Wow, people genuinly can be nice... (10/08/07)
I've lived by the rule of people being arseholes for the best part of my teenage life, and for the most part I still believe I'm right.
Today is saturday... technically sunday, but I'm still working from yesterday's clock. My cousin phoned me and asked me if I wanted to go out, my girlfriend allowed me to drink (despite my giving up alcohol... nothing like support, is there?) and off I went! I've only had a couple of pints, therefore I'm still sober, however I'm drunk enough not to actually give a shit.
I met my cousin at Haymarket metro station, went along to Luckies bar and proceeded to have a glass of double vodka and red... something or other, I don't remember, my memory has always been a crock of shit. Anyways, I had, what they called John Smiths (though it tasted more like lager) and proceeded to go and meet a friend of a friend in the notorious Bigg Market of Newcastle Upon Tyne. Now, I shaved my head and religously wear my Leather Jacket, therefore I look quite scary.
New paragraph.
However! A certain fat fuck of a bouncer didn't seem to think so! He asked my friend for identification, proving he was of legal age to drink (Please note: He was in perfect hearing range of me when I said "You go and get Tim, Me, Dom and Swalesy will stay out here."), and my friend (Bailey) gave him such identification! Apparantly, 18 years of age (the legal age of alcohol consumption in Britain) was not good enough in a bar that only allowed 'over 21's'.
This annoyed me, but I cared a lot less as Bailey attempted to phone Tim.
Remember, I had no intention at all of going into this shitty nightclub. Even for the Bigg Market, it was a heap of shit.
I stood talking to Dom and Swalesy for a bit and suddenly a bouncer (A fat fucker) decided that he didn't like 'the cut of my jip', as it were, and decided to engorge in an argument with me! According to him, I was flailing my arms around in the air while calling his good friend (the skinny fucker) every bad thing ever to exist under the sun.
At the time, we were actually talking about Tim hurrying up so we could top up our alcohol-blood levels.
Anyway, he asked me if I would enjoy a swing at him (For all of those who don't quite understand English slang, that is "If I would enjoy to punch him."), I admitted that I would love to, if only he would walk around the back of the pub with me.
You should know by now I have little to no respect for bouncers (See "I admit it, DragonForce really is a good band." in... February?), and this fucker was exactly the same. He backed down until I walked away... then he opened his mouth again. I turned and told him (in as many words) to 'Fuck off'. He took the hint and said not a word.
Nothing much happened until we left a bar called Trillians, assuming to get into a club called 'Krash', or 'The Venue'.
REMEMBER! If they put the stamp on your hand, you're as good as in!
I've never had an issue with getting into Krash... ever! I first went when I was like, 15! I had a skinhead then (as I do now, the hair is long gone) and they let me in, now? I'm too young!
I gave the fuckers my Student I.D! Not valid.
I gave them my birth certificate! Not valid.
To prove my name, I gave a recent bank statement! Still did not prove I was 18.
... what the fuck?
I asked them to phone the police! Oh no, they couldn't do that.
REMEMBER! My hand was already stamped at this point, they stamped my hand and THEN asked for I.D!
Oh!
ALSO REMEMBER! They have my C.V (Resumé) as I'm currently seeking employment... they couldn't deny the fact I was 18!
Anyway, under the assumption that the stamp granted access, I entered... to be punched by the bouncer.
What did I do? I hit the fucker back, is what I did! The arsehole knows me and he still denied me access! After a swift kick in the balls, my steel capped boots proved the betters of him and he went down like a bag of shit in a very high gravitational enviroment.
Motherfucker start shit with me, I'll kill him!
My dad (who joined us at Trillians) naturally kicked off as he had paid the both of us in (Granted, they gave him the money back, but still, I was assaulted by a QUALIFIED BOUNCER!). I phoned Dom off my dads phone to tell him that I'd had a bit of an argument with the bouncer and that I'd gone home. On the way to the Taxi Rank me and my father met a pisshead!
As it happens a rather nice and genuine pisshead.
Anyway, my dad started talking to him and I soon followed suit. He was pissed off after being attacked by a bunch of students (coming out of the only student bar that isn't built into a college/university), and having his shirt ripped off in the fray. I naturally pittied him and even offered my own shirt off my own back for him to save him walking about without... well, anything on top, really.
After about 15 minutes my dad went to order a taxi as this guy (Rob, his name was) showed me his tattoo's. One for each of his two daughters, one for his woman and one for his aunty. The only reason I began writing this entry is because of this guy, he really sobered me up.
I believe tattoo's to be a tribal and almost spiritual thing, which is why I've not had one yet (despite the opportunities to get them done). The one tat I've really wanted in a long time is Mjollnir (Thor's Hammer) on my left breast (on my heart, which is to prove my devotion to Odinism) and this guy had the tat for is aunty (by far the most grand and, quite literally, beautiful) on his left breast.
Story is, his mother was a bit of a bitch (like 70% of women) and he ended up closer to his aunty than he really should have been. I understood this as for a long time I've felt it was easier to talk to my Nanna than my mother... don't ask me why. Anyway, they always said that they would always get married (assumably a joke... otherwise it was just nasty...) and he was asked (by his cousin's) to be a Pall (sp?) Bearer at his aunt's funeral... she had, at this point, died of cancer... something nobody should ever have to go through.
He agreed and couldn't remember anything about that funeral... simply because he was saying to himself over and over again; "I always thought I'd take you down the aisle... but never in this way...". I hate to say it but tears stung my eyes. I don't think I've ever had an issue with death but him saying this to me reminding me of my Grandma's death. She died of cancer and (though young) it brought all those memories back to me. Watching her lie in her bed (which was brought downstairs, into the living room) with (what I now know as) the death rattle shaking her body.
At the time, I just wanted her to cough... I thought it was a symptom of a phlegmy throat.
I remembered vividly her last words to me, which was quite simply, "I love you, be successful."... shit, at that age, I didn't even know what that meant! Success? Just another word I had to look up. I was certain no tears leaked down my cheeks, but it was enough to make me feel it.
Anyway, it ended up in him taking my hand and putting it on his tattoo (On the left breast, for his aunty). To me that meant more than anything I'd ever wanted. That was true acceptance. By placing my hand on that tattoo that meant the memory of his aunt, his two daughters (which he actually said) and most of all his heart.
As homosexual as this sounds, it's actually very deep and meaningful.
The word 'gay' meant nothing at that point in time. His heart was marked by ink, and my hand was on it... I don't care what anybody says, that was a beautiful moment. To be able to meet somebody so pure as to be able to do and understand what he did to me takes a lot of time and effort. He was a true person and a person who would accept anybody if they proved themselves to him. He is somebody all should want to be like.
Nobody in this world is important until they understand the value of human life, you aren't any better than me (of course I'm better than you, but shit! I'm fucking Thump!) and you aren't any better than anybody else, be yourself and take people for what they are. If they're arseholes, kick their fucking arse in the name of truth. If they're genuine, savour them... you won't meet many of those people in your lifetime.
Just think about that before your emails come flooding at me.
Today is saturday... technically sunday, but I'm still working from yesterday's clock. My cousin phoned me and asked me if I wanted to go out, my girlfriend allowed me to drink (despite my giving up alcohol... nothing like support, is there?) and off I went! I've only had a couple of pints, therefore I'm still sober, however I'm drunk enough not to actually give a shit.
I met my cousin at Haymarket metro station, went along to Luckies bar and proceeded to have a glass of double vodka and red... something or other, I don't remember, my memory has always been a crock of shit. Anyways, I had, what they called John Smiths (though it tasted more like lager) and proceeded to go and meet a friend of a friend in the notorious Bigg Market of Newcastle Upon Tyne. Now, I shaved my head and religously wear my Leather Jacket, therefore I look quite scary.
New paragraph.
However! A certain fat fuck of a bouncer didn't seem to think so! He asked my friend for identification, proving he was of legal age to drink (Please note: He was in perfect hearing range of me when I said "You go and get Tim, Me, Dom and Swalesy will stay out here."), and my friend (Bailey) gave him such identification! Apparantly, 18 years of age (the legal age of alcohol consumption in Britain) was not good enough in a bar that only allowed 'over 21's'.
This annoyed me, but I cared a lot less as Bailey attempted to phone Tim.
Remember, I had no intention at all of going into this shitty nightclub. Even for the Bigg Market, it was a heap of shit.
I stood talking to Dom and Swalesy for a bit and suddenly a bouncer (A fat fucker) decided that he didn't like 'the cut of my jip', as it were, and decided to engorge in an argument with me! According to him, I was flailing my arms around in the air while calling his good friend (the skinny fucker) every bad thing ever to exist under the sun.
At the time, we were actually talking about Tim hurrying up so we could top up our alcohol-blood levels.
Anyway, he asked me if I would enjoy a swing at him (For all of those who don't quite understand English slang, that is "If I would enjoy to punch him."), I admitted that I would love to, if only he would walk around the back of the pub with me.
You should know by now I have little to no respect for bouncers (See "I admit it, DragonForce really is a good band." in... February?), and this fucker was exactly the same. He backed down until I walked away... then he opened his mouth again. I turned and told him (in as many words) to 'Fuck off'. He took the hint and said not a word.
Nothing much happened until we left a bar called Trillians, assuming to get into a club called 'Krash', or 'The Venue'.
REMEMBER! If they put the stamp on your hand, you're as good as in!
I've never had an issue with getting into Krash... ever! I first went when I was like, 15! I had a skinhead then (as I do now, the hair is long gone) and they let me in, now? I'm too young!
I gave the fuckers my Student I.D! Not valid.
I gave them my birth certificate! Not valid.
To prove my name, I gave a recent bank statement! Still did not prove I was 18.
... what the fuck?
I asked them to phone the police! Oh no, they couldn't do that.
REMEMBER! My hand was already stamped at this point, they stamped my hand and THEN asked for I.D!
Oh!
ALSO REMEMBER! They have my C.V (Resumé) as I'm currently seeking employment... they couldn't deny the fact I was 18!
Anyway, under the assumption that the stamp granted access, I entered... to be punched by the bouncer.
What did I do? I hit the fucker back, is what I did! The arsehole knows me and he still denied me access! After a swift kick in the balls, my steel capped boots proved the betters of him and he went down like a bag of shit in a very high gravitational enviroment.
Motherfucker start shit with me, I'll kill him!
My dad (who joined us at Trillians) naturally kicked off as he had paid the both of us in (Granted, they gave him the money back, but still, I was assaulted by a QUALIFIED BOUNCER!). I phoned Dom off my dads phone to tell him that I'd had a bit of an argument with the bouncer and that I'd gone home. On the way to the Taxi Rank me and my father met a pisshead!
As it happens a rather nice and genuine pisshead.
Anyway, my dad started talking to him and I soon followed suit. He was pissed off after being attacked by a bunch of students (coming out of the only student bar that isn't built into a college/university), and having his shirt ripped off in the fray. I naturally pittied him and even offered my own shirt off my own back for him to save him walking about without... well, anything on top, really.
After about 15 minutes my dad went to order a taxi as this guy (Rob, his name was) showed me his tattoo's. One for each of his two daughters, one for his woman and one for his aunty. The only reason I began writing this entry is because of this guy, he really sobered me up.
I believe tattoo's to be a tribal and almost spiritual thing, which is why I've not had one yet (despite the opportunities to get them done). The one tat I've really wanted in a long time is Mjollnir (Thor's Hammer) on my left breast (on my heart, which is to prove my devotion to Odinism) and this guy had the tat for is aunty (by far the most grand and, quite literally, beautiful) on his left breast.
Story is, his mother was a bit of a bitch (like 70% of women) and he ended up closer to his aunty than he really should have been. I understood this as for a long time I've felt it was easier to talk to my Nanna than my mother... don't ask me why. Anyway, they always said that they would always get married (assumably a joke... otherwise it was just nasty...) and he was asked (by his cousin's) to be a Pall (sp?) Bearer at his aunt's funeral... she had, at this point, died of cancer... something nobody should ever have to go through.
He agreed and couldn't remember anything about that funeral... simply because he was saying to himself over and over again; "I always thought I'd take you down the aisle... but never in this way...". I hate to say it but tears stung my eyes. I don't think I've ever had an issue with death but him saying this to me reminding me of my Grandma's death. She died of cancer and (though young) it brought all those memories back to me. Watching her lie in her bed (which was brought downstairs, into the living room) with (what I now know as) the death rattle shaking her body.
At the time, I just wanted her to cough... I thought it was a symptom of a phlegmy throat.
I remembered vividly her last words to me, which was quite simply, "I love you, be successful."... shit, at that age, I didn't even know what that meant! Success? Just another word I had to look up. I was certain no tears leaked down my cheeks, but it was enough to make me feel it.
Anyway, it ended up in him taking my hand and putting it on his tattoo (On the left breast, for his aunty). To me that meant more than anything I'd ever wanted. That was true acceptance. By placing my hand on that tattoo that meant the memory of his aunt, his two daughters (which he actually said) and most of all his heart.
As homosexual as this sounds, it's actually very deep and meaningful.
The word 'gay' meant nothing at that point in time. His heart was marked by ink, and my hand was on it... I don't care what anybody says, that was a beautiful moment. To be able to meet somebody so pure as to be able to do and understand what he did to me takes a lot of time and effort. He was a true person and a person who would accept anybody if they proved themselves to him. He is somebody all should want to be like.
Nobody in this world is important until they understand the value of human life, you aren't any better than me (of course I'm better than you, but shit! I'm fucking Thump!) and you aren't any better than anybody else, be yourself and take people for what they are. If they're arseholes, kick their fucking arse in the name of truth. If they're genuine, savour them... you won't meet many of those people in your lifetime.
Just think about that before your emails come flooding at me.
posted by Thump at 9:57 am
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