Posted: January 28, 2009
I have an intimate relationship with violence. My first memory of school is pulling a kid down of the monkey bars and smashing him. We moved around the country a lot when I was growing up and my Dad taught me to fight to prove myself to the locals. This usually worked as way to amass fear. Close friends, not so much.
My Dad is an intimidator, I became an intimidator.
I learned that I was very comfortable with emotional detachment.
I learned that I enjoyed pain, giving as much as receiving.
These lessons became a part of the core of my being. They translated and reinterpreted themselves in aspects of my entire life and personality, that is easily seen in my addictions and my overall taste for darkness. I rarely participate in physical violence anymore, unless it’s directed at myself. But I am always willing. The level of psychic violence and intimidation that I participate in daily, both outward and inward, is constant and has been for as long as I can remember.
I have a some friends(and a Wife)who are particularly gifted at violence. They are efficient ,skillful, and clean. I, at times, have been (oh yes…..oh… yes) but usually I am very messy. Once my fuse has been lit it’s chaos. Blood, Broken Glass, Chairs, More Blood, Car Tires, Bricks Bats and Bottles, Some Bleeding, Up, Down, Deep, Dark, Sticky, Nasty.
Bring a fucking lunch.
A couple of other things that I learned from my Dad is that it’s not over until I say it’s over and that I can never lose. Which means if you get the best of me that I will eventually get you(and I can wait…)one way or another, even and and almost exclusively this means that I will fuck myself over in the process. It doesn’t matter because at the root, this all about fucking myself up anyway. I fully realize this when I am not consumed by it but my ability to negotiate through rage is non existent.
I feel that this sole(soul)internal external experience and expression is responsible for so many of things that I have and don’t have in my life. It IS the fire inside me. It IS the destroyer. It is also the thing that makes me want to bring life and light to the world. At times it is a righteous gift but I feel at odds with it and it’s attachments. The baggage is enormous. In truth it is too much.
I feel blessed to be able to write about this and express myself through art and music. Somehow I have been able to get to this point. Many of friends that I grew up with expressed there life through violent death, either taking there own or someone else’s. I really, really miss them all.