Later in Life I Graduated to Drunken Bar Brawls
Sun. Sept. 10, 1995
Peachtree's crashed out on the couch. The movie "Desperado" was a stylish, sexy, lame action pic. Today is actually Thursday, but I'm writing this where I should have written on Sunday if I wasn't such an undisciplined hack. Why didn't I just do this on Sunday before I got sucked into the Sunday Times? I could have been scribbling away all through the NFL. I'm sitting on the toilet. (More than you needed to know, eh?) Oakland beat Washington, Dallas over Denver (Boo hiss. They should put a dollar $ign on Neon Deion's helmet) Cleveland beat Tampa Bay; SF> ATL; PHI>AZ. So what? The Dodgers swept the Pirates. Don't we meet Leopold Bloom on the toilet? My pants are around my knees. What else? Shit. Literally. I've got to hurry through this. Ha. That, too. Grunt. There's no way I'll be able to get through these pages up to Thursday before I have to leave for work. I told my TA, Andres, I'd give him some story beginnings for his creative writing class. I especially meant "Cold". It's already a quarter to seven. The Artist's Way talks about managing and directing periods of anger and expecting periods of dormancy followed by growth spurts. I'm eating an apple now. I've actually been eating pretty healthily. Grapes, apples, fish, cereal, rice, broccoli, spinach, carrots, etc. It's a F*cking trip the way these computers will sabotage you. Ho tiddly de ho ho. I'm going to be late. Now it's seven o four. I'm waiting on a couple of copies of Jim Crack to print. This is only the bottom of page two. The Sunday "Calvin and Hobbes" showed Calvin imagining himself as a predatory allosaur or something fierce but not big enough to bring down an incredibly big, incredibly stupid brontosaur as he waited behind Moe, the class bully, at the water fountain. Everyone has their experiences with bullies, don't they? I don't remember any of mine being too pronounced. I recall maybe a half a dozen after-school fistfights. I was skinny, but I never got beat up, never quite got any respect either, but I never got beat up. My brother and I used to whale on each other everyday. I was so quiet and skinny, though, I don't think the bullies expected the kind of resistance I put up. The old man used to let us have it often enough, too, that I had a pretty high pain tolerance. I remember Paul Fuhr, who had 70's long hair, and wore OP clothes and acted like a tough guy, and there was me in my Toughskins and short hair and good grades. He tried to beat me up in front of my little sister, and I pinned him in about thirty seconds and bloodied his nose for him, and never had a problem with him again. In middle school was Mark Kerbo, another tough guy with his Satanic rock band shirts and long hair, Ozzy-scary, made the same mistake as Fuhr, assuming a skinny, nerdy kid like me would be an easy target. He followed me home taunting me the whole way, calling me a faggot, and I dropped my books kicked him in the balls, put him in a headlock, and rammed the top of his skull into a parked car. Dag Noble was my friend for a while. He had a terrible chip on his shoulder. His mom died when he was nine and it was a school legend how they called him out of class to tell him she was dead. He also would look for some weakling on whom to take out his rage. I can still see the look of surprise on his face when I punched him in the face after he pushed me. Kids are always pushing each other in the chest and daring each other, "Hit me. Come on. I dare ya. Hit me." I punch a guy in the face when he does that. Eddie Newbold wanted to fight me in the church parking lot. I pulled off his shoe and hit him with it. Later in life I graduated up to your drunken bar brawls.~~~~
What about Monday? Did I wake up at Shirelle's?
Peachtree's crashed out on the couch. The movie "Desperado" was a stylish, sexy, lame action pic. Today is actually Thursday, but I'm writing this where I should have written on Sunday if I wasn't such an undisciplined hack. Why didn't I just do this on Sunday before I got sucked into the Sunday Times? I could have been scribbling away all through the NFL. I'm sitting on the toilet. (More than you needed to know, eh?) Oakland beat Washington, Dallas over Denver (Boo hiss. They should put a dollar $ign on Neon Deion's helmet) Cleveland beat Tampa Bay; SF> ATL; PHI>AZ. So what? The Dodgers swept the Pirates. Don't we meet Leopold Bloom on the toilet? My pants are around my knees. What else? Shit. Literally. I've got to hurry through this. Ha. That, too. Grunt. There's no way I'll be able to get through these pages up to Thursday before I have to leave for work. I told my TA, Andres, I'd give him some story beginnings for his creative writing class. I especially meant "Cold". It's already a quarter to seven. The Artist's Way talks about managing and directing periods of anger and expecting periods of dormancy followed by growth spurts. I'm eating an apple now. I've actually been eating pretty healthily. Grapes, apples, fish, cereal, rice, broccoli, spinach, carrots, etc. It's a F*cking trip the way these computers will sabotage you. Ho tiddly de ho ho. I'm going to be late. Now it's seven o four. I'm waiting on a couple of copies of Jim Crack to print. This is only the bottom of page two. The Sunday "Calvin and Hobbes" showed Calvin imagining himself as a predatory allosaur or something fierce but not big enough to bring down an incredibly big, incredibly stupid brontosaur as he waited behind Moe, the class bully, at the water fountain. Everyone has their experiences with bullies, don't they? I don't remember any of mine being too pronounced. I recall maybe a half a dozen after-school fistfights. I was skinny, but I never got beat up, never quite got any respect either, but I never got beat up. My brother and I used to whale on each other everyday. I was so quiet and skinny, though, I don't think the bullies expected the kind of resistance I put up. The old man used to let us have it often enough, too, that I had a pretty high pain tolerance. I remember Paul Fuhr, who had 70's long hair, and wore OP clothes and acted like a tough guy, and there was me in my Toughskins and short hair and good grades. He tried to beat me up in front of my little sister, and I pinned him in about thirty seconds and bloodied his nose for him, and never had a problem with him again. In middle school was Mark Kerbo, another tough guy with his Satanic rock band shirts and long hair, Ozzy-scary, made the same mistake as Fuhr, assuming a skinny, nerdy kid like me would be an easy target. He followed me home taunting me the whole way, calling me a faggot, and I dropped my books kicked him in the balls, put him in a headlock, and rammed the top of his skull into a parked car. Dag Noble was my friend for a while. He had a terrible chip on his shoulder. His mom died when he was nine and it was a school legend how they called him out of class to tell him she was dead. He also would look for some weakling on whom to take out his rage. I can still see the look of surprise on his face when I punched him in the face after he pushed me. Kids are always pushing each other in the chest and daring each other, "Hit me. Come on. I dare ya. Hit me." I punch a guy in the face when he does that. Eddie Newbold wanted to fight me in the church parking lot. I pulled off his shoe and hit him with it. Later in life I graduated up to your drunken bar brawls.~~~~
What about Monday? Did I wake up at Shirelle's?
posted by johnz at 7:00 PM
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