I wrote the following journal entry in response to an entry written by cklarock. It seemed like a waste not to post it here, so I offer this up for your reading pleasure.
What I found particularly interesting was CKs response:
That is a FANTASTIC story. You karmically took that beating so that the woman at the bar didn't have to take worse. Because had you not taken her home, surely the two predators would have gotten her. She'll never know it, but she owes you one.
He took what was for me, an unnerving experience, and made a rather remarkable paradigm shift, reframing the events in a way that is probably closer to the truth than Id realized. Dont look at it that way, he said. Look at it this way.
Violence and Philosophy
Last summer I spent a week on vacation in Santa Cruz, one of my favorite cities in the world (I haven't really visited enough cities in the world to give an objective opinion, but it sounds good). I stayed with one of my best friends, Morgan, who lives only a couple blocks from the beach. I was very much looking forward to this respite since it had probably been two years prior that I had anything more than a long weekend to break my stride.
The second night there I decided to mosey down to a dive bar that I'd spotted earlier in the day because it was within walking distance of home base. Morgan and her boyfriend had decided to retire early but I always enjoy meeting locals over a few rounds of drinks.
I was mildly disappointed to find that The 529 (as it was named) didn't possess more character. It was a somewhat run down sports bar occupied by small groups of men who were shooting pool, playing chess, or throwing dice. Mostly, it was just a room with four walls and a concrete floor where you could get drunk for cheap. It was an unassuming evening as I chatted with various patrons, engaged in a game or two of chess, and slowly started to wind down from the vigor of living in Los Angeles.
Shortly thereafter, a pretty young woman entered the establishment, alone, and promptly ordered a Long Island Ice Tea or some other such obnoxious concoction designed strictly to lay you out cold. Then she ordered a second. And then a third.
By this point the eyes of every man in the bar was on our lass as it was evident that she was going to get fucked up. I decided to make my move and help her out before somebody far less scrupulous took advantage of her inebriated state. I dont remember her name but she was nice enough, a pretty blonde with hair pulled back in a ponytail, who definitely had an agenda that evening.
I think you should probably slow down there, I said, sidling up to the bar next to her.
Im doing just fine, she grinned back, blue eyes already starting to glaze over.
We chatted a bit until it became obvious that walking was going to become something of a challenge for her. Id learned that she, too, lived within walking distance of the bar so I offered to escort her home where she could pass out in peace. She was open to my suggestion, if only because she clearly had designs on me. Over catcalls of Kobe!! we left the bar as I assisted her stumble for the couple blocks to her house where she nearly crashed through her front door, started throwing off clothes, then, quick as lightning, fell face first onto her sofa. I turned her over, pulled a nearby throw blanket over her, locked the front door and left. Satisfied with my Good Samaritan deed, I returned to The 529.
Sojafucker? the bartender sneered.
No, but give me a seven and seven, I replied. It made no difference that he likely didnt believe me.
Fuck who? the guy next to me asked. I explained my story to this stranger, who chuckled. Since I dont remember his name either, well just call him Jack.
Jack and I hit it off immediately. I was a little self-consciously out of place at this dive since I was still dressed a little like Id just stepped off the bus from Hollywood, but Jack was himself from Los Angeles. He said he was a club promoter around Southern California, so it didnt take long before we started shooting the shit about music venues with which we were both familiar. He was about my own age, from Santa Cruz, and had moved to L.A. to chase the stars. Somewhere along the line, and not long ago, he said hed spent time in prison for reasons that were unclear to me. I found this very intriguing.
Jack was a little flashy for Santa Cruz, a town known more for its wealthy hippies, scruffy punks, and gnarly surfers than its club promoters. He was a sharp dresser, drove a decked out Acura TL and rather seemed to enjoy throwing his money about, buying drinks for virtual strangers. As last call fell on the bar, a friend of Jacks had joined us for a drink, a curly haired and wide-eyed man of medium build who could aptly be described as a ruffian. Since I didnt have to be anywhere the next day and none of us was particularly in the mood to call it a night, we decided to pile into Jacks car and drive to his house in the hills. Wed play some pool, have a couple more drinks, and chill out with girls that Jack promised he could conjure at this late hour of the night.
Jacks house was really something more of a mansion, sporting a two-car garage (a Porsche parked in the other bay), more rooms than could be easily seen from the spacious, open living room, a small swimming pool, an extravagantly full bar, big screen television, and myriad other amenities that doubtlessly cost a small fortune, especially in an place as affluent as Santa Cruz. Given the alleged time hed spent in the cooler, I became even more curious as to the source his Jacks wealth. Club promotion seemed an unlikely if not inadequate source. Was he a con? Drug dealer? Gunrunner? Pimp?
By now I had a pretty good buzz going so I limited any subsequent drinks to beer. I was enjoying my vacation, had made new acquaintances in a strange town, and looked forward to reading books and stretching out on the beach under the summer sun.
My evening then took a turn for the surreal.
Jacks friend hadnt really warmed up to me from the moment we met. Something about him seemed out of place, maybe even a little antagonistic, enough to keep my Spidey sense at a dull tingle since wed been introduced. I dont know if it was the alcohol, some other illicit substance, or the fact that the girls who were promised were no shows, but suddenly, and without warning, Jacks friend turned very hostile.
So you think youre fuckin all that, huh, Hollywood? the friend scowled, arms sprawled with swagger over the back of the overstuffed chair he was sitting in.
I dont know what youre talking about, I replied.
You think youre fuckin bad ass? the man challenged, standing up out of the chair, his eyes now locked on me.
You need to chill out, man, I said, trying to subdue the tension in the room.
Who the fuck do you think you are, Hollywood? he shot back angrily, now starting to stalk toward me.
As I looked around the room, I found Jack watching the scene unfold in his house with undisguised amusement. I suddenly realized that I was alone in a house with strangers, in a location I couldnt identify, at a place where nobody knew I would be. Wed all be drinking, and that didnt bode well. Jack said hed been sent to prison and the question of why sprang to the front of my mind. Drugs? Manslaughter? Homicide?
We all need to calm the fuck down, I stated boldly, standing erect and posturing my shoulders backwards as a sign of physical defiance. What the hell was I going to do if somebody pulled out a gun?
Fuck you! Jacks friend spat out, pacing across the living room floor, glaring, increasingly agitated.
Dude, you really just ne--
Dont be a pussy, man, Jack interjected, grinning from ear to ear. Fight him.
Ive been in fights before although I dont go looking for them (except with close friends and when were drunk). They do nothing for me and Id prefer to avoid than needlessly engage. Especially when convicts outnumber me and nobody can help if things go bad.
Fuck this, I said. Im leaving. I backed away to the front door cautiously, with both men staring at me, and Jacks friend still pacing angrily.
Outside, the night air was crisp and refreshing. I pulled out my cell phone to call for a cab only to discover that I couldnt get a signal up in the mountains. I still didnt know where I was and only vaguely remembered how I got there; a few city streets, a good stretch of freeway, and a long, winding drive through the woods. I zipped up my jacket and began walking down the pitch-black driveway illuminated only by a smattering of stars that broke through the overcast night sky.
Hey, where are you going? I heard Jack shout out from behind me. I turned around to see him walking out of the doorway to his house.
What the hell was that all about? I asked testily.
Man, hes just messing around. He wasnt going to do shit.
Yeah, well, I really dont know either of you guys so how the hell am I supposed to react?
Come back inside and have a beer, dude. Its a long walk.
Jacks friend stepped through the front door.
The fuck you want now, Hollywood? Jacks friend yelled. You decide to stop being a pussy?
Shut the fuck up, Jack yelled back. Get back in the fuckin house, man. Hes my guest. Helluva way to treat your guest, if you ask me.
But in a heartbeat, Jacks friend sprinted the 20 yards that separated us, eyes filled with rage, throwing his fists at me with a vengeance. The skirmish lasted only a few seconds as I took a couple blows to my head and face before stumbling away. Regaining my composure, I lunged back at the man, my own anger now pouring out of me. I took several more violent blows before I was thrown to the ground, my ear ringing from a punch, cheek swollen, blood now oozing from my nose and mouth. I never claimed to be much of a brawler. I was now starting to pay for my lack of experience.
I looked up to find Jacks friend glowering at me, almost snorting with satisfaction now that his thirst for blood was starting to be quenched. Jack, too, was taking pleasure in the turn of events, laughing heartily while wrapping his arm around his comrades neck. The two thugs were relishing this moment. And I was fully aware that short of some Bruce Lee berserker maneuvers that Id never learned, this might not end well.
Get up, Jacks friend hissed as he licked his lips.
Fuck you, I replied defiantly, reluctantly prepared for whatever consequences would be meted out. Im not going to fight.
Then maybe Ill fuck you up more. Maybe, he sneered, maybe Ill just fuck you.
Until that moment, it had never occurred to me that I could find myself in a place where my sexuality could be compromised. Until that moment, Id never fully understood the safety issues that women can never, ever take for granted, particularly with strangers. Until that moment, I never considered that I could be the victim of rape.
Despite my fears, I knew that I had to leave immediately, either fighting or fleeing. Staying put with this company was not an option as it could get me maimed, killed or worse. I pulled myself back up on my feet.
Jack, youre going to fucking drive me the fuck back to my home, I screamed, blood spraying from my mouth. If nothing else, I probably looked pretty scary. Get me the fuck out of here, I demanded.
Jacks friend, clearly not ready to give up, started to approach toward me once more.
Keep him the fuck away from me, I shrieked at Jack, eyes bulging from my head.
Much to my surprise, Jack stepped between me and his friend, restraining his comrade. Ill never really know why, but I gave him enough reason for pause to stop the situation from unraveling completely. Drive me the fuck home, I growled.
Although my fate was still uncertain as the two goons argued about me and Jack protested that he was too inebriated to drive, eventually, he acquiesced. Jack convinced his friend to get back in the house. And, after he finished apologizing for his friends behavior almost like a child would to his parent, the drive back to Morgans house was silent, almost serene. Once we hit the public roads I knew that I was safe. My cell phone picked up a signal again and I could easily flag down a passerby, even at four in the morning.
Not wanting to push my luck, I had Jack drop me off two blocks from my destination.
Hey, were cool, right? Jack asked obsequiously as I stepped from his car.
Fuck you, I replied as I walked away.
What I found particularly interesting was CKs response:
That is a FANTASTIC story. You karmically took that beating so that the woman at the bar didn't have to take worse. Because had you not taken her home, surely the two predators would have gotten her. She'll never know it, but she owes you one.
He took what was for me, an unnerving experience, and made a rather remarkable paradigm shift, reframing the events in a way that is probably closer to the truth than Id realized. Dont look at it that way, he said. Look at it this way.
Violence and Philosophy
Last summer I spent a week on vacation in Santa Cruz, one of my favorite cities in the world (I haven't really visited enough cities in the world to give an objective opinion, but it sounds good). I stayed with one of my best friends, Morgan, who lives only a couple blocks from the beach. I was very much looking forward to this respite since it had probably been two years prior that I had anything more than a long weekend to break my stride.
The second night there I decided to mosey down to a dive bar that I'd spotted earlier in the day because it was within walking distance of home base. Morgan and her boyfriend had decided to retire early but I always enjoy meeting locals over a few rounds of drinks.
I was mildly disappointed to find that The 529 (as it was named) didn't possess more character. It was a somewhat run down sports bar occupied by small groups of men who were shooting pool, playing chess, or throwing dice. Mostly, it was just a room with four walls and a concrete floor where you could get drunk for cheap. It was an unassuming evening as I chatted with various patrons, engaged in a game or two of chess, and slowly started to wind down from the vigor of living in Los Angeles.
Shortly thereafter, a pretty young woman entered the establishment, alone, and promptly ordered a Long Island Ice Tea or some other such obnoxious concoction designed strictly to lay you out cold. Then she ordered a second. And then a third.
By this point the eyes of every man in the bar was on our lass as it was evident that she was going to get fucked up. I decided to make my move and help her out before somebody far less scrupulous took advantage of her inebriated state. I dont remember her name but she was nice enough, a pretty blonde with hair pulled back in a ponytail, who definitely had an agenda that evening.
I think you should probably slow down there, I said, sidling up to the bar next to her.
Im doing just fine, she grinned back, blue eyes already starting to glaze over.
We chatted a bit until it became obvious that walking was going to become something of a challenge for her. Id learned that she, too, lived within walking distance of the bar so I offered to escort her home where she could pass out in peace. She was open to my suggestion, if only because she clearly had designs on me. Over catcalls of Kobe!! we left the bar as I assisted her stumble for the couple blocks to her house where she nearly crashed through her front door, started throwing off clothes, then, quick as lightning, fell face first onto her sofa. I turned her over, pulled a nearby throw blanket over her, locked the front door and left. Satisfied with my Good Samaritan deed, I returned to The 529.
Sojafucker? the bartender sneered.
No, but give me a seven and seven, I replied. It made no difference that he likely didnt believe me.
Fuck who? the guy next to me asked. I explained my story to this stranger, who chuckled. Since I dont remember his name either, well just call him Jack.
Jack and I hit it off immediately. I was a little self-consciously out of place at this dive since I was still dressed a little like Id just stepped off the bus from Hollywood, but Jack was himself from Los Angeles. He said he was a club promoter around Southern California, so it didnt take long before we started shooting the shit about music venues with which we were both familiar. He was about my own age, from Santa Cruz, and had moved to L.A. to chase the stars. Somewhere along the line, and not long ago, he said hed spent time in prison for reasons that were unclear to me. I found this very intriguing.
Jack was a little flashy for Santa Cruz, a town known more for its wealthy hippies, scruffy punks, and gnarly surfers than its club promoters. He was a sharp dresser, drove a decked out Acura TL and rather seemed to enjoy throwing his money about, buying drinks for virtual strangers. As last call fell on the bar, a friend of Jacks had joined us for a drink, a curly haired and wide-eyed man of medium build who could aptly be described as a ruffian. Since I didnt have to be anywhere the next day and none of us was particularly in the mood to call it a night, we decided to pile into Jacks car and drive to his house in the hills. Wed play some pool, have a couple more drinks, and chill out with girls that Jack promised he could conjure at this late hour of the night.
Jacks house was really something more of a mansion, sporting a two-car garage (a Porsche parked in the other bay), more rooms than could be easily seen from the spacious, open living room, a small swimming pool, an extravagantly full bar, big screen television, and myriad other amenities that doubtlessly cost a small fortune, especially in an place as affluent as Santa Cruz. Given the alleged time hed spent in the cooler, I became even more curious as to the source his Jacks wealth. Club promotion seemed an unlikely if not inadequate source. Was he a con? Drug dealer? Gunrunner? Pimp?
By now I had a pretty good buzz going so I limited any subsequent drinks to beer. I was enjoying my vacation, had made new acquaintances in a strange town, and looked forward to reading books and stretching out on the beach under the summer sun.
My evening then took a turn for the surreal.
Jacks friend hadnt really warmed up to me from the moment we met. Something about him seemed out of place, maybe even a little antagonistic, enough to keep my Spidey sense at a dull tingle since wed been introduced. I dont know if it was the alcohol, some other illicit substance, or the fact that the girls who were promised were no shows, but suddenly, and without warning, Jacks friend turned very hostile.
So you think youre fuckin all that, huh, Hollywood? the friend scowled, arms sprawled with swagger over the back of the overstuffed chair he was sitting in.
I dont know what youre talking about, I replied.
You think youre fuckin bad ass? the man challenged, standing up out of the chair, his eyes now locked on me.
You need to chill out, man, I said, trying to subdue the tension in the room.
Who the fuck do you think you are, Hollywood? he shot back angrily, now starting to stalk toward me.
As I looked around the room, I found Jack watching the scene unfold in his house with undisguised amusement. I suddenly realized that I was alone in a house with strangers, in a location I couldnt identify, at a place where nobody knew I would be. Wed all be drinking, and that didnt bode well. Jack said hed been sent to prison and the question of why sprang to the front of my mind. Drugs? Manslaughter? Homicide?
We all need to calm the fuck down, I stated boldly, standing erect and posturing my shoulders backwards as a sign of physical defiance. What the hell was I going to do if somebody pulled out a gun?
Fuck you! Jacks friend spat out, pacing across the living room floor, glaring, increasingly agitated.
Dude, you really just ne--
Dont be a pussy, man, Jack interjected, grinning from ear to ear. Fight him.
Ive been in fights before although I dont go looking for them (except with close friends and when were drunk). They do nothing for me and Id prefer to avoid than needlessly engage. Especially when convicts outnumber me and nobody can help if things go bad.
Fuck this, I said. Im leaving. I backed away to the front door cautiously, with both men staring at me, and Jacks friend still pacing angrily.
Outside, the night air was crisp and refreshing. I pulled out my cell phone to call for a cab only to discover that I couldnt get a signal up in the mountains. I still didnt know where I was and only vaguely remembered how I got there; a few city streets, a good stretch of freeway, and a long, winding drive through the woods. I zipped up my jacket and began walking down the pitch-black driveway illuminated only by a smattering of stars that broke through the overcast night sky.
Hey, where are you going? I heard Jack shout out from behind me. I turned around to see him walking out of the doorway to his house.
What the hell was that all about? I asked testily.
Man, hes just messing around. He wasnt going to do shit.
Yeah, well, I really dont know either of you guys so how the hell am I supposed to react?
Come back inside and have a beer, dude. Its a long walk.
Jacks friend stepped through the front door.
The fuck you want now, Hollywood? Jacks friend yelled. You decide to stop being a pussy?
Shut the fuck up, Jack yelled back. Get back in the fuckin house, man. Hes my guest. Helluva way to treat your guest, if you ask me.
But in a heartbeat, Jacks friend sprinted the 20 yards that separated us, eyes filled with rage, throwing his fists at me with a vengeance. The skirmish lasted only a few seconds as I took a couple blows to my head and face before stumbling away. Regaining my composure, I lunged back at the man, my own anger now pouring out of me. I took several more violent blows before I was thrown to the ground, my ear ringing from a punch, cheek swollen, blood now oozing from my nose and mouth. I never claimed to be much of a brawler. I was now starting to pay for my lack of experience.
I looked up to find Jacks friend glowering at me, almost snorting with satisfaction now that his thirst for blood was starting to be quenched. Jack, too, was taking pleasure in the turn of events, laughing heartily while wrapping his arm around his comrades neck. The two thugs were relishing this moment. And I was fully aware that short of some Bruce Lee berserker maneuvers that Id never learned, this might not end well.
Get up, Jacks friend hissed as he licked his lips.
Fuck you, I replied defiantly, reluctantly prepared for whatever consequences would be meted out. Im not going to fight.
Then maybe Ill fuck you up more. Maybe, he sneered, maybe Ill just fuck you.
Until that moment, it had never occurred to me that I could find myself in a place where my sexuality could be compromised. Until that moment, Id never fully understood the safety issues that women can never, ever take for granted, particularly with strangers. Until that moment, I never considered that I could be the victim of rape.
Despite my fears, I knew that I had to leave immediately, either fighting or fleeing. Staying put with this company was not an option as it could get me maimed, killed or worse. I pulled myself back up on my feet.
Jack, youre going to fucking drive me the fuck back to my home, I screamed, blood spraying from my mouth. If nothing else, I probably looked pretty scary. Get me the fuck out of here, I demanded.
Jacks friend, clearly not ready to give up, started to approach toward me once more.
Keep him the fuck away from me, I shrieked at Jack, eyes bulging from my head.
Much to my surprise, Jack stepped between me and his friend, restraining his comrade. Ill never really know why, but I gave him enough reason for pause to stop the situation from unraveling completely. Drive me the fuck home, I growled.
Although my fate was still uncertain as the two goons argued about me and Jack protested that he was too inebriated to drive, eventually, he acquiesced. Jack convinced his friend to get back in the house. And, after he finished apologizing for his friends behavior almost like a child would to his parent, the drive back to Morgans house was silent, almost serene. Once we hit the public roads I knew that I was safe. My cell phone picked up a signal again and I could easily flag down a passerby, even at four in the morning.
Not wanting to push my luck, I had Jack drop me off two blocks from my destination.
Hey, were cool, right? Jack asked obsequiously as I stepped from his car.
Fuck you, I replied as I walked away.
VIEW 16 of 16 COMMENTS
jasechase:
I thought you were gone for a second there.
bob_dobalina:
a south swell is due by mid-week