first journal post in over four years, first meaningful thoughts in at least as long
waking up at 3:30 in the morning, nothing is right; for most of us, the world seems mostly foul no matter what time we wake up, nonetheless, i'll take 6am predawn blue scrape your windshield monday over the Dead of Night that is 3:30. Numerology aside, it is the middle of the night, most of us are about two REMs deep and whatever stimuli that wakes us -whether we are dreaming or not- seems horribly wrong. The slightest breeze leaves the waking man feeling as if he had been touched, or if the night's silence has been broached by the sound of man, we fear intruders. Most of the time, however, the waking fear is fleeting, our rationale overcomes it and we return to oblivion.
So at 330 am last night I awoke to this
Or at least some approximation of Ric Flair's <big><big>"WOOOOO"</big></big> that some drunk 20 year old cried into the night. Given that this describes most of my neighbors, the Fear was unnoticeable at first, infinitesimal in comparison to my expectations, I immediately fell back to sleep, "Its just drunk meep kids." But I am reminded of something, the Yell has resonated inside of me.
In just enough time for me to reach sleep paralysis, right at the moment the nerves seemed to flicker off, <big><big>"WOOOOO"</big></big> pierces through and suddenly I am the rodent paralyzed by his own adrenaline. Whatever I was reminded of is now Truly Scary. I have forgotten college kids and am now simply AFRAID and I CAN NOT MOVE. I am stuck, hanging in the void, waiting for my peripheral nervous system to fire back up, in seemingly an out of body state, having my spirit shanked by the Unmitigated Good Time someone is having.
To paint a clearer picture; I live right next to the university football stadium in one of the many "student ghettos." Our 4-plex is situated in between two houses which are both brimming with "Bro", or better yet
Whatever, I'm not expressing contempt or hatred; dudes are dudes. More importantly however, the two houses are populated by young men swearing allegiance to arcane symbols, even more importantly, the two harbor differing allegiances. I suppose fraternities are the closest thing privileged white dudes get to joining a gang...
Regardless, as I lay there trying to WILL MY BODY BACK TO LIFE, more voices are heard, yelling, cursing, and finally <big><big>"LETS meepING DO THIS"</big></big> ... At this point cerebellum finally kicks into gear and I am able to get up and look through the window. Unmitigated Good Time = FITE. <big><big>"WOOOOO"</big></big> One of the finest ladz from American Eagle wants to do the man dance with Ralph Lauren. Its 330 am, its Thursday night, and on the first night of the college weekend, in a town brimming with pointless meep, two unlucky frat boys mean to do each other harm. And they do as much, punches are thrown, a window is broken, but no real victor. Much to my disappointment, the rest of the broskies break it up, which is weird, as the appearance of more white ball caps and north face jackets initially convinced me that FITE would lead to full on BATTLE. And that mothermeeper kept on yelling to boot. But alas, the campus cop, perched across the street, guarding our beloved stadium from skateboarders and Al Qaeda, may have scared them off while sleeping in his car. Or maybe Kansas is meeping weak.... (end of story, Vasudeva thinks to himself)
As I lay back down, thoroughly disappointed that precious minutes of slumber had been wasted, I could not get the Yell out of my mind. Why did this echo through my mind? Why did I hear myself Yelling; what did this Yell mean?
Every man has a Yell; it doesnt necessarily sound like <big><big>"WOOOOO"</big></big>, and it may not even be a noise produced by ones' vocal chords. It is not so much a noise but a feeling one gets when something absolutely Good has occurred or is about to occur through no other reason than one's own volition. The Yell has reminded me of that something, that Unmitigated Good Time, that is FREEDOM, it is WIN. The Yell reminded me of gunfire. It reminded me of the first time I rode a motorcycle. It reminded me of being 13 and jumping off the roof and sledding and breaking things JUST BECAUSE I CAN.
I know now why men are buying firearms; the Fear that ran through me in the wake of the frat boy's Yell made mine meep run north, my blood run cold. Men are afraid of Freedom unbound by morality or laws. They arent afraid of the homeless stealing their property; they are afraid hearing the Yell while someone forcibly enters their wife. Men are afraid of hearing the Yell while someone crushes their skull. Men are afraid because Freedom is a closed system:
"The weak ones are there to justify the strong"
At 3:30 in the morning we're all helpless.
The Yell still echoes, both frightening and inspiring.