Street Fightin' Man!

so i got into a fight with a trustafarian last week... not based on general principles as one would assume but this fucking societal parasite spat in a friend of mine's face, who was a girl, and who was merely trying to break up the scuffle...

"Stop fighting guys, it's not worth it" she pleas.

"Shut up whore!" this lowlife cretin retorts as he musters up a phlegm-wad and launches it in her face.

at that point i was in the middle of the fight, mediating, somewhat... but as soon as the mucusy glob hit her face maniacal sirens went off in my head, i twitched slightly as i imagine geoffrey dahmer would right before he would devour his prey, and i fucking body checked this asshole and sent him tumbling backwards into the street... after that i can't quite remember what happened, bows and fists a' flailing... my friends got into it... kicking and punching this sad, sad person... and then CRACK! i get fucking jacked in the nose... by that point everyone has dispersed and there i stood, or staggered rather... an apocalyptic fountain of blood cascading down my face... careening across the street i caught up to my friends who had rushed to a nearby jimmy john's to get some napkins for my pathetic looking face... jesus, if my mother would have seen my face... oh god, i can see her now... in tears, sobbing... ahhh the love only an italian mother can give...

everyone escaped the fight unscathed... the same can't be said for our hippie-scum friend, but fuck him...

jesus, not only did i intervene in a fight i had nothing to do with, i end up doing the only noble thing by sticking up for this girl, and i get the bloody shit -end of the stick... fuck me... cause she didn't....

I DO NOT CONDONE FIGHTING... I AM DOCILE, CANADIAN... BUT I GOTS TA STAND UP FOR WHAT RIGHT!!! RIGHT? .....

however, if you do decide to have a street fight of sorts... i'd suggest having a friend pull up to the scene blaring The Cramps' Psychedelic Jungle...

Jordan "he who shits crystals" Walters

jesus... here it goes... i guess

Werd,

how fitting, to start my blogging at a coffee shop in lawrence, ks.

trite? contrived? yep, you got it. fuck it, didn't jk rowling piece together harry potter by scribbling on napkins at coffee shops? ahh... coffee shops, i wish i could actually stomach coffee... it seems after a sip or two my insides begin to churn, my bowels twisting and screaming. give it about 5 minutes and it sounds like i'm farting in reverse and i'll begin to squirm as the gaseous build up becomes intolerable. at this point, i'll casually walk to the bathroom to deflate... fucking coffee...

like a vegan at FIVE GUYS, here i am at a coffee shop, henry's on eigth street to be exact.

its inimitable interior is inspiring enough. across from my table is a painting, a mural that looks like a hybrid of thomas benton and francis bacon. of course, the requisite local artwork... which is, eh, okay... i supposed... a little tepid and uninspired... actually it blows... whatever, support local artists eh?

no, this place is rad. there's never a shortage of western shirts and disheveled hair... the occasional cute girl, the occasional stealing and exchanging of glances... yeah, that's right... i'm talking to you, little lady with the adidas samba's and the nose ring. i want to approach her with something like, "so, what do you think of the new st. vincent album?" goddamn, i wish these things didn't matter to me, who cares if she likes the new st. vincent album or not... whatever, it's not like i have a fraction of the gumption it would take to ACTUALLY approach her...

Oh jesus... what have i done? i need to stop... i totally get it now... blogging, that is, not women.... allright, that's enough.

ciao