Post by adm on Aug 9, 2011 9:11:56 GMT -6
A lot of life is dealing with your curse, dealing with the cards you were given that aren't so nice. Does it make you into a monster, or can you temper it in some way, or accept it and go in some other direction?
Wes Craven
The rain pours down upon my head as I step out of the alley in San Francisco. I turn the corner while dressed rather modestly for my typical self. I wear a rather drab old t-shirt and pair of jeans. I am not dressed for success, as it were, I'm just dressed. The streets know my name a bit too well here, I've walked them in sun, rain, and fog for a good portion of the last year. They know me here, they also realize I'm somewhat of an outsider. I'm on the cusp of being a transplant San Franciscan, it just depends on how much more time I spend here, among the more liberal side of Californians. I am an hour removed from my last seven years or so of life, and am able to start anew as far as finding out who I am, though many would think that a thirty-three year old shouldn't, I beg to differ. Sometimes, you never truly do know yourself as well as you think.
I turn the corner and am facing the church I've been frequenting over the last few days. I am not praying, by any means, I gave up that ghost years ago, but the thing I'm here for is counsel. I need someone who is trained to listen, and I can disseminate the religious bull**** out of anything said.
"Good morning, Kristoff. How is your path back to the lord leading you today?"
"The lord is still out there somewhere, I believe, however I have yet to find him." I could be up for a Golden Globe for this performance. And I'd like to thank the academy.
The scene is rather typical for a small city church. The building looks much like an old Storefront, with the pews aligned where the aisles used to be. It makes for a visually interesting picture, but it also doesn't do much in the way of space. I've seen much bigger churches, and compared to the ones down by L.A. that they film the Televangelists out of, this is a hole in the wall. A closet, if you will.
He looks me over, as if he can smell the cheap booze of the bar I went to the night before. As if he can smell the desperation of my futile attempts to find a woman to replace what I've lost, to try and resume my "normal" life.
"Have you been drinking, Kristoff?"
"Not today, sir."
"But last night. You went to a bar to try to recover from the loss."
I hesitate, I know he's examining my every move. I am not happy with myself for immitating Steve Awesome and going to bars to try and find women. Especially since it's not my typical modus operandi.
"Yes, I did. And I was, yet again, unsuccessful."
He knows I am lying, at least in part. His eyes look me over, and I am also wondering why he keeps looking me over like he has been. This is, after all, San Francisco.
"Well, I must say I am not pleased to hear that you were there. I am, at least, relieved you did not lie with a woman simply because you are lonely. The bible specifically says against such things, I'm sure you know enough after my last few days of preaching and counsel to not need me to repeat the verses once again."
"I've got them highlighted in the bible at my apartment."
Truth be told, I wrote them on the dry-erase board on my fridge. But it doesn't make me a Christian, it just reminds me of how much of a sinner I really am as a punishment. There are others up there as well, but let's not talk about that now.
"So, Kristoff, where do you plan to go from here?"
"Well, I was thinking about going to the Orchestra before I leave town for Collision on Sunday. I also will probably visit my friend Johnathan again before I leave town."
He doesn't know that the orchestra is a front, he also doesn't know that Johnathan is going to take me to a bar. What he doesn't know, won't hurt him.
"Sounds like a good way to begin your path to repentance. Perhaps your soul is on the righteous path after all."
Right...and I'm ****ing Jesus. I'm rather closer to Judas, as I feel I'm walking toward the gallows.
"Well, my son, I believe you should go and pray for your answers. God knows all things, and he loves all his children, no matter who they are. Remember that. You are going through a troubled time, but if you believe in the Lord, you will make it through."
Ah, more bull****, but I get what he's saying. No matter what I do, I'll be forgiven, by someone. No matter who I am, it's ok to be who I am. And it's alright to be confused. All I'm really looking for is assurance I'm not so drastically weird and off the beaten path that I deserve to be dragged through the streets of Dallas behind a truck filled with cowboys.
I bow and take my leave of the religious ass, constantly thinking of what his naked possibly homosexual ass would look like nailed to the cross next to Jesus. I often wonder that when I go to members of the faith, because simply...all reverends and pastors seem like gay pedophiles who need to be crucified to me, especially after that Catholic scandal and the whole Boy Scout thing...I mean, so many kids abused like that, the whole lot need to be extinct. Back into the rainy day, and back to trying to find my place in the world...
****
Sunday Night I watched a great man be broken in half for absolutely no reason in the middle of his Hall of Fame induction. I was in my apartment, working out while watching Collision, when the debacle went underway. I stopped what I was doing, I stared at the screen. I watched what you did to Angel, Lex, and I must say I am appalled. There was no reason to rip the career, and possibly life, from Angel. He may never walk again. You have taken a legend and turned him into a cripple. Congratulations, now you have the whole of nCw against you. No matter what you think, we all appreciated the big bad guy of Angel. And you have now ruined what was a legendary career by cutting it short with one single moment of trying to look like a big, bad super villain. Well, Lex. *Slowly Claps* You get to put your name next to Luthor as one of the Super Villains named Lex. You made no sense imitating a 1990's Bane by breaking Angel in half, but you don't care, you're off in your fantasy world enjoying yourself.
Listen, Lex, I REALLY don't know a lot about you other than your backstory and what you've done lately. I mean, you took my old, and sometimes unreliable, partner of Jimmy Zane AKA James Wolfe and turned him into a two-time Tag Champion. Good job, you've done what I did, but for longer because you haven't had to face BurningFalconswithAIDS like we did, in our SECOND MATCH AS A TEAM! Welcome to reality, Lex, you play yourself off as some madman, just trying to get a name for yourself, when all you are is a cheap imitation of the real crazy ****er giants and you know it. When's the last time someone compared you to one of those? I mean, I beat Homeless Harold, and he had a LOT more personality than you do. You're just an aimless, unintelligent, retarded fool who drools at the mouth, rolls your turds into balls and eats crayons in between matches. I'm sure you have a bunch of great sketches on your refrigerator that look like my kids did them, covered in feces and probably half-eaten. You're insane, and by what I saw from your little "promo" from last week, you really are.
I mean...you saw the devastation of misery Picture Perfect had for the losers, and you thought it wasn't enough. You wanted to go beyond beating Angel in HIS match. You wanted to make Rob Diamond suffer more than losing the World Title to Steve Awesome. You wanted to make Brad Kane suffer more than realizing he can't destroy Adam Knite without killing him, and he's not going to prison for that ****, no matter what he said before the match. You wanted to make anyone who was on the losing end feel like a total failure, you wanted to hammer it home by taking one of their friends, their colleagues, and the guy who tries to reign in any and all wild eggs like you and you cripple him. Good job, you really put the point of your douchebaggery across like the one-half of the tag champions you really are. There's a reason you're not in a bigger division, and this is it. Your inability to see or think clearly has you simply beating around the lower levels of this establishment when you honestly feel you deserve more. If you did, you wouldn't be teaming with Zane/Wolfe, that's for sure. I realized when I was with him, how far down the hole I was, that's why I left for a year. It's better to start over, than to climb out of the hole of being a one-half champion.
I know, you want me to be afraid. You probably have a million and one unintelligible things to say, riddled with threats of breaking me. I know you are bigger than I am. You're over a foot taller, you have a hundred pounds in pure muscle on me. I'm just some tiny insignificant nerd to you. I'm a Henry Rollins impersonator needing to be crushed under the mighty foot of Sense, I know that's what you have on your mind. "Lex Crush! Lex destroy nerdy man!" Now, if you would get the crayon out of your mouth for a second, I'd like to inform you on a little bit of philosophy.
Nietzsche once said "Battle not with monsters, lest you become one. Stare not into the abyss, for it gazes also." Well, Lex, I've battled monsters before. And I've done it enough to become as much like one as I can be, when I'm in that ring. You are big, you are strong, you are violent and unpredictable...but when you look at my history of unpredictability, I'm just as dangerous as you. And I have a far greater grasp of intellectual matters, and could probably trick you into felling yourself, if I were to really feel like it. So come, bring your ugly mask, your VENOM, your ripped muscles and scream "Break you!" all you want, because it's not going to be so simple to put me down, Lex. Now go back to your little drawings, I hope to hear from you soon.
Wes Craven
The rain pours down upon my head as I step out of the alley in San Francisco. I turn the corner while dressed rather modestly for my typical self. I wear a rather drab old t-shirt and pair of jeans. I am not dressed for success, as it were, I'm just dressed. The streets know my name a bit too well here, I've walked them in sun, rain, and fog for a good portion of the last year. They know me here, they also realize I'm somewhat of an outsider. I'm on the cusp of being a transplant San Franciscan, it just depends on how much more time I spend here, among the more liberal side of Californians. I am an hour removed from my last seven years or so of life, and am able to start anew as far as finding out who I am, though many would think that a thirty-three year old shouldn't, I beg to differ. Sometimes, you never truly do know yourself as well as you think.
I turn the corner and am facing the church I've been frequenting over the last few days. I am not praying, by any means, I gave up that ghost years ago, but the thing I'm here for is counsel. I need someone who is trained to listen, and I can disseminate the religious bull**** out of anything said.
"Good morning, Kristoff. How is your path back to the lord leading you today?"
"The lord is still out there somewhere, I believe, however I have yet to find him." I could be up for a Golden Globe for this performance. And I'd like to thank the academy.
The scene is rather typical for a small city church. The building looks much like an old Storefront, with the pews aligned where the aisles used to be. It makes for a visually interesting picture, but it also doesn't do much in the way of space. I've seen much bigger churches, and compared to the ones down by L.A. that they film the Televangelists out of, this is a hole in the wall. A closet, if you will.
He looks me over, as if he can smell the cheap booze of the bar I went to the night before. As if he can smell the desperation of my futile attempts to find a woman to replace what I've lost, to try and resume my "normal" life.
"Have you been drinking, Kristoff?"
"Not today, sir."
"But last night. You went to a bar to try to recover from the loss."
I hesitate, I know he's examining my every move. I am not happy with myself for immitating Steve Awesome and going to bars to try and find women. Especially since it's not my typical modus operandi.
"Yes, I did. And I was, yet again, unsuccessful."
He knows I am lying, at least in part. His eyes look me over, and I am also wondering why he keeps looking me over like he has been. This is, after all, San Francisco.
"Well, I must say I am not pleased to hear that you were there. I am, at least, relieved you did not lie with a woman simply because you are lonely. The bible specifically says against such things, I'm sure you know enough after my last few days of preaching and counsel to not need me to repeat the verses once again."
"I've got them highlighted in the bible at my apartment."
Truth be told, I wrote them on the dry-erase board on my fridge. But it doesn't make me a Christian, it just reminds me of how much of a sinner I really am as a punishment. There are others up there as well, but let's not talk about that now.
"So, Kristoff, where do you plan to go from here?"
"Well, I was thinking about going to the Orchestra before I leave town for Collision on Sunday. I also will probably visit my friend Johnathan again before I leave town."
He doesn't know that the orchestra is a front, he also doesn't know that Johnathan is going to take me to a bar. What he doesn't know, won't hurt him.
"Sounds like a good way to begin your path to repentance. Perhaps your soul is on the righteous path after all."
Right...and I'm ****ing Jesus. I'm rather closer to Judas, as I feel I'm walking toward the gallows.
"Well, my son, I believe you should go and pray for your answers. God knows all things, and he loves all his children, no matter who they are. Remember that. You are going through a troubled time, but if you believe in the Lord, you will make it through."
Ah, more bull****, but I get what he's saying. No matter what I do, I'll be forgiven, by someone. No matter who I am, it's ok to be who I am. And it's alright to be confused. All I'm really looking for is assurance I'm not so drastically weird and off the beaten path that I deserve to be dragged through the streets of Dallas behind a truck filled with cowboys.
I bow and take my leave of the religious ass, constantly thinking of what his naked possibly homosexual ass would look like nailed to the cross next to Jesus. I often wonder that when I go to members of the faith, because simply...all reverends and pastors seem like gay pedophiles who need to be crucified to me, especially after that Catholic scandal and the whole Boy Scout thing...I mean, so many kids abused like that, the whole lot need to be extinct. Back into the rainy day, and back to trying to find my place in the world...
****
Sunday Night I watched a great man be broken in half for absolutely no reason in the middle of his Hall of Fame induction. I was in my apartment, working out while watching Collision, when the debacle went underway. I stopped what I was doing, I stared at the screen. I watched what you did to Angel, Lex, and I must say I am appalled. There was no reason to rip the career, and possibly life, from Angel. He may never walk again. You have taken a legend and turned him into a cripple. Congratulations, now you have the whole of nCw against you. No matter what you think, we all appreciated the big bad guy of Angel. And you have now ruined what was a legendary career by cutting it short with one single moment of trying to look like a big, bad super villain. Well, Lex. *Slowly Claps* You get to put your name next to Luthor as one of the Super Villains named Lex. You made no sense imitating a 1990's Bane by breaking Angel in half, but you don't care, you're off in your fantasy world enjoying yourself.
Listen, Lex, I REALLY don't know a lot about you other than your backstory and what you've done lately. I mean, you took my old, and sometimes unreliable, partner of Jimmy Zane AKA James Wolfe and turned him into a two-time Tag Champion. Good job, you've done what I did, but for longer because you haven't had to face BurningFalconswithAIDS like we did, in our SECOND MATCH AS A TEAM! Welcome to reality, Lex, you play yourself off as some madman, just trying to get a name for yourself, when all you are is a cheap imitation of the real crazy ****er giants and you know it. When's the last time someone compared you to one of those? I mean, I beat Homeless Harold, and he had a LOT more personality than you do. You're just an aimless, unintelligent, retarded fool who drools at the mouth, rolls your turds into balls and eats crayons in between matches. I'm sure you have a bunch of great sketches on your refrigerator that look like my kids did them, covered in feces and probably half-eaten. You're insane, and by what I saw from your little "promo" from last week, you really are.
I mean...you saw the devastation of misery Picture Perfect had for the losers, and you thought it wasn't enough. You wanted to go beyond beating Angel in HIS match. You wanted to make Rob Diamond suffer more than losing the World Title to Steve Awesome. You wanted to make Brad Kane suffer more than realizing he can't destroy Adam Knite without killing him, and he's not going to prison for that ****, no matter what he said before the match. You wanted to make anyone who was on the losing end feel like a total failure, you wanted to hammer it home by taking one of their friends, their colleagues, and the guy who tries to reign in any and all wild eggs like you and you cripple him. Good job, you really put the point of your douchebaggery across like the one-half of the tag champions you really are. There's a reason you're not in a bigger division, and this is it. Your inability to see or think clearly has you simply beating around the lower levels of this establishment when you honestly feel you deserve more. If you did, you wouldn't be teaming with Zane/Wolfe, that's for sure. I realized when I was with him, how far down the hole I was, that's why I left for a year. It's better to start over, than to climb out of the hole of being a one-half champion.
I know, you want me to be afraid. You probably have a million and one unintelligible things to say, riddled with threats of breaking me. I know you are bigger than I am. You're over a foot taller, you have a hundred pounds in pure muscle on me. I'm just some tiny insignificant nerd to you. I'm a Henry Rollins impersonator needing to be crushed under the mighty foot of Sense, I know that's what you have on your mind. "Lex Crush! Lex destroy nerdy man!" Now, if you would get the crayon out of your mouth for a second, I'd like to inform you on a little bit of philosophy.
Nietzsche once said "Battle not with monsters, lest you become one. Stare not into the abyss, for it gazes also." Well, Lex, I've battled monsters before. And I've done it enough to become as much like one as I can be, when I'm in that ring. You are big, you are strong, you are violent and unpredictable...but when you look at my history of unpredictability, I'm just as dangerous as you. And I have a far greater grasp of intellectual matters, and could probably trick you into felling yourself, if I were to really feel like it. So come, bring your ugly mask, your VENOM, your ripped muscles and scream "Break you!" all you want, because it's not going to be so simple to put me down, Lex. Now go back to your little drawings, I hope to hear from you soon.