Casually Compromised - Book 1

Fiend Folio

Meanings occur on non-linear timelines. What you once did in the past can reoccur with new meaning today, found, stumbled upon in a new context.

This is the wild card of life.

By now Ally and a few of my other friends had suspected my degree of compromised integrity.

"Don't be used Parker"... one friend told me. Was Vera using me? She was my crutch, but was I hers? Did I mind? After all I am parting with the cash- but that was for the experience right?

Questioning your true nature has been a quest for my soul for as long as I can remember. I didn't want to question who I was any more. Or what I wanted. But I kept hearing that line in my head- to change, change myself first.

My quirks defined me. Much like the scars on Vera, they gave her purpose, crafted her vestige into whatever next.

Whatever will be will be.

Was that what she meant by a good fucking time?

Fitting in a suckers game of self regulated compliance- I thought to myself. I didn't care what people thought. I just came to enjoy. That was good fucking time I wanted. What started as quest to feel became a quest to be.

Even if Vera was using me, wasn't so bad really- a lot of people never get used at all I thought to myself. I used her. I enjoyed her. Odds are we weren't using each other at all, just experiencing time.

Back to the notion of meaningless, were any of our conversations meaningless? Surely a few I hope.

I laughed to myself as Veer poured gas into the SUV. "You're thinking all the time man..." he said, catching the complexity on my face.

"You need to contain that weirdness man.." Veer said starting the SUV. We were headed to the medical center, a new gig. A robotic surgical division, we'd make something up again, sell it and bank.

"Whatever my weirdness Veer, I'm sure they'll listen to me, and take my cash.." I said as Veer accelerated on the highway. I watched the mile markers pass by.

True enough, whatever strangeness I had, they'd always talk to me. Be it startup people or strippers, they all wanted something.

"You know I was going through those notes from the house mom.. what was her name?" Veer said pegging the accelerator at 85 mph.

"Sam, she's nice..divorced, kids etc..." I said calmly staring outside the window. Still thinking about the club, the people there, Sam, the house mom, she was nice. I pondered the idea of getting it on with the house mom not that I would but I wondered. Getting it on with the Shepard of the flock- hot.

I recall mentioning this to Vera one night. And she was taken back, like how could I even suggest a thing. Funny. Maybe her grasp weakening after all or more so my time with Vera had altered my perception a bit, I was noticing more.

"Was she cute?" Veer said curious excited.

"Aren't they all?" I said. "I think this our exit.." pointing at the road ahead.

"You need to take a break from that place man.." Veer said pulling on to main road, a large hospital system in the distance.

"Yep, I know. But something about the place energizes me." I said.

"Its the pussy..." he retorted back as to break me from yet another delusion I wanted to weave.

"Perhaps, yes. But being surrounded by hustlers, in our line of work Veer, thats pretty comforting..." I said.

"This is true man.. very true." Veer said finding a parking space.

Game time. I knew little of neurological surgical systems but in that building was another person with a big idea and my mission was simple, connect, and enable it. Like Vera enables me.

"Let's go have a good fucking time." I said to Veer as we approached the building.

"Yep, lets do this..." he said happy and energized by my confidence.

...

Days turned into weeks.

Time passed.

Stability as a mindset taking hold. My crutch less evident in my mind. Less required. The club still lingered on my mind. It was my Cheers. Everyone knew my name and I was another actor in the space, known for technology, known for ideas, tipping well and a good laugh.

Vera had inadvertently become my therapist. A side effect of the relentless work, the collapsing of time and pressure that had befallen upon me.

I had always been into psychology. I self projected a kind of therapist into the inner workings of the one girl I seemed to connect with most at the club- Vera.

At times at the height of the pressure, which now is still present but distant, I realize I made some mistakes.

Whatever I felt was largely erotic transference, a term they use in psychology to explain how "desire" often confuses the mind and enables desire to be registered as something it is not.

This is heightened by the fact the therapist wants to keep the patient in control, confident, willing. I've been my own therapist for years, audio journaling for the past 9 years alone. Think about that. I've been talking to myself for quite awhile. Then I projected that on Vera, and turned her into a therapist, an unwilling one at that. Strippers likely fall into the natural role of being a therapist as well I figured. They have to be.

How else do you go from person to person connecting in one part to make the sale, another part to keep the customer happy, in control, confident that money is well spent. The better the connection the better the cash. This made sense to me, or is that just me being a therapist again?

This arcade machine really really got to me.

"Parker... you've lost me.." I can picture Vera saying to me, she said that to me often really.

Vera a glorified Galaga arcade machine. Galaga was hard, one of the pinnacle arcade games of old. It was addicting, hard and fun. Likely a good fucking time at that.

Thinking of the girl as an arcade machine, am I back to my old justification self? When do I take any responsibility in this I wondered.

Reading up on erotic transference it makes more sense to me.

Again the manifestation of a feeling thats not true and the poor brain that wants it to be so. I was kinda done on the debate side of things.

My relationship with Ally was significantly better. I had worked harder to make it so, and lessen the dependency on Galaga. But there was no denying it, that game was a blast.

Vera represents the forbidden, one we even discuss as such. A place we'll never go. A line I will never cross. That it in itself builds more tension but for some reason I feel the boundaries of it between us. While our chemistry is intense, the respect for those boundaries even stronger. We're a mix of the intensity and friendship which is why i'm not a regular and something else I guess.

Coming to terms with reality, a step in my healing process, perhaps. Could I truly be in control again?

It was back to business in the club, the product was working, but almost too well. By now a good 90 days in, its base of users were clear- the manager Joe actually used the core product less himself and the girls, the ones starting out and getting into their new found job, used it the most.

Vera and a handful of other girls didn't use it. Vera didn't need any technology assist to convert. She had her bad nights usually due to crowd vibe or mixed conditions or just annoyed with people in general. This was the other sobering aspect of the new reality I had embraced. The chemistry I have with Vera is clear, we click and I savor that- but she's on a different timeline, different plane than myself. Seeing it beyond anything other than the obvious of what it is, is the crazy. Just isn't in the cards or in any shape of reality. My delusion is even content with this notion sitting in the parking lot waiting for another crazy idea to surface.

The restless boredom was happening less. Sure I'd get bored but I seemed to handle it easier. Stress was still boundless at times but again I shy'd away from both crunches of alcohol and Vera, favoring time and perhaps sleep or a new obsession.

I'm selfish.