"cute face, gorgeous titties: two things i thought i'd never come to hate"
i had a strange night here, friends. many people i did not recognize kept calling me columbo. i was columbo and drunk last halloween. that was six months ago. last night a parrot bit the shit out of my finger at a cigar bar. i was drinking and i ate some pills, because i don't smoke cigars. i despaired last night, friends. i've tried several times to make friends with these people of sioux falls. i'm starting to feel like bill murray in "lost in translation". for the record i don't do pills anymore, i don't smoke cigarettes anymore, and i don't drink anywhere near as often as i once did. but last night. i needed a break. bettering one's self is hard tedious work, and not for those with weak constitutions. it finally got to me, so i took the night off. i also planned to write the next intallment of this blog yesterday, which i did. and we'll get to it soon enough. after i apologize for it. it went really long. i've split it up into three parts. so i guess now i'm doing a series in a series. i might as well. no one asked, or cares that i do this at all, and i'm doing this for no one. what's the difference in a quick paragraph or my life story, except for how much time i'm willing to spend in one sitting spilling my guts under that rediculous blue banner that reads that rediculous word, blogger? and spill my guts i did with this installment. i reccomend to no one that they do any of the things i have done. which should work out as no one is reading this. enjoy nonetheless.
jody
ps: this is too long, i'm going back and editing for grammar and what not. i did a once over for content. if you see mistaks just give me the benefit of the doubt. actually, always give me the benefit of the doubt.
4
"cute face, gorgeous titties: two things i thought i'd never come to hate"
part one: dui's, redheads, god, and me in the middle
The oddest thing about being an even-keeled male and hitting a woman are the circumstances surrounding the event. For one, you never in your life imagined that one day you would be guilty of this. You're against it. For the most part you remain morally ambiguous, you're not evil you're just an oppurtunist who understands good and evil can be, for the most part, fleeting; fluxuating moral trends. But you are fully aware of right and wrong, and therefore hold yourself accountable for your actions. Emotional involvement with these actions just isn't always necassary. In fact it can retard or pervert the good and fuel the evil. But you do have principles. You do not murder anyone. You ignore starting or participating in physical fights with strangers. You never risk friends' well being or friendships. You try to keep all pain and heartache isolated to just yourself. However, due to innumerable reasons beyond your control, if you are the least bit social you will fail at this plenty of times and in disheartening consistency. Though it helps, you do not need your father to have beaten your mother, nor do you really need to consider that all your female friends have in some way been abused by a male or males in their lives, but you know like you know the sun is hot without ever touching it that you do not hit a woman. Unless, of course, they ask for it.
My first act of physical aggression towards a female was with my first girlfriend. I was fifteen, so was she. (her boyfriend before me dragged her from her parents' living room by her hair to her bed and forced her to lay there while he ate her out. this is disturbing anyway, but the fact that his actions didn't lead to pleasuring himself is disturbing and odd.) We were wrestling. She got carried away. I firmly believe she did not intend for so much pain, but nevertheless she had me in a faux pin (i out weighed her by many pounds, it was faux) and came to my face for what I thought was a kiss. Instead she bit my nose hard, very, very hard. She was unaware of the signals a lot of pain in your nose emitts, nor did she know that those signals do not go to your brain, but to a baser part of your neural system. And while your mind reels at the pain in face, for it knows you're just lying there, your arms have thrown your girlfriend clear across the living room. She was a cheerleader and breaking falls came second nature to her. She was unharmed, and since it all happened in an instant she thought we were still playing. That is until I got up with tears in my eyes and "Gawd, why'd you do that?" After that it was all hugs and kisses, and poor, poor, me.
The first time I actually hit a woman was only a couple of years ago, just before I moved to New Orleans. The cute little redheaded girl I wrote about earlier, the one who wired me money to come back home to Georgia, to her (supposedly); it was she I hit (she at one point before she met me had been slipped roofies by an aquaintance, who then had his way with her. later he told her that he heard saying no, but understood her vibes to be saying yes.) Not only did I hit her, i back-handed her. We were drunk adn rowdy, and come from the best redneck bar ever, MudCats. Emotions were high because on the way home we were wasted and swerving, endangering our lives and the lives of everyone on the road. We got pulled over by two police cars. We should've been fucked, and we deserved to be. We always drove not just drunk but obliterated. Despite the fact that I could not hold a thought in my head, let alone speak it, I got out of the well earned DUI with a bobby-pin and a clove cigarette. I was the drunken union of Hunter Thompson and McGyver made carnate. After that the redhead and I had religion. We were holy, and untouchable. Arriving home with such highs, and still quite drunk,we got into some light wrestling. It has all the makings of turning into good rough sex, and I believe that was our intention, but something wouldn't let it make the transition. We just got rougher and meaner. We were fighting, not with punches or kicks, nor was there a word spoken, but we were rough-housing with malice and cruelty. I felt uncomfortable, but I couldn't stop and nor would she. I wanted to win. Then when I locked her in a real pin I somehow wound up with my head near her face. She bit the fuck out of my ear. Again signals were sent as my brain processed all the pain. When its intensity let up I saw the redhead was no longer beneath me on the bed. She was rising from the floor at the footboard, stunned. With everything over my body relayed its memory to my brain. In one motion I jerked my ear from her gnashing teeth, which hurt like a motherfucker, brought myself to my knees and back-handed the shit out of her and tossed her off the bed.
Of course I did not mean for this. Of course I would've conceded the little wrestling match had I saw this coming. I felt fucking terrible. I saw the enevitable accusations, and me confirming them. I saw the loss of respect from my friends followed by the loss of my friends. The cute little redheaded girl collected herself. She turned to me, "You just fucking hit me."
I couldn't face her. I said I'm sorry a couple of times very flatly. Not from apathy, obviously, but from shock. I was overwhelmed. I left the room. Not to run away or hide, but despite my desire to cowar I moved to a room more neutral, the spare bedroom-a room where I didn't hit anyone, and slumped on the bed. I didn't need her to judge me. I could do that on my own, nor would I discount her judgement either. I did, however, desire a sentencing from her. And no sentence would have been unfair. There are mistakes you can not walk away from. You know the difference between right and wrong. You hold yourself accountable for you actions. She came into the room. I stopped crying. I felt like I shouldn't get to, you know? She was cloaked in a blanket from my bed. She pushed me onto the bed, laid on me wrapping us into the blanket. It was hugs and kisses and poor, poor me.
The redhead and me had many problems, but our love for or our understanding of one another was not one of them. Just when you thought love wasn't enough to make a relationship work... it actually isn't, because after I got back, the day after I got back from New Orleans, she did something dispicable and I turned my back on her and didn't speak to her for a year. That said...
I'm grateful as a writer, or that part of me that seeks to understand as much human experience as I can, to every woman and whatever God. An unspoken principle between the cute little redhead and myself was that bodies were junk; everything was made to break. We ran on entropy, we chose to destroy and breakdown rather than be slave to time or human fallacy. We built us, we broke us. I was such an idiot back then, I'm so glad for it now.
Our lives, how we build them, are a mandala. You create them to your satisfaction, and whim, then admire them, and finally wipe them away. And begin again. Accidents along the way, miracles, mistakes, good fortune or fate: I know the difference seperating them all, but I can not for the life of me see it.
The avoided DUI showed me that if there is a God, He sure does love a fool. The redhead, and many others have taught me that a woman can do the same. The redhead and I are now great friends, the eleven hundred miles between us helps, despite even worse events, accidents, mistakes, and miracles. If you decide to call it fate, call it wreckless fate.
I do not mean to come aawy from this as: I hit a girl and it was OK. It wasn't OK. I was not let off the hook or otherwise overlooked. I was forgiven. And only in that way do I consider myself lucky. This, though unlike (and just like), the DUI was one of many instances in my life where I had the oppurtunity to experience one of the many facets of life. Some are good and some are evil, this one being very dark and awful, and I got walk away from it, not exactly with impunity, but without life destroying consequences that are often attached and often deserved. We'll call it mercy.
And as I move and stumble through this life and the streets of sioux falls where I'm attacked by birds and applauded as Columbo by strangers (think being famous in japan) and with idiot hands build my current mandala and try in my way to piece all this together to decide where I invest my love and faith, which I find the more unwieldy of the two, and not just where these these two things lie-whether it be with some God, or woman, or whatever and it all in general and even with myelf, not only whether love or faith exists in me, but how much do I reserve, and how much do I give, and to whom or what...?
As I naively try to grasp these simple concepts for myself I am able to be showered with hugs and kisses, to breath the free air, to not be locked up in a cage, because those of whom, all of them, regardless of if I believe in all of them or not, that I mentioned above have simply and unasked for already and easily gave me their love and faith. I have never gotten away with anything. And when I take all this for granted, as I am oft to do, it is because these good, good beings let me.
And trust me when I say this will eventually connect to the girl with the cute face and the gorgeous tits that I came to hate.
jody
ps: this is too long, i'm going back and editing for grammar and what not. i did a once over for content. if you see mistaks just give me the benefit of the doubt. actually, always give me the benefit of the doubt.
4
"cute face, gorgeous titties: two things i thought i'd never come to hate"
part one: dui's, redheads, god, and me in the middle
The oddest thing about being an even-keeled male and hitting a woman are the circumstances surrounding the event. For one, you never in your life imagined that one day you would be guilty of this. You're against it. For the most part you remain morally ambiguous, you're not evil you're just an oppurtunist who understands good and evil can be, for the most part, fleeting; fluxuating moral trends. But you are fully aware of right and wrong, and therefore hold yourself accountable for your actions. Emotional involvement with these actions just isn't always necassary. In fact it can retard or pervert the good and fuel the evil. But you do have principles. You do not murder anyone. You ignore starting or participating in physical fights with strangers. You never risk friends' well being or friendships. You try to keep all pain and heartache isolated to just yourself. However, due to innumerable reasons beyond your control, if you are the least bit social you will fail at this plenty of times and in disheartening consistency. Though it helps, you do not need your father to have beaten your mother, nor do you really need to consider that all your female friends have in some way been abused by a male or males in their lives, but you know like you know the sun is hot without ever touching it that you do not hit a woman. Unless, of course, they ask for it.
My first act of physical aggression towards a female was with my first girlfriend. I was fifteen, so was she. (her boyfriend before me dragged her from her parents' living room by her hair to her bed and forced her to lay there while he ate her out. this is disturbing anyway, but the fact that his actions didn't lead to pleasuring himself is disturbing and odd.) We were wrestling. She got carried away. I firmly believe she did not intend for so much pain, but nevertheless she had me in a faux pin (i out weighed her by many pounds, it was faux) and came to my face for what I thought was a kiss. Instead she bit my nose hard, very, very hard. She was unaware of the signals a lot of pain in your nose emitts, nor did she know that those signals do not go to your brain, but to a baser part of your neural system. And while your mind reels at the pain in face, for it knows you're just lying there, your arms have thrown your girlfriend clear across the living room. She was a cheerleader and breaking falls came second nature to her. She was unharmed, and since it all happened in an instant she thought we were still playing. That is until I got up with tears in my eyes and "Gawd, why'd you do that?" After that it was all hugs and kisses, and poor, poor, me.
The first time I actually hit a woman was only a couple of years ago, just before I moved to New Orleans. The cute little redheaded girl I wrote about earlier, the one who wired me money to come back home to Georgia, to her (supposedly); it was she I hit (she at one point before she met me had been slipped roofies by an aquaintance, who then had his way with her. later he told her that he heard saying no, but understood her vibes to be saying yes.) Not only did I hit her, i back-handed her. We were drunk adn rowdy, and come from the best redneck bar ever, MudCats. Emotions were high because on the way home we were wasted and swerving, endangering our lives and the lives of everyone on the road. We got pulled over by two police cars. We should've been fucked, and we deserved to be. We always drove not just drunk but obliterated. Despite the fact that I could not hold a thought in my head, let alone speak it, I got out of the well earned DUI with a bobby-pin and a clove cigarette. I was the drunken union of Hunter Thompson and McGyver made carnate. After that the redhead and I had religion. We were holy, and untouchable. Arriving home with such highs, and still quite drunk,we got into some light wrestling. It has all the makings of turning into good rough sex, and I believe that was our intention, but something wouldn't let it make the transition. We just got rougher and meaner. We were fighting, not with punches or kicks, nor was there a word spoken, but we were rough-housing with malice and cruelty. I felt uncomfortable, but I couldn't stop and nor would she. I wanted to win. Then when I locked her in a real pin I somehow wound up with my head near her face. She bit the fuck out of my ear. Again signals were sent as my brain processed all the pain. When its intensity let up I saw the redhead was no longer beneath me on the bed. She was rising from the floor at the footboard, stunned. With everything over my body relayed its memory to my brain. In one motion I jerked my ear from her gnashing teeth, which hurt like a motherfucker, brought myself to my knees and back-handed the shit out of her and tossed her off the bed.
Of course I did not mean for this. Of course I would've conceded the little wrestling match had I saw this coming. I felt fucking terrible. I saw the enevitable accusations, and me confirming them. I saw the loss of respect from my friends followed by the loss of my friends. The cute little redheaded girl collected herself. She turned to me, "You just fucking hit me."
I couldn't face her. I said I'm sorry a couple of times very flatly. Not from apathy, obviously, but from shock. I was overwhelmed. I left the room. Not to run away or hide, but despite my desire to cowar I moved to a room more neutral, the spare bedroom-a room where I didn't hit anyone, and slumped on the bed. I didn't need her to judge me. I could do that on my own, nor would I discount her judgement either. I did, however, desire a sentencing from her. And no sentence would have been unfair. There are mistakes you can not walk away from. You know the difference between right and wrong. You hold yourself accountable for you actions. She came into the room. I stopped crying. I felt like I shouldn't get to, you know? She was cloaked in a blanket from my bed. She pushed me onto the bed, laid on me wrapping us into the blanket. It was hugs and kisses and poor, poor me.
The redhead and me had many problems, but our love for or our understanding of one another was not one of them. Just when you thought love wasn't enough to make a relationship work... it actually isn't, because after I got back, the day after I got back from New Orleans, she did something dispicable and I turned my back on her and didn't speak to her for a year. That said...
I'm grateful as a writer, or that part of me that seeks to understand as much human experience as I can, to every woman and whatever God. An unspoken principle between the cute little redhead and myself was that bodies were junk; everything was made to break. We ran on entropy, we chose to destroy and breakdown rather than be slave to time or human fallacy. We built us, we broke us. I was such an idiot back then, I'm so glad for it now.
Our lives, how we build them, are a mandala. You create them to your satisfaction, and whim, then admire them, and finally wipe them away. And begin again. Accidents along the way, miracles, mistakes, good fortune or fate: I know the difference seperating them all, but I can not for the life of me see it.
The avoided DUI showed me that if there is a God, He sure does love a fool. The redhead, and many others have taught me that a woman can do the same. The redhead and I are now great friends, the eleven hundred miles between us helps, despite even worse events, accidents, mistakes, and miracles. If you decide to call it fate, call it wreckless fate.
I do not mean to come aawy from this as: I hit a girl and it was OK. It wasn't OK. I was not let off the hook or otherwise overlooked. I was forgiven. And only in that way do I consider myself lucky. This, though unlike (and just like), the DUI was one of many instances in my life where I had the oppurtunity to experience one of the many facets of life. Some are good and some are evil, this one being very dark and awful, and I got walk away from it, not exactly with impunity, but without life destroying consequences that are often attached and often deserved. We'll call it mercy.
And as I move and stumble through this life and the streets of sioux falls where I'm attacked by birds and applauded as Columbo by strangers (think being famous in japan) and with idiot hands build my current mandala and try in my way to piece all this together to decide where I invest my love and faith, which I find the more unwieldy of the two, and not just where these these two things lie-whether it be with some God, or woman, or whatever and it all in general and even with myelf, not only whether love or faith exists in me, but how much do I reserve, and how much do I give, and to whom or what...?
As I naively try to grasp these simple concepts for myself I am able to be showered with hugs and kisses, to breath the free air, to not be locked up in a cage, because those of whom, all of them, regardless of if I believe in all of them or not, that I mentioned above have simply and unasked for already and easily gave me their love and faith. I have never gotten away with anything. And when I take all this for granted, as I am oft to do, it is because these good, good beings let me.
And trust me when I say this will eventually connect to the girl with the cute face and the gorgeous tits that I came to hate.
tune in next week for:
"cute face, gorgeous titties: two things I thought I would never come to hate"
part 2: "and there is this other girl I smacked up real good.
posted by pacoblue at 9:54 PM
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