Tuesday, February 11, 2014

A narrative I had to write for class, thought it came out well.

    I Guess My Race is Run

A tapping on glass woke me up from a frigid and miserable sleep on a thin 

mattress; utter confusion filled my head as I pulled the thin wool blanket over me to 

block the fluorescent light that persisted on keeping me awake. I wanted so badly to 

close my eyes and wake up in my own bed and believe that I was not sitting in a jail cell, 

but the harder I tried the more I started to remember glimpses of how I had gotten there 

the previous night. I sat up and pulled the rough grey blanket around my shoulders to 

face the correctional officer who was trying to tell me that my bail had been posted and I 

was to be released within the hour. 

    Thoughts started to race through my head faster than I could comprehend them. 

The faster they appeared the more fleeting they became. How did I get here? How am 

I getting released? Do I still have a job, when I had no way to call out? As I curl back 

up into the corner of the cell to look out of the window and watch the new arrests start 

to trickle in for the night I started to analyze my physical state. All of my jewelry and 

personal possessions were gone, my mouth was dry and tacky, and then I turned my 

gaze down to my hands. My left hand was stained with blue chalk between my middle 

and forefinger, but that was not surprising since I had been playing pool at the bar the 

night before. What caught my eye next was the state of my wrists, which were covered 

in scabs and swollen, I must have been fighting the cuffs the night before. 

    While starring down at my hands I blocked everything else out, nothing seemed to 

be able to break me from this trance. A stern voice spoke “Fields,” and broke my gaze, 

the Corrections officer told me he had been calling my name for a few minutes, he was 

ready to escort me outside. The cuffs were put back on with a dull pain as scabs were 

re-opened. I was taken to the gate just as the sun was setting, the heat of the day was 

melting away. I was handed a bag with all of my possessions as I starred in confusion 

with no idea of what I was supposed to do. I quickly snapped back and walked out of 

the fence still in a haze of disbelief. 

    I looked towards the parking lot to see my roommate Tom and my girlfriend Alex 

standing outside of our white Buick Lesabre. I felt the first hint of freedom as a 

tremendous burden rose from my shoulders, but weighed heavy on my mind. The 

doors of the car were open as I approached, and I heard the song that was playing 

from the stereo, “I fought the law, and the law won” by The Clash. As happy as I was 

for being out I could not hold a smile for long. Tom noticed and handed me the bottle of 

whiskey, and for the first time in years I handed it back without taking a sip. I, along with 

everyone, was in utter bewilderment as I heard myself say “This is the last hangover I 

am ever going to have.”   

Thursday, February 6, 2014


              I am going to go on a self entitles cyclist rant because today on my way home I had a guy open his door and start yelling at me about getting out of the road and I am proud of the way that I handled it instead of yelling at him or getting off my bike to beat the shit out of him. He yelled at me to get out of the road and all I said back was "I have the same rights you do."

              I do not think people understand that cyclists have every right that a car does, I can take up a whole lane if I deem it necessary. I am nice enough most of the time to stay as far to the edge as possible but not if I do not think it is safe. I do not think people will ever learn that you are in no way in so much of a rush to endanger another human being... nothing is so important that you need to yell at someone for doing something completely within their rights. Would you drive on the sidewalk and mow down people walking just because you're late for work, which is your own fault in the first place? Maybe I just care too much about other people to understand how these ignorant, for lack of a better term, fucks that cant wrap their head around the fact that if I do not take the space that I need while riding I could seriously get hurt.

             That's all I have for today, gotta go to work, had about 5 minutes to write this between class and work. Keep That PMA. Be kind to others, put them before yourself.