Oh Man, Look At Those Cavemen Go

It happens all the time - I push myself and I get tired and the mind starts to wear down and I start to mumble blasphemous things under my breath and become emotionally unstable... I'm loving it though guys, I'm performing and rehearsing and being pushed as an actor (which I effing love). The only drag to the inner-Billy circle jerk of joy is the job.

These freakin' idiots I am forced to talk to in order to get a paycheck... They make me want to set my knuckles on fire and then punch them in the face repeatedly.

And on thinking about that, I was reminded of a night, long ago, outside the Steps of Rome in North Beach, San Francisco... Follow me now, will you?

Corado and I were walking down the sidewalk, a little drunk on red wine when we heard a loud and heated argument break out. Two older men, who looked a little - shall we say, disreputable - began yelling at each other about a woman and how said woman was taken by one of the men. Things escalated really quickly and suddenly punches were being thrown.

I don't like witnessing real violence; it makes me uncomfortable and it shreds the small amount of faith that I have that we as men and women have the ability to divine something greater out of our basic animal origins. I at times can get into that vicarious thrill of film violence, but sometimes I even get overwhelmed by that. I talk all tough, but it would actually take a lot for me to purposefully hurt someone else.

"It's amazing how fast it happens..." Corado said, watching these two salty bastards go at it on the street corner. I imagine myself grimacing while I look on. At some point, this tussle knocks someone's coffee cup onto the street and I turn to watch the fluid course its way down the sidewalk. Defense mechanism, perhaps, but my entire attention went to watching this brown stream of coffee find the path of least resistance to the drainage grate in the street, where it would then lead to San Francisco Bay and then to the Pacific beyond. I got completely wrapped up in the idea that water, like energy, just continually recycles itself and its very nature is to get on back to the mother ship.

And now I cannot get my mind off the fact that Pluto is no longer a planet. It makes me want to freeze my fist in liquid nitrogen and punch an astronomer in the face with it until one of them shatters. I refuse to change my model of the solar system, I'll go ahead and be wrong. Lick my balls bitches!

I would pay good money though to watch the dog Pluto duke it out with Goofy...