Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Kicking Doors


I buy into a certain kind of bullshit about being tough.

About packing the gear.


I don't know what it is. Maybe growing up with a daddy that was a cop. Seeing him put on his badge and gun in the early morning hours and step out into his patrol car in the driveway. Hearing his stories. Seeing them on television. Seeing lots of shit on television and the movies. Men running into enemy fire. Men dying in the sand and in the jungle and on the streets. Men grimacing and holding their shoulders as fake blood ran down their arms.


My little brother joined the Marines.

I used to worry about him.


Now he's a cop and I still do.


I seen death and killing. I know some about it. In its intimate details. Held things in my own hands, pieces of a man. Of a woman. A child.

I know enough to know better.


Still, it's something in me that can't learn. I'm off tomorrow to teach MP-5 submachine gun to the county Narcotics team. I can't sleep almost. I want to infect them with a mindset. I want them to walk out of that range training with something hard in them that might keep them alive.

I want it for myself.


When you are a child you see these things men do and you want badly to do them although you have no understanding. When you are a man and you choose to do them there is some part of you that is still a child. Although you should have understanding by then.

But you do and you don't.


You do and you don't.


What is this thing within me that wants so badly to be fed?

Is this where my demons lie?

Is this my strength?

Or is this some other thing?


I have a great weakness within me.

I seek to expell it.



Anonymous Anonymous said...

scott, congratulations on your fine work in the current mannequin envy. i was telling jennifer that normally i don't much care for the way editors choose illustrations to go with a poet's work because it doesn't usually get to the essence of the thing, but in this case, with authors putting up their own illustrations for the editor to choose from, i really do think we are given a unique perspective on the writing itself, and i welcome this adventure with open arms, hoping to see it again in the future.

5:00 PM  
Blogger deirdre said...

every time i read here I am left pretty much speechless and I go away w/o saying a word - but jesus christ scott - who you are, what you do, how you express it - you are fucking unbeatable baby

take it to the bank

10:40 AM  
Blogger sam of the ten thousand things said...

"I seek to expell it." Great line for this. I'm enjoying the reads here Scott. Somehow, and don't ask me why or how, the writing makes me rerun Touch of Evil in my head.

1:23 PM  
Blogger tearful dishwasher said...


I agree, I think Jennifer did an excellent job with her choices, and the artists and poets did as well. It's all a big hodge-podge of shit we draw from and chew on and regurgitate. The boundaries are where it gets interesting, where things overlap, turn from one thing into another. Like how when we walk on the beach we want to be not in the water or up high on the sand, but where the sand is wet and the water laps over our feet before pulling back.

Anyway, thanks, dude.


That is just about the nicest thing I could have heard and I really fucking needed it today.

Thank you, girl.

You get a goddamn lollypop for that.

Sam of the 10k thangs-

I am pleased as I can be that you find something here that makes you want to keep coming back.

Here's a cool exchange from the movie:

"Come on, read my future for me."

"You haven't got any."

"What do you mean?"

"Your future is all used up."

Thanks again, Sam.


4:32 PM  
Blogger sam of the ten thousand things said...

Your future is all used up is pure impact in the film. Great line.

12:52 PM  
Blogger LoveandSalt said...

You can't expel the weakness without becoming empty. You can only know it, and inhabit it, until it isn't weak.

8:40 PM  

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