murderous nature

did i tell you the story of the junkie who stole from my house? a day doesn't go by that i don't wish i'd kicked his ass the night i found him. i'm not exaggerating. i stood in the shower for five minutes yesterday imagining punching him in the face. tonight i saw him in a bar and didn't do anything. coover got me in to the bar past close cause she works there, and it was more important to me that i talk to her alone for a half hour than whatever it was i was going to do to this kid. he had a group with him. likely they wouldn't have done anything to defend him, but the bar would've called the cops. i'll never get the chance to beat him to my heart's content because i hate him too much to ever be satisfied. what sucks is that i'll always carry that with me.

okakura kakuzo tells an old story in his famous Book of Tea: a teacher is walking with his student when a rabbit sees the student and runs away. the teacher asks, "why did the rabbit run away?" the student responds, "because he's afraid of me." but the teacher replies, "no, he's afraid of your murderous nature."

violence is something foreign to me, but i want to understand it better. last year i spent several months trying to get someone - anyone - to fight me, but they wouldn't do it. they all said it was because i was more athletic than they were, but ray gave a slightly different response. ray insisted that i was a boxer, because i'd been in one boxing match a month prior. i insisted that i didn't know what i was doing and hadn't had any training. he conceded the possibility that i was unskilled but continued to fight all his friends but me. after a while it became clear that no one would fight me, not because they were afraid of me, but because they were afraid i was too violent for a friendly boxing match. the story of how i came to be viewed that way is almost over now, and i think i'm ready to start telling it.