July 23, 2003

Checks and Balances

“The punch is the pull.” You say it to yourself even though you’re short of breath. You’ve just sprinted six blocks in the middle of the night because, in some flawed dream, terrible visions passed through you. You come to a halting stop outside her window, slipping the last step and falling on the wet concrete. You don’t mind because there are more important things to be considered.

“What does it mean? The punch is the pull? That makes no fucking sense.” Nonetheless, the words are burned into your thoughtstream, clipping away at every nerve that tries to supply your brain with contradictive theories. You shake your head hard, thinking that it’ll somehow knock sense into your skull. It’s like kicking the VCR to fix the blinking 12:00—brute force is only a temporary solution.

But a temporary solution is better than nothing at all. Rain starts pouring, and you start shivering. You left home without your jacket, and now you’re numb to the core. But you think to yourself that there are more important things to be considered.

The girl. The life. The money. The success.

Your life is a cliché. You wake up and think about tomorrow. You fall in love and wonder how long it’ll last. You hope. Mistakes become your defense mechanism for a brighter future. You cling to a pair of sun-drenched sandals that she wore when you met her under the boardwalk. You started singing in memory of the Drifters, but you weren’t Ben E. King. You expected perfect, white picket fences and a son who plays ball with you in the summer. You expected a 25th anniversary wedding celebration. You expected grandchildren named after you, and the most expensive coffin money can buy. But you never learned.

Never expect perfect. Rain will always fall.

« Life in a Box

the first few lines dragged me in. Many a night, on my way home from a party, drunk as f**k, i have gotten this bizare notion into my head that sprinting would be fun. I normally manage about 150 metres until i fall flat on my face, too drunk to put my arms out to coushon the fall. I tumble for a few yards until I come to a stop. Then, I feel 'the cold concrete' on my face as i use my forehead as a pivot point to get my weary body to an upright position to conquer the rest of the journey home.
I have lost one shoe and 3 shirt sleeves on nights like these.

I enjoyed your writing.

"The punch is the pull"
an interesting phrase. One can surmise several conclusions to what it means, each based on personal experience...

In my case, the punch pulls me closer to a woman. Rejection draws me nearer for fear of being cast off as not being good enough and being exposed to the world as a lesser-than.

We all long for acceptance and, unfortunately, too often take punches in return of our emotional pull.

Just my interpretation.

great piece.

hello, mate. its been a while. hope you're keeping well. i confess this is more a quick way of keeping in touch than me commenting on your writings. but i have a long day ahead of me, so i'll come back i'm sure. hope the power outage didnt effect you too much.

the punch is the pull.........i guess what it means is it's like a fight. with the first punch, it drags it into something bigger......the actual fight if you will. you date a girl, nothing would've happened but she gives this passionate kiss, that's the punch, and it pulls you into.........whatever you kids do nowadays