Can't really bring myself to study. I have several issues or impediments all of which would see me do anything but study. My new puppy Sam peed all over my notes so then I was stuck sitting on my hard ass chair in my room with my nose tucked under the collar of my t-shirt, my neck all sore with my head was tilted down and my shoulders hunched up. Also, I aced the fuck out of an exam last night with out even studying, I was actually insulted by how easy it was and felt it was a waste of time. A couple of times I contemplated skipping questions out of protest due to their poor grammar. I know I'm not a grammar whiz as my readers have so graciously pointed out but I can recognize a double negative when I see one.
I'm also supposed to move today and can't find a van. My poor friend has been stuck holding on to my big ass mattress for two months now and I should probably move it from her living room. I don't particularly feel like doing that either. It seems motivation is a problem all around these days. Maybe it's not sunny enough, or maybe I don't see the direct correlation between effective study habits and a successful life. For some reason I expect this blog and it's stupid entries about monsters to be more vital to my future than a degree. Like this is work experience to put on my resume cuz I'm gonna apply for a job as a ghost buster or something.
In any event I cant focus for 2 seconds and the Ginko Biloba isn't helping. So according to my text book Arabs smell like dog pee and Nasser was made famous by invented Youtube as a way of sending subliminal messages to his Bedouin clone army.
This is gonna be a sweet exam!
Man eff my stupid town!
So I'm totally pissed! Each year this weekend, the youth of my home town descend upon a dead-end road terminating in a marsh to raise the dead. Years ago at the end of a spooky winding road some dude drove off the end of the road on his motorcycle and killed himself. So now as a sort of annual pilgramage/rite of passage thing a group of dumb kids hop in their cars and go down to the end of this road at midnight and flash their high beams into the marsh. Then this whole supernatural shit goes down and some bored ass and lonely ghost appears on his bike, does a few burnouts and freaks out the whole town.
Well as the worlds' foremost expert on the paranormal, I'm typically invited to preside over the whole event. Well it turns out this year that the subcommittee of ghost affairs have decided to go with a different Chancellor of Undead Revelry. This being an election year this dumb ass municipal councillors are trying to garner favour with an emerging interest group.
As a member of the subcommittee of ghost affairs I was a vocal opponent to the appointment of the new Chancellor of Undead Revelry. Unfortunately I didn't have enough support in committee to vote down the motion, thanks to a tricky procedural move by Mayor Jonkman that required a super majority of ¾ to defeat any recommendation from the department of culture. Well guess who's an employee of the department of culture? None other than the brother of the new Chancellor of Undead Revelry who just bought property from the mayor at a steep discount. Who, btw, also represents a large business consortium which just moved into town. So now we're stuck with this 2 bit hack who's doesn't know shit about the particular local dynamic that makes this event so fun and meaningful.
The patronage and corruption makes me sick. Now I'm stuck playing with my balls when I should be out there preparing for the paranormal event of the year! Bullshit!
This is about my puppy
With 4 days left on the farm before getting my own apartment I'm getting pensive.
Yesterday I took my new puppy Sam out for a walk. He's the greatest addition to our family ever (sorry little bro') He replaced a huge void in our hearts after our ADHD afflicted boxer Sid was dog napped. It was an episode that griped the entire town, making it into the local paper twice. And not just a classified ad, but full-on 500 word stories complete with interviews, pictures and stirring narrative on how distraught we all were. Girls cried when they ran into my Dad at the grocery store and he answered that Sid had not yet been found. Just the other day an elderly lady come to my door to canvass for the municipal elections and inquired if we ever found him, and this is 6 months afterwards.
So anyways, as Sam and I made our way through the tall grass, chasing bugs and sneezing into dying flowers, we stumbled into a flock of birds in the field. They rose, hundreds of them, into the air with a terrifying noise. The sky resembled static as light would sneak between body and beating wing momentarily before being concealed and displayed again. A dizzying sight as they all, in loose formation, made a wide circle around the field before landing en mass again. They repeated this routine over and over for about 10 mins, and by the end they were a perfect square, not a bird out of place, all making precise corners and turning in unison. They were practising for their long migration, and Sam and I watched as they perfected their choreographed movements.
Sam and I have wonderful adventures, I can picture him going back to the house and telling our cats how he stood up to 1000 birds. One would yawn the other would purr its curiosity (after only a week of Sam being here Rovan already looks up to him). Cranky on the other hand doesn't realize just how big he'll get and she still thinks she's the boss. She'll be pissed when she gets exiled to Grandma's house for not trying to make friends.
Sam's learning how to climb stairs and the whole family ooh's and aahs its joy. When he gets to the top of the long flight of stairs he's welcomed with loud congratulations as we smack his floppy ears around and tickle his skinny ribs through his tiny chest.
Sam doesn't judge, he doesn't blame, he's totally innocent. He bites when he doesn't like something or he's teething and he does funny stuff when he's happy, like run in circles and falls over as his wobbly legs slide out from underneath him. It's all so simple with him. Sam's the greatest friend I've ever had.
This is not my true nature
As a proud Hungarian I think it's about time I gave a big "in your FACE!"
And perhaps a "suck it!
" as well (hands crossed in an x over groin) yeah I'm bringin' it back!
Yeah, wow, thanks for the support readers! It's that sort of loving encouragement that makes me want to keep writing. And FYI, I'm not at all worried that my particular brand of self deprecating humour will just provide more cannon fodder for y'all to knock the hell out of me.
So now that I'm sober non-stop I'm not as cocky (good thing)
But that means I take your criticism to heart a little more (good/bad thing)
A whore? Aids? that's harsh...(bad thing)
So the same thing that people love about me is also my downfall. A double edged sword I suppose.
This just in
So I have my philosophy of love and sex exam this week. I'm pretty vocal in that class as the only hetro male in the class I have to stand against the majority (women in their 40's). I have some gay friends in the class and they just laugh at me and ask to borrow my notes.
Some of my fav contributions to the class have been...
- "Excuse me, but I wouldn't consider the usage of blow up dolls as a 'perversion', its really just glorified masturbation, those who use them are industrious people who should be admired for their creativity. Believe me it's not as easy as it looks!"
- "Please, we really don't need to hear about your vulva!"
Straight A's here I come!
Also, have a presentation on the Azerbaijan crisis in Iran, for my History of the Middle East class. It has a strong Kurd element so I'm trying to get a quote from Michael Ignatieff. Keeping my fingers crossed.
Gonna be a light week for posting, I've officially declared myself celibate and alcohol free until further notice.
Booya! New Poll
Just got this new poll thing I stole from my buddy at http://encyclical.blogspot.com.
Now I don't have to put up with annoying anon comments from dumb ass numb nuts who aren't worthy of a response from yours truly. If you have something to say? select one of the options to your right. If you don't like the options I gave you and find them to be irrelevant to your complaint? Go eat a dick!
I'm El Chupacabras bitches! As the worlds most beloved mythical creature I do whatever the hell I want! In your face pissy pants!
A wilful imposition of pain
Harvel Hendriz calls it Imago, Sigmund Freud calls it "repetition compulsion." Basically it's when we relive the most brutal or tragic moments of our lives in order to have influence over the outcomes. Take for instance a woman who as a young child was neglected by her father, she will look for those same qualities in her partner without even realizing it. She subconsciously self selects individuals who exhibits this behaviour so she can do her utmost to overcome it as she never had the capacity to do so as a child. Its a way of finding closure to some of life's most unsettling and helpless moments, its the reclamation of dignity from a time where you suffered a lack of control.
Freud says, along the same lines, that we will repeatedly place ourselves in the most disastrous of situations over and over again in an attempt gain mastery over loss. A painful internalization of a super-egoic need to do things that we don't want to do, and again a way of exerting control over an aspect of life that torments us and renders us helpless.
So what's it gonna be is the question it seems..
(gulp)...er...sorry about this :(
Arthur Schopenhauer claims that man will endure any amount of "trouble or danger in pursuit of a woman with definite qualities that appeal to him individually" He says this is an instinct bestowed upon brutes and that man will sacrifice his own happiness and welfare with no concept of the price to achieve such an end. "Nature implants itself wherever the acting individual is incapable of understanding the end, or would be unwilling to pursue it." He continues "He often sacrifices his own happiness in life contrary to all reason, by a foolish marriage, by love affairs which cost him wealth, honour and life, even by crimes such as adultery or rape."
So who among us is not subject to instinct? Who can deny the "Metaphysics of the Love of the Sexes"? as his work is titled. Maybe now my whole zombie love thing is making more sense, maybe the fact that I'm sitting on a giant time bomb and I'm the happiest glutton for punishment you've ever seen makes sense as well.
My ex girlfriend moves back to Toronto in 2 weeks...
My 50th post. And I'm bringing Hell with me
OK so I'm back, I had originally intended to take a few days off in order to take care of some other things in my life, but I received an anonymous comment last night that kept me awake. Literally at like 2 in the morning, I got an update (blogger sends a message to my blackberry every time someone comments on my blog) and I couldn't get back to sleep. So in my half asleep daze I was tormented by images of destruction of proud civilizations and the pure folly and egotistical thought process that resulted in such decimation."Speaking of intergalactic objects, I have always thought that we should put our garbage in outer space. That would clean the Earth. The space shuttle should transport our human garbage into outer space. Please advise on the viability of this exercise."
So I've heard this a few times now and it disturbs me. The fact that the entire culmination of human experience allows for thoughts like this to persist bewilders me. It reminds me of what Cortez and Diaz first remarked when they finally scaled the slopes of Popcatepetl and Ixtaccihuatl and saw the ancient Aztec capital of Tenochititlan. They and their band of about 400 conquistadors were astonished by the brilliant and vibrant city that welcomed them.
A letter from Cortez address to King Charles of Spain reported the discovery of November 1519 which stated, "When we saw all those cities and villages built in the water, and other great towns on dry land and that straight and level causeway leading to Mexico, we were astonished. These great towns and pyramids and buildings rising from the water, all made of stone, seem like an enchanted vision from the tale of Amadis. Indeed, some of our soldiers asked whether it was not all a dream. The towers rose higher than the cathedral at Seville. Moctezuma himself lived in a palace so marvellous that it seem to me impossible to describe its excellence and grandeur ...in Spain their is nothing to compare to it. It is twice the size of Seville, much larger than Naples or Constaninople."
Bernal Diaz later recounted that "I stood looking at it and thought no land like it would ever be discovered in the whole world..."
So here we have a pristine civilization, a testament to human ingenuity so amazing that seasoned explorers from imperial Europe were in absolute wonder of its splendour. Yet within a few short years, the two men who were initially in awe of this culture, had destroyed it. The Europeans had clogged the canals with human waste, garbage and the corpses or 100,000 Aztecs. Disease ran rampant through the city because the decaying flesh turned the water poisonous. The crops on the mainland withered and died, the ground loosing all fertility due to the toxins in the water, and soon starvation ensued. It was the European arrogance of not preserving the very thing that sustained the life of that culture. The city had thrived for 500 years, and it was systematically dismantled by the new comers. The water became such a problem that they eventually had the lake drained, but guess what? all those years of neglect turned the water into a sess pool, leaving the ground barren. Since nothing would grow, erosion became a severe hazard and noxious dust storms choked the inhabitant of the city.
Even today there are significant problems, because of the lack of fertility of the soil (and gigantic American corporate farms), many farmers are having difficulty eking out a living and had to abandon their farms and move in to what's now know as District Federale or Mexico City, putting further strain on a city that is vastly over populated.
So what's the point. Have we learned nothing from the mistakes of mans' abuse of nature. There are countless other examples, Easter Island where they cut down all the trees and resorted to cannibalism. Or Iceland where they cut down all the trees to build towns until nothing would grow because all the nutrients were leeched from the soil. It became so bad there was no trees left to cut down to build boats, so they were stranded on the island and the Vikings starved to death. Even today, look at Haiti, environmental abuse has left it as one of the most impoverished counties on the planet.
So would I condone sending garbage into outer space? No. Not only is the cost extremely exorbitant for the small amount of garbage that the cargo hold of a space shuttle could accommodate, but if we start to treat new frontiers in the same way that we treated old ones, I would start to question if a defining characteristic of being human is the ability to learn from past behaviour. Sadly there is no opt out clause. And if your argument is that space is infinite so what the hell does it matter? then you also believe in space's infinite possibilities. So it would be rude of you to litter in aliens' backyard. So I'd prefer that man rethink it's consumption patterns before we go all Cortez and Diaz on outer spaces' ass!
Just a self-important update...
I probably wont post for a few days and I wanted you to have some insight as to why...
1. I'm that cocky. I like to think that I have a readership that wakes up at 9 AM eastern standard time, even though they're on the west coast, to see if I've updated. Sucka' I caught you! extreme blog tracker strikes again!
2. Because of the grotesque but thought provoking comment from my poetic darling Dizzy I'm actually doing some research on the subject. Maybe it's cuz it's almost Halloween but I think I'm gonna try and dig up dead people....and then do them.
3. Super hooked on the new MCR romance vid "welcome to the black parade" I love how much they sound like queen at the beginning. Plus I think they'd appreciate my zombie content.
4. Packing. That's right mofo's I'm moving back into my own place. No more sleeping on a pile of t-shirts on the floor of an office building. What's next? A second pair of jeans perhaps...
5. It's been 4.5 days without a cigarette, doing well, but I want to suck the teeth out of my head. Also my brother gave me some nicaderm and now I can't sleep cuz it gives me wonky dreams. Plus I think I'm allergic to them.
6. Also doing research for another piece. Well not so much research, I stole some law students thesis paper on android sentience and now I'm trying to reword it to make it sound like I wrote it. I don't know if it's a good idea to take credit for the intellectual property of a lawyer.
But don't worry I left you, my adoring public, with something to occupy yourselves in my absence. I have two great new features to my blog. 1) you can now e-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org, I have it forwarded to my blackberry so you can keep in touch with me non stop. And 2) I've added a translator, so now you can enjoy your favourite posts in 6 different languages!
Whatev' see you in a few days.
Bridging the gap
Yeah I'm that corporate. Now I'm writing to appease fans rather than keeping it street and writing what I want. So here's my attempt to reconcile the desires of my two audiences. The first, my original following, those who look to me for the latest updates on underworld phenomenon, and the second, those who pity me and my woeful tales of anguish and my reflections on love.
As mentioned before I've been kicking the idea around of zombies and love. Up until now, two separate and distinct genres, but I think it's high time that someone explores the ramifications of zombies in love! I will look at philosophy, palaeontology and my own experience to render a judgement on the age old question; just how much of their humanity do zombies retain?
So one of the defining characteristics of a zombie is it's regression to a primal being. Zombies are thought to be only set on one thing-killing, or more specifically eating. The zombie gene, when attached to human DNA mutates it so that only the most primitive of impulses are received. This has to do with synapses along the central nervous system. Due to the fact that zombies are now dead and subject to decay, these synapses also degenerate so they are no longer receptive to more sophisticated or refined impulses. Only those that are hard wired through evolution into the human brain, like the need for food and water, transfer from one neuron to the next. So whether a zombie is hungry or not it will always hunt and kill. That's why you see in zombie movies a lot of biting and tearing of flesh but very little chewing and swallowing.
So here we have evidence of primal behaviour that is really just the result of succumbing to man's oldest needs. These same impulses are in all of us, but it is only when we get the zombie gene that we (usually) succumb to them. In my Grade 10 book report on the Lord of the Flies (that's right I'm quoting myself, I'm that cocky!) "Primitive man has found nature to be unfeeling, harsh and cruel. Nature has only become 'beautiful' since technology has insulated us from it."
We must remember that zombies and human don't share a common experience of nature. For us it's remote, far removed from our existence. Something we choose to encounter in a leisurely fashion. However, for a zombie or a hombie (someone who's making the transition from a human to a zombie) nature is not an option, it's all they have, and so they descend to what we would consider a savage state. Yet who are we to judge? If the only consideration were those of the civilized, rational man, we would have seen those poor souls who were forced to eat each other when their plane crashed in the Andes found guilty by a jury of their peers. Yet they weren't. Civility is relative, relative to the circumstance that one finds them self in. The enlightened thinker Rousseau believed that man was more noble in his savage state than anyone realized. "Very often it is profitable to let humans be humans, individuals, some strong and brave, some weak, some good, some bad..or given the right circumstances both."
Who among us can claim to be anything but human? Then who among us can deny that our basic components comprise of nothing more than a thin veil of civility over unabashed and savage need?
So this bring me to my next point, another primal urge, love or sexual desire. Now it has to be noted that early humans probably experienced something closer to jealousy or a mere desire for possession then love itself. But as witness by countless cave drawings or early statuettes there was a certain level of devotion that was put into the crafting of these artefacts. Consider the Venus of Willendorf from the Upper Palaeolithic period, sure the motivation may have been out of superstition or fear, but still attention was paid and the concept of service was born. So it is possible that the ability to love was present in early humans. The same humans with their hunter instinct, the same humans that exhibited the most brutal of behaviour (which are now being exhibited by zombies) were able to grasp this advanced human emotion. Any scholar who has studied the works of these early artisans would be unable to deny the devotion of these people. They demonstrated advanced cognitive behaviour in the recognition of a abstract idea, so why would they not posses the ability to recognize a value system pertaining to a tangible reality, another human. So it is my belief that love is also hardwired into the human subconscious, and it is in fact an inherant trait rather than a learned behaviour.
So if human DNA were to become mutated with the introduction of the zombie gene, it is possible that man would retain their ability to love. Again it would probably be insatiable much in the same way that hunger is, but still present none the less. The reason zombies don't typically display this emotion is for a number of reasons. For one, humans keep killing them in a fit of judgmental rage. Another reason, although it is a fundamental need, it is still subservient to other desires i.e. hunger. So if zombies were allowed to persist long enough to recognize the fact that they had their fill of bloody human, they may very well turn their attention to that need that they've been neglecting, and one that they probably require more than anything else-love. For with love comes understanding, and with understanding comes acceptance. And that is when zombies will begin to feel a sense of self actualization, and may very well recognize that they're not all that different from humans after all. Perhaps the next time you meet a zombie a little love would go along way in bridging the gap between two species that have historically been at odds. Good luck out there! And remember garlic only works on vampires as I discovered the hard way!
The streets couldn't wait Vol. II
In response to kchan's last comment I thought I'd touch a bit upon what has come to make me regarded as the worlds foremost expert on the paranormal. Not that I'm second guessing my choice of content, but kchan gave me a good suggestion once, so I'm a little beholden to him.
Heres some examples of when I try and use the stories that I write about on my blog in real life. Check it out.
Late March/Early April in Collingwood Ontario I was drinking in a hotel room. Also there was Belinda Stronach and her policy director. Some people were discussing the importance of bio-fuels and how we can use them to transform the fishisng industry out east. Blah blah blah, this was far too boring so I thought I'd spice it up a bit. So my contribution to the conversation was;"Hey you know what great about dinosaurs? Not only can you crush them up and put them in your gas tank, but they're also fun to have sex with!"
Great! apparently my humour doesn't have a universal appeal. I get all these of sci-fi geeks on my blog cuz they google things like "singularity" or "event horizon" These are the people that tell me I'm interesting/funny/creative, apparently it only works in the blogosphere, not in real life.
Another time just last month I was driving to Montreal with my friends step dad. Very cool guy, maybe 55 years old, French Canadian and real funny. I was trying to tell him about the newest big foot sightings in Norway House Saskatchewan or Manitoba or whatever it was. I told him about how it's entirely possible for an animal of that size to avoid detection and escape captivity for so long. This guys a Christian so I even tried to pitch the idea like it could be like a large bipedal gorilla rather than the missing link. After 4 hours of straight intense conversation nothing but dead silence followed all the way to Montreal.
So it's not like I'm giving up on my bread and butter, I'm just on a different tip right now. But don't worry, I've been working on a zombie sex/romance piece, because I feel I've been a bit to harsh on zombies lately. And generalizations are never a good thing...
Another Onion Skin...
This weekend, thanksgiving, marks the one year anniversary of my buddy's murder. I wasn't friends with Ahmed very long but we became friends quickly due to the closeness and intensity of our work. Ahmed had just returned to Canada from making a documentary about Kenya. More specifically, about children in Kabeira, the largest slums in East Africa. The hope was to turn this documentary into a learning supplement to be viewed by school age children in the western world about the importance of civic engagement or how crucial being involved in the community is to a child's development.
The problem facing the children in Nairobi was because the state didn't fund primary education, children as young as 5 or 6 were already getting in trouble, contracting disease, or what have you because they were basically idle. With no opportunity granted from the state and no supervision provided by the parents (who were off at work themselves) these kids began to devolve into destructive behaviour. So Ahmed started an NGO, he would sell the documentary to school boards, educate kids on the universal benefits of staying active and being involved in your community, then use the money raised to support educational programs in Kenya.
So my part was to help plan/promote the first fund-raiser and run the education simulation that was to hopefully be repeated across Canada. So we worked very closely with Ahmed in preparing for the debut screening of the film. I learned of his love for travel, his sense of adventure and his quite almost reverence for different culture. He had an amazing life, author of five books, shot in the first Gulf War while fighting for the Americans (go figure) and stabbed at Ryerson and subject to numerous death threats. But still he was a free spirit and a unique thinker with no ego or sense of self.
After the premier Ahmed travelled to Europe to help promote the film, but a family emergency and some legal claims led him to the United Arab Emirates. It was from a friend that we received the news through an e-mail in broken English that Ahmed had been poisoned by blow fish. The poison in blow fish basically opens up every receptor in the nervous system so electric impulses fire non stop until you shake your self to death, usually victims die by breaking their own neck. The entire thing reeked of foul play, poor terms with his family, a recent dispute over inheritance and a litany of other things all placed the family as prime suspects.
It was with great relief that during a small gathering of friends, I was informed that Ahmed was alive to see the documentary get picked up by over 70 universities in North America and Europe, and the first cheques were already being sent to Africa, thus fulfilling his dream to make an impact on the lives of others. So congrats to Ahmed, to his vision, to his life, to the huge group of inspired individuals who have ever met him. In many ways I would like to be as effective, capable and as loving as him. And through that one event I was able to develop myself, to refine my abilities, and it started me on a path of questioning that steered me towards my current trend of civic engagement. Something that now a year later, many people would use to define me. So thanks to Ahmed for that.
I suppose I should add, that 6 months later Ahmed began posting on his blog again...
My home town is mediocre by all accounts. Its tiny, but void of rural charm. Its quiet, but rumours are still viscous. It sits in a valley with marsh on all sides. On the long drive into town you receive no reception, the radio only plays static, an apt soundtrack given your destination. They say all roads out of town lead uphill, which is true for most, apparently too steep to even warrant trying for some. So those who stay lament the fact that everyone interesting has already left, or they drive around drunk killing each other. Make shift memorials dot the streets, crosses and flowers dangle from guard rails. Letters to the deceased blow around in the wind like onion skins (which blow around a lot like leaves do, but there's tones of them in my town)
Despite all this I do enjoy coming back. I miss the pregnant teenagers, I miss the boarded up businesses. I miss the chicken wings that still have feathers on them. Mmmmm delish! One of the best parts of this trip was sitting at the local bar, and hearing a pretty good description of what a lot of us here are collectively feeling. After high school it's harder to get closer to people. Those who are already on the inside, stay on the inside, whether or not your relationship as of late really qualifies them to be in that position. And those on the outside have a much harder time getting welcomed in. I guess with the distraction of all the other people you meet through life away at school, or on the job, you select a few good friends who represent the very best of your childhood and let them be the emissaries of your past while excluding the vast majority of those you grew up with.
So heres my list; which is also TJ's, Ryan's, Matt's, and Mike's list. Its TJ, Ryan, Matt and Mike. So we all share privileged positions in each other lives. These are the first people who's eye you catch when an old Grade favourite comes on. Or the first person you turn to to have duelling air guitar wars or grow team beards with.
So last night, after this intimate and telling discussion, which included a lot of "I love you man" and macho hugging, one of the guys on my list kicked my ass. So this is two weekends in a row now that this has happened and I'm starting to get pissed. So now I have the metallic taste of blood still in my mouth from my split lip and the chewed inside of my cheek. My nose burns from the abrasion from the carpet. My neck inflamed in a cruel razor rash from when he grabbed me by my throat. And my head on fire from the numerous shots that left the top of my head dented from his Queen's graduate ring.
And of course, true to form, I didn't throw a single punch. How courageous of me. I remember after the last fight, the need to think and react, and not just get pummelled. Well it was more of the same, I kind of just let it happen and didn't try and influence the outcome. What the hell.
Anatomy of a fist fight...
So the other night I got beat up. I was trying to do crowd control at my parents house while my brother had a kegger. Apparently I wasn't too effective, I wasn’t able to pacify the situation at all. I think I may have been a bit of an agitator, there’s no reasoning with drunk teenagers. So at my own house I got beat up by two 18 year olds.
I didn’t throw a single punch but I sure did a lot of thinking during the whole thing. The guy grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled me down. I could feel a sharp pain across the back of my neck as he broke my necklace. I grabbed his shirt as well and felt it rip loudly. He started filling in my head and I could feel the impact reverberate with each blow. The first one was pretty localized right behind my ear. The second one sent shock waves all the way through my right eye as his fist landed on my temple. A second wave went clear past my nose as he struck the top of my head. I remember worrying that if a third wave hit and the sensation spread past my nose and across my left eye that I’d get knocked out. Sure enough another blow followed which washed a warm splash of what could only be described as static across my entire face. I felt my teeth rattle, and my neck strain under the force. I was surprised that I didn’t get knocked out despite of it, and I remembered thinking "wow I'm good at this." Well good at getting hit and not throwing any punches my self.
I could hear the gravel beneath our feel, and I was staring down at his two legs firmly planted on the ground. It was then that a third knee hit me in the jaw and then the neck and finally the nose. I guess I was lucky on the last one, he hit me more with his thigh than his knee, sparing me huge amounts of damage to my nose. Around then it got broken up and we sort of just went our separate ways. I continued trying to get people to leave and they did their own thing. My dad woke up and came out so I was trying to herd everyone out to spare him the aggravation. I even ran into the guy again. All that was said was "Hey I know we just fought and that’s fine, but you need to get the fuck out please"
I'm glad we were able to patch it up.