Saturday, June 19, 2010

I feel

like doing something violent. Nothing to hurt anyone or myself, just something that I can tell has an obvious change caused by me. I would love to find a broken TV set on the sidewalk, take it into the park and destroy it. I wouldn’t really be destroying it since it didn’t work already, but I want to see something break. I am stagnant, I am docile and I am bored. This is a bad combination as I feel I am going to explode. My thoughts don’t know where to go. They are forming an angry mob in my head. They are ready to rush to my fists and smash, to my legs and kick. I guess I wouldn’t really mind getting in a fight right now. Never been in one, so I don’t know how to talk myself out of one yet. I have been very physical lately. Maybe I want to go dancing. I want to move without running. I want to smile while falling down and getting back up. I want things to have changed after I pass. I want more than the slight erosion my sneakers caused on the pavement. I want to see a bad man pay. I want him to learn a lesson. I am a teacher. Hell maybe, I want to learn a lesson as well. Do you ever feel like your shoulders are going to detach and your arms will fly away, leaving you with your mouth open as you fist smash the windows behind to you to escape? I think about that sometimes. I don’t know where it comes from. I am not a violent person. But I am human. Humans have been through violence. Don’t say we created it though. Just take a look at claws, horns spikes… We are in the wild kingdom, be it in my small apartment bedroom, the jungles of Africa, your penthouse apartment. Kill, fight, win, struggle. My mentality is this. We have these wonderful machines that are here to provide that we survive in the future. We need to use them or just like knives get rusty, they will no longer serve a purpose. Computers, TV’s are great but the outdoors, where we contact threats, that is where we get our thrills. It’s like sex. If we didn’t enjoy it so god dam much we wouldn't do it over and over again. There would be no sports. We would be fat blobs who were eaten before our first sentences were uttered. I just saw myself in a loincloth punching a tiger. Shut up PETA. No I am behind a drum kit hitting the cowhide. I am jumping over cliffs and diving into the water. My shirt is off and I scream as being chased or I run, chasing. It is making extremities numb with something to hold, pound, thrust or throw. I want my fist to smash glass. I want a microphone thrown into a speaker. I want to feel a punch in the ribs. I think that this aggression is healthy. I am not targeting humans, people, a symbol of my parents, boss, ex, or anything else psychoanalysts would tell my rage is really about. I could be the happiest man in a mosh pit right now. I don’t do and a not on drugs. I am just being a human, a human as an animal. I don’t think rage is the right word. There is this force that is trying to escape from my physical being, but I don’t know how to release it. I thought pounding on these keys would help, but as I rock back and forth to the song playing at full volume I feel this force growing, the atoms of it are multiplying. Worry not, for there is not bridge close enough for me to jump of and feel that thrill of smashing the water. Felling my body collapse. I still won’t fight any tigers because I am too far from the zoo. Violence is not the right word. Violence is a choice or something, how you react. I have nothing to react to, I just want to act. I want the bass drum note I am hearing in my head to be footsteps or the impacts of my fist into …something. I am a dangerous caged animal with rational thought and non-sociopathic tendencies. What do I do with this? I am sweating thinking about it. I am smiling as I slam dance and rip my shirt off. I laugh as I chop down a tree and hear the crash. I throw that fucking TV off of a cliff, watch it smash, glass flies, NOISE is made. No one wants to make noise. Shhhhhhhh I do this, all day long, let me Yawlp. Let me stand next to an 800-pound gorilla and scream. Let me charge into a justified battle with a spear, or an axe. Let me see fire, let me see revolution in the streets. I want to run down the oppressors and do it because I am human. Because I am an animal and that is what animals do. When something is wrong they fight. Let me fight; just tell me what’s wrong. God I wish I could fly. I need to climb a tree ride a bicycle down one of these hills. I need to walk across coals. I need to run from the cops. I need to do all these things at once. I want to swordfight. I want to parry and thrust. I want to explode, and it’s all out of a strange mixture of joy and boredom.


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