Archives for July 2011

A friend described me as being consistent in my inconsistencies, a dichotomy of personalities. I can switch gears very quickly. I go from play to business and back to play in just a moment. Call it moody, call it cranky or just call me a curmudgeon. It doesn’t matter. The reality is that I am who I am and the quiet passivity you sometimes see masks the man who will rip off of your head and kick it into the street.

Do you remember when the banking industry introduced ATMs. The automatic teller was a wondrous convenience. No longer would you have to go inside the bank and wait in line for your money. Suddenly it was a two minute procedure and the height of convenience.

Unfortunately the convenience for some became a siren call for malfeasance. You no longer visited certain ATMs because there was no interest in having to pass along your hard earned cash to some low life. At least that is how some people looked at things, there were those others who considered themselves to be bullet proof.

I was one of them. A twenty-something man who feared no one. In the prime of my life I hadn’t any reason to be concerned. Bruises, strains, and bumps were momentary inconveniences. No real responsibilities meant that I had ample time to spend in the gym. My body was taut and toned. My cardiovascular system had never been despoiled by smoking.

When you took that hard body and screwed on my hard head it made for aninteresting combination of young, dumb and stupid. I went where I pleased because I knew that anyone who made the mistake of accosting me would find themselves in dire need of a visit to a chiropractor.

My youthful naivete is really what saved me. When I felt that gun against my temple I wasn’t smart enough to be afraid. The thought of dying didn’t even register. No, what did was irritation followed by extreme anger. What the fuck did this asshole think he was doing. Not only was I not going to give him any money, I was going to take that gun and shove it so far up his ass he didn’t dare belch for fear of blowing away his lips.

Things didn’t exactly work out the way either of us planned. As I turned to face him he used the butt of the gun on the side of my head. At least, I think that is what happened. I am not really sure, but I do know that I was surprised to find myself on the ground.

I am sure that he was even more surprised when I responded by using my right hand to try and turn him into a modern day eunuch.

Together we rolled around the ground. Each one of us fighting to gain the advantage on the other. Something hard kept slamming into my kidneys. Each time I felt pain shooting inside me, but I refused to let go of him. I could hear someone screaming in anger, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I was too busy trying to separate his arm from his shoulder.

The scuffle felt like it took hours, but the tape from the ATM showed it wasn’t more than five minutes. It even showed the swing I took at the police officers who tried to break up the fight. Note to self, it is not wise to hit a cop because they will respond.

The justice system in this country is funny and not in the “I can’t stop laughing sense.” When it was all said and done I looked like I had driven my car over the side of Laurel Canyon and he was comatose. The D.A. said that it was self-defense and that I wouldn’t have to worry about it, but his family claimed otherwise and filed a multimillion dollar civil case against me.

That was seven years and more than $1 million in legal fees ago. The story is not nearly done. It is not over by a long shot. His mother has sworn to see me “go down hard” and she has the money to pursue this.

Maybe I should have handled this differently. We don’t always see how the actions we take in our youth can follow us into the future. But you cannot screw an old head on young shoulders and life is what it is.

What can I tell you, he put a gun to my head.

(One of my short/long term goals is to write several books and perhaps some screenplays. The post above is part of what I identify as a Fragment of Fiction. You’ll notice that I often recycle them. There are several purposes in doing so. The first is because I use the blog as my cybersandbox and I find that working with them again provides new ideas and opportunities to strengthen the post. It also stimulates my imagination and helps me to push ahead with new ideas.)

 

“No one knows what it’s like to be the bad man
To be the sad man behind blue eyes
No one knows what it’s like
To be hated, to be fated to telling only lies

But my dreams, they aren’t as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance that’s never free”

Behind Blue Eyes- The Who
Dear June,

It is the middle of the summer and I can’t decide if I am falling and or failing. A thousand years ago in the time that once was I told you that I wander among the storms and ride the tornado. I stand in front of the hurricane searching for the eye of the storm and wonder how it is that I haven’t been blown away. Can’t say if it is force of will, stupidity or dumb luck but somehow I find my way. Though I am battered and bruised I continue to work to master it all and earn the title of lightning lord.

It is goofy and melodramatic, but that is me. That fire in my belly burns ever so brightly and no matter what happen it never….burns out. Sometimes I wonder if this is some sort of punishment for things that once happened. Sometimes I wonder if I am forced into this indentured servitude to the cruelest of masters because it is penance for my sins.

I climb the mountains that have been placed before me because I have no choice. I cannot stay where I am. John Henry beat the machine but he died with his hammer in his hand. That is not the sort of glory I seek nor do I believe it to be something that will be granted nor given to me. There is no more safety nor sustenance to be found here so I must climb.

“No one knows what it’s like
To feel these feelings like I do and I blame you!
No one bites back as hard on their anger
None of my pain and woe can show through

But my dreams, they aren’t as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours only lonely
My love is vengeance, that’s never free”

There are so many tales to be told and things to be shared but you aren’t here so I have secured them in our secret garden. They wander through the verdant fields and dance on the hillsides of the places we once roamed.  Protected by the guardians I no longer give them thought and I focus upon that which lies before me.

Clearly the biggest challenge that has ever presented itself stands before me. I have spent more than a few hours studying it and hope that my research presents opportunity and I can prepare a plan of attack. But I feel the fire and the fury coming from within. The demons that hide in the darkness have broken their chains and it won’t be long before they make their way to the surface. I hear them laughing and sense their joy. Freedom calls and they shall answer.

“When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool

And If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
And If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat”

My arms and legs are covered in scrapes and bruises. Though I make good time the mountain refuses to let me go without paying a price. We continue to fight over the toll it wishes to take. There is joy in the simplicity of the battle and I take pleasure in the simplicity of choices that are presented.  I am confident that I will prevail and that I will find my way to the other side. The sole question is what will I find when I reach it.

“No one knows what it’s like to be the bad man
To be the sad man behind blue eyes“