Sunday, November 18, 2007


One day in elementary school, after the last bell of the day had rung and I was walking toward the bike rack, a boy whom I did not know (though I had seen him around) ran up to me from behind, sucker punched me in the face and ran away. To this day I do not know why he punched me. I cried as I walked my bike home.

That's what I look for in a book. Books like this are becoming fewer and farther between for me. The classics haven't been holding my attention lately, so I've been scouring the more obscure corners of the literary world, where the books are not weighed down by mountains of secondary literature.

I'm an asshole.


Walter Steeb said...

One day during my elementary school days I was walking up a hill with my skateboard in hand, heading to Josh Anderson's house. A car full of six guys and one girl stopped across the street from me and five of the guys (probably in high school?) walked up to me. One of the assholes told me to give him my skateboard. I told him no. He then punched me in the face and I just stood there and took it. I had no idea what to do or what was happening really. I just didn't want my skateboard stolen. The girl started screaming at the guys and they all ran back to the car and drove away. I cried for most of the ride to Josh's house out of confusion.

Matthew said...

I had something similar happen to me when I was a bit older as I was skateboarding at the middle school by my house (a banda of merzky sods demanding my board with threats and wee shows of ultraviolence). They took my friend's video camera, but I held onto my skateboard.

Why is childhood so violent?