25 March 2013

Minor Incident

In darker moods I tell myself I am getting way too old for this shit. Perhaps I am. As you may have heard, last weekend I was in a fist-fight in a local bar. I was verbally confronted and punched in the face for hitting on some random chap's girl. Admittedly I went too far, drunk on gin; I own it.

On the side of my face I sustained a deep 5cm gash, which, I can confirm, is healing into a prominent scar. "That's gonna leave a mark", as the wits tell me, and I dare say they are right. That, and a thrice-broken nose and blonde beard--along with a demeanour not reminiscent of that of a pretty boy or metrosexual--have all the indications of an angry thug, as one of my chums calls me. An angry thug in tailored suits and bespoke London-made shoes, I reply.

How did this happen? I was raised in exceptionally privileged circumstances, both in this country and abroad, about which I am quite open and for which I make no apologies. But, as diligently as I have tried over the years, I absolutely do not fit in. Nor, if I am honest with myself and with you, do I want to. It simply was not meant to be. The modern world is a constraint. We were meant for higher things. I am cutting my own path.

By this mark, I suppose, they shall know me.

15 comments:

doug said...

"This it is that distinguishes the higher natures- they have reverence for themselves; their own souls contain to them something precious which must be brought to fulfillment, for the higher natures have some of the attributes of superpersonal souls. Like history in its fulfillment laying waste human resources, denying and frustrating human wishes, reaching deep into private life to chasten souls with tragedy, the higher man deny and subordinate their own emotions, sacrifice their private lives, and all because there is something more important to them than all this: the mission."-Yockey

Cameron said...

Bet you felt alive though.

I was involved in a similar fracade last year. Whilst attended a friends wedding on the Gold Coast I got bored during the pre-wedding dinner and hit up a notorious bar on the strip with a few other bachelors. I tried to tune some random brunette walking past and the next thing I know some local is death starring me. I went over and approached the chap to inquire what the problem was and next thing I know I'm in a mexican stand-off with him and his mate.

Now when it comes to these types of situations I've always felt the best approach is that of the old Welsh rugby coach who advised his players to 'get their retaliation in first'. I vaguely remember swinging at the larger of the two. Next memory is the smaller fucker literally swinging off my Daytona (that's how tough those things are). Next a I remember hanging onto the bar and trying to avoid numerous blows. My mates thankfully save me and we absconded to Jupiter's casino.

The next day I went and got my watch link fixed then had nice surf. Needless to say I was the talk of the wedding. I just displayed my swollen right fist to show I got a few in.

Hope you did too Cody!

Cameron said...

Fracas, sorry. My Spring Equinox holidays have started so the Coopers Sparkling Ale is flowing.

La Sombra Sofisticada said...

Scars give character to a man's face. And with that attitude, each fights is a win.

Anonymous said...

http://takimag.com/article/the_irrational_yet_perfectly_understandable_nature_of_blood_vengeance_goad#.UVFoRwnDjSM.email

w. adam mandelbaum esq. said...

Roses are red, violence is black and blue, boozing and bimbos can cause damage to you. Could have been worse, you could have scored with her and caught something she got from her boyfriend that isn't under the category of candy and flowers.

Ivar said...

At least the other fellow was willing to fight. These days, one would expect an American to wimp out. He probably got great sex that night as well, so you did him a favor.

Anonymous said...

That's the spirit. Carry on and wear it with pride. Rather like the Mensur Schmiss, a Red Badge of Courage, as it were.

Ordnungssinn said...

You must really stand out in Laguna & Newport. That, or because I spent my time in hockey and soccer pubs, I missed the gentleman thug crowd of southern Orange County.

Blaze the path AC! You have numerous Anglo-German allies, here in the American Heartland.

Anonymous said...

I can't help but wonder how pretty was the girl?! Was she worth it?! Helen of Troy . . . a face that launched a thousand ships and so on . . . Well, she must be closer to thinking that of herself now. Maybe she is. I also wonder if her so-called boyfriend thought she was worth fighting for or rather it was a just pride thing. A lion pride thing. Not that I'm always good at taking advice myself, but I would try to avoid nose break #4 at all costs.

Anonymous said...

I'm reminded of a song.

"Wait a minute, mister,
I didn't even kiss her.
Don't want no trouble with you.
And I know you don't owe me
But I wish you'd let me
Ask one favor from you."

(Chorus)
"Won't you give me three steps,
Gimme three steps mister,
Gimme three steps towards the door?
Gimme three steps
Gimme three steps mister,
And you'll never see me no more."
For sure. Show me the back door!
Lynyrd Skynyryd

Anonymous said...

There are ways of managing the healing process to reduce scarring. You can research it on the Interwebs or consult a pretty nurse. You could also consult a plastic surgeon about returning the nose to a state similar to its natural one.

Redcoat said...

Or not.

Anonymous said...

Perhaps you don't fit in because most people were NOT "raised in exceptionally privileged circumstances". Most people might not be so presumptuous as to hit on a strange woman without first ascertaining her availability. I've always said that men are typically less catty than women since it is understood that they are one wrong-word away from a fat lip, or in your case a 5mm scar. Just sayin'....love the blog....

Jonathan said...

I trust the boyfriend wasn't a Negro. Landing a mud shark might infect the pool as it were.