Desdichado. Афигеть!
Jun. 8th, 2007 04:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
taibaЕдинственная запись в журнале.
Saturday, January 3rd, 2004
1:37 am
Just finished reading her blogs. I have read so much into the workings of her mind, now to let her into mine.
"Society gets on my tits!" this I have felt from the moment I understood that I was an entity unto my own; seperate from family, friends, and society at large. You know, the first time you felt the fire inside, a volcanic force so overwhelming that the only outlets are either to kill some thing or somebody or to ejaculate. Like most, I ejaculated. (I have killed various animals before this time, of course, ie the lightings of mice, the hangings of cats, the head-rippings of birds and so on, but only out of good humour and not as a release).
I was born a good kid. Really. Until the little things crept in to shape my thoughts. The earliest episode, I can remember is: Like all cute little kiddies, at about 4-5 years of age, I had a best buddy, A (for alpha). I would have done anything for A. The kid fucked up. Hang on. Let's go back a little.
We grew up in a fairly heated town, freshly ravaged from the VN-American war. Gangs were fighting for territory (to my personal knowledge, at least one of my brothers was a member), people were making money whatever way they can. In short, the town was a real riot where one shouldn't get out of doors after 8pm. All kids were gungho and being tough meant survival. Had to be that way. At least that's how little boys saw it.
Anyhow, somehow it had come to pass that the issue of "who was 'tougher'? me or A?" was under contention. The only way to find out was to fight each other. I refused to fight. A started off with an old street dirt, throw something at your opponent (in this case, a bicycle seat) and lay into him whilst he's distracted. A laid into me. I lost my head. The next thing I remember was people were tearing me off A, whose face was pulped. They tell me afterwards that I went berserk. Not angry. Berserk. After knocking him to the ground, I was kicking his head in. Over and over. Not his ribs. His head. Poor kid. Just wanted to be macho.
Might seem like a small incident at the time, but it made me think about myself and those around me. Firstly, if I was willing to do almost anything for someone, surely, that someone must feel the same. If not out of friendship, then out of simple principle? Secondly, where was my head?
Saturday, January 3rd, 2004
1:37 am
Just So You Know
Just finished reading her blogs. I have read so much into the workings of her mind, now to let her into mine.
"Society gets on my tits!" this I have felt from the moment I understood that I was an entity unto my own; seperate from family, friends, and society at large. You know, the first time you felt the fire inside, a volcanic force so overwhelming that the only outlets are either to kill some thing or somebody or to ejaculate. Like most, I ejaculated. (I have killed various animals before this time, of course, ie the lightings of mice, the hangings of cats, the head-rippings of birds and so on, but only out of good humour and not as a release).
I was born a good kid. Really. Until the little things crept in to shape my thoughts. The earliest episode, I can remember is: Like all cute little kiddies, at about 4-5 years of age, I had a best buddy, A (for alpha). I would have done anything for A. The kid fucked up. Hang on. Let's go back a little.
We grew up in a fairly heated town, freshly ravaged from the VN-American war. Gangs were fighting for territory (to my personal knowledge, at least one of my brothers was a member), people were making money whatever way they can. In short, the town was a real riot where one shouldn't get out of doors after 8pm. All kids were gungho and being tough meant survival. Had to be that way. At least that's how little boys saw it.
Anyhow, somehow it had come to pass that the issue of "who was 'tougher'? me or A?" was under contention. The only way to find out was to fight each other. I refused to fight. A started off with an old street dirt, throw something at your opponent (in this case, a bicycle seat) and lay into him whilst he's distracted. A laid into me. I lost my head. The next thing I remember was people were tearing me off A, whose face was pulped. They tell me afterwards that I went berserk. Not angry. Berserk. After knocking him to the ground, I was kicking his head in. Over and over. Not his ribs. His head. Poor kid. Just wanted to be macho.
Might seem like a small incident at the time, but it made me think about myself and those around me. Firstly, if I was willing to do almost anything for someone, surely, that someone must feel the same. If not out of friendship, then out of simple principle? Secondly, where was my head?
