picked up my geisha and the few remaining items i had left at the ex-boy's house. it was purely a constructivist exchange; short and simple. i had things to do, and i'm pretty sure he had his own fair share of stuff to deal with.
i was quite happy to get my sweet geisha back. so happy, in fact, that i let out a huge YEEHAW as i left his neighborhood. which leads me to...
+++++
i won my first dogfight tonight.
i damaged the front hull on geisha during the third fight. it was me vs. captain. i decided to play chicken with her, but apparently she was as brave as i was and we collided head on, bending my front hub. we straightened it out the russian way, and i walked off the field still unsatisfied.
there was one more fight. i grabbed the ship pierre was riding, the SAX george dilboy, and headed in. that ship is too big for me and it handles really strangely, but for some reason, it feels so right. so, string tied around my neck, i rode in.
evil twin tried to run me off the pavement and i kicked his front wheel out. captain tried to yank the string and choke me, but my reflexes are fucking quick and i slapped her hand away. then it was me and phooka. he went for the string as well, which is foolish, as you could better knock a pilot off by kicking out their rear hub, or just grabbing their handlebars and shaking them off. he got too close. i kicked out his front wheel and he landed flush against the pavement, that sweet flesh-meets-concrete sound echoing for that one minute of silence before everyone yelled out,
"FUCKIN-A, SAMURAI!!!"
me, the fucking urban ghetto kid who never learned to ride a bike until i was 22. me, the one with the heart defect. out of 20 pilots, i was the last one standing. and with not a scratch on me. my maneuvering must have improved 300%.
++++++
i think about this as more of a personal victory. tonight, i wasn't riding for the sake of anyone. i wasn't there to impress anyone, any boy, i wasn't there to live up to whatever stereotype of who i should be. i was there to ride. i was riding for myself. i fought for myself. i went in wishing to be completely fucked up. to be thrown off, to grate the flesh off of my arms.
instead, i emerged victorious.
my ex came up to me and said, "Samurai, you never cease to amaze me. That was wonderful. You are wonderful."
six months ago, that would have made me feel so validated, so invincible. today, i looked him in the eye and said, "you know it, asshole," and walked away. i didn't care for his opinion, nor his praise. not that i care for anything he has to say, i have no respect for him. this was one of my epiphonies that i had on the bus:
no one fucking validates me. your opinion of me means jack to me. i, and only i, validate myself. everyone else can go fuck themselves.
and i proved that i could last a round against 19 other people and not wuss out. a year ago i was afraid to go in. today, i did not want to come out.
indeed, a fucking new era. 2005 is my fucking year.
+++++
i was quite happy to get my sweet geisha back. so happy, in fact, that i let out a huge YEEHAW as i left his neighborhood. which leads me to...
+++++
i won my first dogfight tonight.
i damaged the front hull on geisha during the third fight. it was me vs. captain. i decided to play chicken with her, but apparently she was as brave as i was and we collided head on, bending my front hub. we straightened it out the russian way, and i walked off the field still unsatisfied.
there was one more fight. i grabbed the ship pierre was riding, the SAX george dilboy, and headed in. that ship is too big for me and it handles really strangely, but for some reason, it feels so right. so, string tied around my neck, i rode in.
evil twin tried to run me off the pavement and i kicked his front wheel out. captain tried to yank the string and choke me, but my reflexes are fucking quick and i slapped her hand away. then it was me and phooka. he went for the string as well, which is foolish, as you could better knock a pilot off by kicking out their rear hub, or just grabbing their handlebars and shaking them off. he got too close. i kicked out his front wheel and he landed flush against the pavement, that sweet flesh-meets-concrete sound echoing for that one minute of silence before everyone yelled out,
"FUCKIN-A, SAMURAI!!!"
me, the fucking urban ghetto kid who never learned to ride a bike until i was 22. me, the one with the heart defect. out of 20 pilots, i was the last one standing. and with not a scratch on me. my maneuvering must have improved 300%.
++++++
i think about this as more of a personal victory. tonight, i wasn't riding for the sake of anyone. i wasn't there to impress anyone, any boy, i wasn't there to live up to whatever stereotype of who i should be. i was there to ride. i was riding for myself. i fought for myself. i went in wishing to be completely fucked up. to be thrown off, to grate the flesh off of my arms.
instead, i emerged victorious.
my ex came up to me and said, "Samurai, you never cease to amaze me. That was wonderful. You are wonderful."
six months ago, that would have made me feel so validated, so invincible. today, i looked him in the eye and said, "you know it, asshole," and walked away. i didn't care for his opinion, nor his praise. not that i care for anything he has to say, i have no respect for him. this was one of my epiphonies that i had on the bus:
no one fucking validates me. your opinion of me means jack to me. i, and only i, validate myself. everyone else can go fuck themselves.
and i proved that i could last a round against 19 other people and not wuss out. a year ago i was afraid to go in. today, i did not want to come out.
indeed, a fucking new era. 2005 is my fucking year.
+++++
I have a question for you. Why does your name keep vanishing from my list, only to re-appear a few days later?
keep it rulin,
j-skeet