I've been coming down from a cold I've had since Tuesday, not quite well enough to take up smoking again but well enough to stay awake for more than three hours at a time. Slept through the hellstorm for the most part and couldn't be happier that I did, though the snow-party shenanigans did sound kind of fun in my sort of semi-consciousness.
It might have been the punches I took to both sinuses on Saturday Night,when I tried to break up a fist fight between a fat Lakota fellow and his mother, that left me susceptible to the cold. I met them and his cousin at the Beacon Lounge, the cousin is a nice girl of 25 who took a liking to me. She called back after I made it home to see if I was okay and I said yes. She called back the next day to ask me why I hadn't met up with her like I said I would. (?) I told her I had forgotten the exact address of her apartment which was the truth. I've also forgotten her name which I didn't mention. She texted me from a couple of different phones that night and hasn't contacted me since and that will do.
I don't remember if I took any swings back at the big fellow. I said something about what a disgrace it was, to see a son fighting his mother. I took offense. I was drunk; the punches didn't hurt all that much, and I was surprised to have two black eyes the next day. They're mostly cleared up now. The cousin, she told me they all went to jail, mother son and someone else. Whether they've been bailed out by now or not I don't know. She hasn't called me back, like I said, and I'm not going to call her.
It was also at the Beacon where I saw a thirty-something woman get a tooth knocked out by the man she shot down. This was Wednesday night. It started out as a brawl between the suitor and the woman's friend-with-benefits, he turned on her when she tried to pull them apart. He knocked her to the ground and than I tried to pull him off of her but couldn't do it until a couple of black guys coming out of the Night Before helped us out.
Three cops showed up. They surrounded the black guys until me and the woman told them three or four times that they weren't involved, this in spite of the fact that they were wholly unbruised and I was the only White cat in the crowd who wasn't. The cops were clearly acting on autopilot. Accuse them of bias and they'll deny it with perfect conscious honesty.
And of course I'm back in Nebraska for a little bit. I don't mention that any of the white people are mentioned because here we are nine out of ten as always. Well not quite always. It really would be better if the Indian woman didn't call back though I like her well enough, and feel bad about not knowing her name.
I waited with the Wednesday white woman for a few minutes until her boy had convinced the cops that the other fellow was the aggressor and they let him go. She spat blood on the sidewalk and mourned her lost tooth, and rightfully so. She's average looking, one of the most average looking creatures of any kind or sex I've ever seen. Give her a full set of teeth and she's average in a comforting sort of way. Take a away a tooth or two and she's average in a slow decay of life sort of way. God damn disgrace that rat fuck. Clearly a low-level sociopath; she would have been beyond stupid to get anywhere near him. Now here she was spitting blood on the sidewalk as a reward for not being stupid.
Hell of a game Saturday Night wasn't it? It reminded me of the old big 8 games between Nebraska and Oklahoma, Nebraska and Colorado. Any touchdown at any point of the game could be the one that wins it and every inch was such a God-Damned struggle. I think I learned to tolerate and even appreciate the low scoring nature of soccer watching these games growing up. Hopelessly bashing your way towards the impossible goal that you must have. It's the sort of game where even the rational and libertine become fascists at heart for a couple of hours. We start to believe that success or failure depends solely on our collective will. We will win as long as I keep staring at the screen very hard and think of nothing else and we will lose if I blink, and all the while the teams pound each other to hopeless stalemate while the clock dwindles and the inevitable big fuckup looms larger and more unsurvivable. That's what entertainment is; absolute power over an audience of millions and total impotence on a field of twenty two. That's fucking Midwestern man, to find diversion in other people creating your unwinable struggles for you on some wretched December night.