This is the time of year when everyone wears a red poppy in the great and just rememberance of our glorious dead (not my choice of words, I've seen alot of dead and among the many words I could use descriptively 'glorious' is not one of them), so this is the itme of year when such 'dead' are on my mind, those who died beside me and those who died at my hand, as well as the many many others.
This has one predictable affect, flashbacks, remembering these people and their 'passing' reminds me of the violence and ugliness associated with it. result = flashbacks.
This is also the time of year when every shop in the street is selling pyrotechnics to 10-year-olds, yes, fireworks season. which means every street in every town is alive with the sound of fireworks, the result = flashbacks.
This is some seriously crappy timing, someone somewhere is having a fecking larf.
Friday, 31 October 2008
Friday, 24 October 2008
violence
I remember the day I discovered violence.
I was periodically bullied at school, what with being the skinny ginger kid, and I had made a point of lifting weights to try and get away from the skinny thing, after about 6 months of lifting I had enough self confidence to turn around to a bully and attack him instead, hard, fast and violently.
I had discovered violence and it made the bad things go away.
When I was 17 and in the army, only just, I was on a late-night patrol and we saw some guys down by the fence in a dark corner, as-per procedure we shouted a warning and their reply was gunfire and I fired back, later we found a body, I killed a man and I was only 17, and you know what? serves the stupid cunt right, shoot at a soldier, what the hell do you expect?
My exemplary performance in the technicalities of getting so many bullets into a man at that range, in the dark, under fire, caught the attentions of a group of people who I spend the next three years with doing the most interesting work the army had to offer, also the most dangerous. I didn't apply to join them, they found me. the day violence discovered me.
Later, and still, I feel many things about the people who died at my hands. my rationale says that they put on a uniform and/or they carried a weapon and they ought to know that is enough to put you in mortal danger. my emotions say that I am responsible for a number of deaths and a greater number of greiving families.
I recently drove past, several times, that place where I first killed a man, I expected a crash of emotions, I only felt two. one was a sadness both at the death and at the violent path I went down because of it. the other was 'stupid cunt shouldn't have been shooting at a soldier'.
I was periodically bullied at school, what with being the skinny ginger kid, and I had made a point of lifting weights to try and get away from the skinny thing, after about 6 months of lifting I had enough self confidence to turn around to a bully and attack him instead, hard, fast and violently.
I had discovered violence and it made the bad things go away.
When I was 17 and in the army, only just, I was on a late-night patrol and we saw some guys down by the fence in a dark corner, as-per procedure we shouted a warning and their reply was gunfire and I fired back, later we found a body, I killed a man and I was only 17, and you know what? serves the stupid cunt right, shoot at a soldier, what the hell do you expect?
My exemplary performance in the technicalities of getting so many bullets into a man at that range, in the dark, under fire, caught the attentions of a group of people who I spend the next three years with doing the most interesting work the army had to offer, also the most dangerous. I didn't apply to join them, they found me. the day violence discovered me.
Later, and still, I feel many things about the people who died at my hands. my rationale says that they put on a uniform and/or they carried a weapon and they ought to know that is enough to put you in mortal danger. my emotions say that I am responsible for a number of deaths and a greater number of greiving families.
I recently drove past, several times, that place where I first killed a man, I expected a crash of emotions, I only felt two. one was a sadness both at the death and at the violent path I went down because of it. the other was 'stupid cunt shouldn't have been shooting at a soldier'.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
