Vitriol & More Lessons From A 16oz Glove.
There just seems to be very little work done on unification. In fact, even those previously associated with collective consciousness seem to have embarked on vitriolic assaults on different ideas and agendas. I was trying to find some collective somewhere that wasn’t currently enraged at the actions or ideas of another collective somewhere else. The Apathetics perhaps, but no one wants anything to do with them.
People who don’t want to wear a mask, scorn the mask wearers as unconscious slaves who have fallen prey to more evil reptilian control who have dedicated their scaly lives to pushing the yardstick of what they can make us do further and further. To wear a mask is to be enslaved by the system, and not only that... it will make you ill. If you wear a mask you begin to recycle your own waste. I mean, if a woman doesn’t wash, and chooses to wear the same clamwrappers every day she’s probably going to end up with a yeast infection eventually, but we clean the things that we put on our bodies, don’t we?
The mask wearers are screaming at the non-mask wearers for putting the lives of them and their children at risk. Then we have black people who are apparently pointing fingers at the entirety of the white race as having some sort of inherent privilege, and that there should be a constant sensation of guilt running through the veins of the white folk. But, I’m pretty sure that’s not the case -at least I fucking hope it isn’t- and the reality is that there’s a load of white folk who have misinterpreted something and that’s what it sounds like now. Then we have a whole load of white folk who are coming out with some fucking hilarious ideas, but they’re not funny because they mean them and they have guns and they’ll stand by them. My thoughts... God exists, he’s in control, and he’s just developed a taste for PCP.
The left scream at the right and the right scream back. I wonder what we’re all meant to be distracted from? There are days when I walk into the ring and I can see the vitriol in the other person’s eyes. Some days its a cause for concern, but on days like today, I like to drop my hands and feel what the other person wants to do to me. I’ve never been much of a boxer, but I’ve always enjoyed the meaning in the mixed emotions I feel towards fighting. Today I just let my hands relax by my side and looked into the angry eyes of someone with two 16oz gloves aimed at my face. The more punishment I took, the more he wanted to deal it out. I understand the frustration. For me, It’s a deep massage of the soul, if I can just relax into it. It reminds me that I’m a moveable object, but it also reminds me that I can take more punishment than I once thought I could.
Some shots shake my brain and make me take a deep breath while others put a smile on my face. I spur my opponent on, encourage him to let it all out. Slip into the shots to give them more power instead of slipping away from them. Every combo lands clean. The round finishes. The coach tells me to keep my hands up. I’ve heard it before, but I’m not here to box today, I’m here to audit how much punishment I can take. At the end of three rounds, I feel cleansed. Like the only thinking clearly we can do is when we’re not thinking at all. We have this onanistic relationship with the thoughts inside our heads. We scour the internet looking for people to annul with our ideas. We jump when we’re challenged. We are hungry to prove that our ideas trump the rest. Our language is built around what makes us more correct. We interract more to attack than to learn, and we only hold those who do not challenge us close.
Between COVID 19, the current racist whatever it is, and everything else, I feel the spotlight has been shone on everything that flaws us. Yet we’re busy arguing that all this ugly shit is of utmost importance. I guess people want to feel special. In my opinion, feeling special is a waste of life, but I’ve got into that before. People who are out of jobs are mostly displaying their absolute lack of adaptability and creativity as they desperately pluck at new endeavours. I feel that it shows how dismantled so many people are when their lives aren’t planned out for them. When they’re given the steering wheel for their own life it’s like watching a children’s craft fair, but we’re all too old for unconditional love now. And if they’re not trying to move on, they’re desperately trying to defend whatever industry it is that has crumbled at the hands of the pandemic. The hard truth is that if something doesn’t survive this, its not important. Not on a fundamental level. Our lives are 85% appurtenance. Sometimes we have to face up to the fact that what we hold dear in our hearts doesn’t actually matter all that much. That either seems to humble some people or make them uglier.
I do hope everyone gets out of whatever all of this is okay. I hope they have the opportunity to reconsider what it means to be a brain and a body amidst everything else. I hope they get to study the relationship between strength and vulnerability. I hope people realise that being loud and thinking that they stand out from the crowd is probably a form of mental illness. I hope people realise that there is nothing personal when times are hard and that we’d do better to prepare ourselves for a few blows from life’s 16oz gloves because we can’t always keep our hands up.
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