confused "Im afraid, Gramma, that I dont know what you mean."
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Ryia Nyung laughed at the sight of him. He looked like an adolescent, a mere teenager in his fathers suit and tie. She caught a look at him dead on in the eyes, and he coyly smiled and said: "Good evening, Ms. Nyung"
"Why Fiu, they've postivley turned you into John Wang!" said Ryia, and she immersed herself behind a wall of laughter.
She was calm, witty, and smart. Sometimes to smart for her own good.
In the December of 1984, she left San Francisco, where her mother portested little, but guilted her daughter with "What am I supposed to do now, become silent, alone, a widow with nothing to love but cats?" but Ryia only kissed her mothers cheek and headed towards Arizona.
"Mother, Im but a hop, skip, and a state line away, what makes you think you are to become alone" she smirked. "By the way Ma, you live in the city of Fags, they dont allow pussycats in your building."
And on the note, she calmly sat in her car, turned on her cassette tape of Adam And The Ants 'Kings of the Wild Frontier' and sped off down the hill.
That was three months ago. She now lived in a one bedroom loft in downtown Phoenix. She didnt think much to the town, it was kind of empty but growing seemingly every day. Thats where she met Fiu. He was a thin, lanky kid with the inability to grow a beard or moustache. At the raw age of 18 his parents passed away in a car accident, leaving him to fend for himself, and thus far, the best he could do was join the Military.
"You know, John Wang or not, youre not exactally Ms. Land of the Rising Sun yourself!" He smirked.
She spat an ice cube at him.
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Dya fumed over a glass of water.
"How could she just...that stupid girl!"
On her dinning room table there lay a note, slightly crumpled in a fit of blind anxiety.
"Hey Ma, hope all is well in the city of rice, trolleys, and HIV providers. Im kidding mother. Anyways, theres no subtle way to put this, so I'll just be blunt. I love you very much. Come visit soon. Also, enjoy the cactus.
P.s: Im pregnant.
- Love always, Ryia."
Dya poured out the water. It was four in the afternoon, but at this point, it couldve been sun rise for all she cared. She pulled out a bottle of Whiskey. After tossing the cap aside, she poured a healthy level into her cup and and stared at it momentarily.
When that moment was up, she poured the glass of burbon into the small potted Cactus Ryia had sent her. She fared it in poor taste to have recieved all of this as a mothers day surpise.
She picked up the lonely bottle of Whiskey and sat in her den, with the TV blarring.
20 minutes later she looked into the mirror and rationed.
"I cant be a Grandmother...." she slurred, the giggled.
"Dya, you lonely son of a bitch....you look like Betty Ford..."
She then passed out.
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Avi sat on the porch, feeling the scorn of her Grandmothers biting remarks.
"Your mother and you are so....so FULL of being AMERICAN that you might as well ride a bald eagle to Washington fucking DC!
She began to cry.
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