My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

Over in the Richmond, City of, a bunch of high schoolers gang raped a girl. Pulled a train as they say. When they try to make it sound cool. When you’re a tough guy. Over here in The Richmond District someone keeps stealing the scrap metal I hide in the bushes alongside my house. I get so angry. I have what I call “justice fantasies”. I have a CCTV security camera – I’m going to set up and bust this guy.

The Flagpoles played a show last night and I got so lost in my justice fantasy about the little kid who pulled that knife on me that I ended up getting on the highway before I realized I wasn’t supposed to be on no highway. Doug and the boys riding in the darkness of the box truck called me up in the cab and asked why it was taking so long to get there. I didn’t explain the whole thing. Would’ve been weird: “Got thinking about justifiable murder….spaced out….”

I was going through it in my head, “Should I buy a gun? What if I shot and killed a 15 year old who tried to stab me because his life is so fucked up he doesn’t care? That’d still feel bad. Ok. No gun. A knife of my own? I hate having things clipped onto my belt. Ok. No knife.”

Then it came to me. I’ll be like that transvestite who stepped into a cab some other guy hailed for himself. When he confronted her, she pepper sprayed his face. But not pepper spray. Bear repellant. The strongest stuff out there, sold at REI for backpackers to fight off Grizzlies. That little Mexican boy with fake diamond studs in his ears would be screaming and running into parked cars, clawing at his eyes. He wouldn’t be coming at me saying, “I got Norta at my back.” It would be nonsensical pain induced gibberish about his burning eyes. My cell rang. It was Doug. “Where are we?”

When a group of boys get together, they start throwing rocks at a sign. Or a bottle. Or a girl. I was a boy. I’m a man now. Doesn’t mean I understand how we work.

This is a confused jumble of thoughts, and I beg your pardon for that. I’m trying to rediscover what tough guy means to me in light of recent personal and local news events. Or to ask it another way, “How am I supposed to act?”