When I moved to California on a crazy whim in 2010, I was no longer surrounded by people who loved me enough to forgive what an obnoxious blackout drunk fuck I was. So, I got knocked out in a bar that I frequented because my friend worked there and poured me free beer. I always had big friends that would enable me to run my mouth to whomever I wanted. They would tell me to go start fights so that they could come to finish them, they just loved to fight. We hung out and drank by bonfires on white horse beach in Plymouth, MA, which we called “Fight Horse Beach”. My friends always chose violence, and I was glad to initiate it with no bodily risk to myself.
I don’t remember what I did to get knocked out in this Oakland, CA pizza shop/ bar but I’ll tell you this: I had it coming, I know I had it coming. I had been a protected mouthy bastard for 24 years, I needed to get knocked down a few pegs. The guy who knocked me out did me a favor, honestly. I never had the faintest clue on how to watch my mouth until then.
Every little kid with a big mouth needs to learn what that guy taught me and I’d thank him if I could. I was not very pleased with it at the time, it took years before I understood the value of being punched in the face for being an obnoxious little twat.
I would like to think that I am at least a little bit less of an obnoxious twat than I was pre-K.O. I at least aspire not to be one, and maybe that’s half the battle.
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