I lied, obviously. There was nothing the next day, nothing the day after that, and the day after that . . . . . . why? well, I was waiting for that lightning bolt of inspiration - when a 100-Watt Halogen bulb goes off in my mind, burning the feck out of my synapses. The problem for me is: how can I make posts about my mundane life interesting, especially when I'm intimidated by the writings of familiars (did you check nemici's last post? - good shit. Keep 'em coming, blondie) And I came up with the solution - rage. It seems to be the driving force for so many blogs out there, so why can't it work for me? There seems to be plenty of it out there. Enough to go around.
And, boy, I've got lots of it polluting my veins, as an incident last week proved. A remarkable occurrence in my otherwise normal lower middle-class existence. I was sauntering through the centre of town on a day-off from work with my daughter in her buggy, feeling fatigued and a little pissed off. At a busy junction, I paused and waited for the green man. When he duly arrived, I began to cross the road as all traffic had paused, bar one cyclist. He kept on coming. Not, it must be noted, at high velocity (ok, he was crawling along), but he was still in motion. The wheel of his bike was about half a foot away from the buggy when I kicked out with my left foot, striking his wheel. But that wasn't the end of my act of aggression, oh no. It quickly escalated. I pushed him, then punched in the face, catching him on the jaw. He was obviously stunned - and angry. Very angry. He started to follow me on his bike, saying 'Come 'ere, I want to talk to you'. Of course, I didn't want to talk to him at this stage as I had now come to the realisation that this cat was a head (his threat to break a bottle over my head confirmed this). This was all taking place near lunchtime on a busy, busy thoroughfare with crowds jostling by us. But I wasn't aware of anyone else, of people gawking at us. As far as I could tell, no one was paying attention. Luckily for me, the cyclist gave up his chase (probably had to make a drop-off or something). I ducked into a place of sanctuary and carried on with my errands as if nothing had happened. But, for me, those few moments were extraordinary. Because, if truth be told, it wasn't a totally unpleasant experience. And that's what scares me more than anything else. Time for some anger management, methinks.
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5 comments:
I am astounded by this piece of script, if i didnt know you i would think it a piece of fiction. Its like a scene from "falling down", your worry about not having enough rage to fill your blog is frankly unfounded. I would worry though, that in a moment of anger that you would come across the wrong individual and that they would do an "untouchables" on you. You pull a knife, he pulls a gun, he ends up in the hospital and you end up in the morgue. I would try something like fight club maybe - i shall be the first to join.
I remember you.
ah the old courier punch! never fails to raise a smile.
hello would you sign for this please...........whack.......ouch.......your dead.
all couriers should wear petr cech style hats when big aido is in town
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