The morning after the final overnight of shooting on Cosmic Bowling, John Christon and I, slightly delirious from sleep deprivation, drove his gear and rentals back into New York. We kept ourselves awake swapping stories about the weirdness of suburbia and the shit we would get up to as teens in our middle-class neighborhoods. The conversation was so interesting to me that I decided, as a small side project, I would love to catalog the stories of my friends from when they were kids. If nothing else, it could be an interesting resource for all of the writers we know looking for inspiration.
It should absolutely be noted that all these stories, especially my stories, are filtered through time, flawed, and misremembered. But that's never stood in the way of a good story.