Log in

No account? Create an account
30 July 2007 @ 03:09 am
I bought the book version of Fight Club (it was a book?) for the plane rides to and from home earlier this month. I successfully read the introduction, followed by the first two chapters, leaving me on page 14 of the 200 page novel. Since I returned on Thursday, I'm up to page 183 as a raunchy fart wafts through my nostrils.

What does this mean for me? Well, I can read when I want to, and that doesn't necessarily start and stop exclusively on the shitter.

I got to smoke some grass last night with ... people who may or may not want that information shared in this forum. Did you ever notice that eating upon achieving the Munchies portion of the high is quite similar to breaking your Urine seal after drinking a few pints of lager? Two fudge cicles, ten oatmeal cookies, three scoops of Baskin Robbins cherry flavored ice cream later and I was still contemplating gnawing my hand off.

It rained most of the day today and it ain't getting any cooler out. I'm looking forward to watching the Simpsons movie tomorrow and then working out at the gym just so I can wallow in some air conditioning.

So, I was thinking about the concept of fighting and my personal stance on the whole thing. Fisticuffs. Matching wits with Fire and Ice. The Great Communicator. Tellin' somebody with two black eyes you done told 'em twice! Like a lot of my far-out schemes, I hold the position of "I Think I Can." If worse came to worse, or worst to worst, or however you're supposed to write the cliche, I think I COULD rumble in the Bronx.

My main problem with the whole thing isn't worrying about getting my ass kicked - I KNOW I'd get my ass kicked. Really, I've got two things hindering me, the first of which being my brain trying to decipher the positive effects of what my fighting would achieve vs. the pain and suffering - both emotional and physical - I'd endure should my opponent NOT be a 12 year old girl. I've never run across a circumstance where I thought my honor was threatened; perhaps that's because I don't live in 13th Century Europe or in a Back To The Future movie. If I was mugged, I probably wouldn't give a damn with whatever loose change I had jingling around my pockets. And, since my life so far hasn't been a Broadway musical, I haven't had the opportunity to defend a friend against a thuggish detractor. The closest I've ever been to a real fight was when my old friend Nathan from middle school beat up some nerd on the football field at 3pm, and even then I was one of those goons who ran around yelling, "FIGHT! FIGHT!" trying to get the biggest crowd possible see the kid who had 30 pounds on the other kid beat his bollocks in. Every other time, it's pretty much been me as Peacemaker.

It's really true what they say: most people will do anything to avoid getting into a fight. Most people will put up with more crap than they should, they'll let things slide, they'll bury it deep within themselves, until finally it comes roaring back out in an avalanche of fury or they die. However, there can be dire consequences if you swing the other way, which relates to my second reason for why I don't get in fights. You never know when somebody's packin' something more than just fists. If I was in the wrong kind of mood where the world was just pissing the fuck out of me at that exact moment and someone came up from behind and said, "Give me your wallet," I might size him up and try to take him if I could. But, if he's got some knife tucked into the side of his shoe or a gun in his waistband behind his back, I'm fucked. Because I don't pack heat (I smuggle plums). And, in that sense, it's pretty fucking stupid to even think about fighting.

Because there's no honor anymore. We're a world of cheating liars who'll do anything to get ahead. The sporting world has it, the artistic world has it, the corporate world has it, the fucking non-profit organizations have it. No honor. And with something so pure, so primal, so instinctive as fighting, if there's no honor in that, then there's no honor in any damn thing.
Current Mood: Undeclared
Current Music: The Dandy Warhols - Solid