The other night, Ryan mentioned something about wasting away money on expensive call-girls. I said he if did that before paying me back the money he owes me I would strangle him. He then laughed, agreed and said if anyone did that they deserved to have their brains smashed in with a hammer or a bat or some heavy object, I can’t recall. This remark made me cringe, for I didn’t want to imagine bashing Ryan’s head in with a candlestick, rather I wanted to imagine strangling him almost to the point of death. His vision of violence was grotesque, where my vision, to me, seemed a deserving punishment for the hypothetical crime.
I don’t generally condone violence, but I can’t help but find some forms more romantic than others. For example, if I can imagine myself doing it, like truly performing the action, it isn’t gross. Basically anything done with my natural body, punching, slapping, pulling hair. These have a rustic, classic comprehension to them. Whereas spooning out someone’s eye or stripping off someone’s skin for your own new skin just gives me the willies’. I guess in some weird way I have compartmentalized violences that could potentially be deserving as opposed to violences that are just fucked up no matter what.
Another example is in the movie Hard Candy, staring the beautiful and talented Ellen Page. I feel quite a bit of tension for the man but also a deep enjoyment in his torture. Why? Because he’s a jackass rapist murderer and she’s just laying down the Karma.
Or in the movie Teeth, the main character (Jess Weixler) has Vagina Dentata –or vagina with teeth. Though the film plays up the humor angle of the horror-movie really well, when her vagina bits off the rapist’s dick I cheer, YAY! Because I logically and emotionally argue that rapists deserve to have their dicks ripped off—at least for awhile as a scare tactic; then a doctor can potentially sew it back on so the rapist can pee but can never again have sex, muhaha.
And of course, the violence in Fight Club. He (Norton/Pitt) starts off the moving by kicking his own ass, which, I have felt I needed to do to myself many times. He then rallies up a bunch of working class angry-at-the-world boys who go to an underground cement lair and let out all their inner rage on each other. And these boys who are covered in sweat, covered in muscle and covered in hot hot sexiness also battle for an anti-corporate, anti-material world, and I like that. Their violence is channeled into a cause that I support so I relate and I enjoy. But that’s not how I usually feel about the infliction of pain upon others.
And hence I have a recently realized that I have different levels of tolerance for different forms of violence. Underneath the tolerance exists elements of innocence and my personal perspective on rehabilitation—can the offender be “fixed”. I have to wonder how I developed the morality to mentally separate and accept or object one form of suffering over another. I then have to admit that I am a product of my environment and a part of that environment is packed with violent images that are sometimes romanticized to make them more acceptable and tolerable. Even if I could think of sensible substitutes to my initial strangulation response to that “hypothetical” whorehouse crime, violence was my initial and most solid imagined (mental) reaction ( then comes suing followed by passive aggressive manipulation).
Though in most circumstances I would choose an alternative angle to violence such as giving rapists an overdone of depo to knock off their sex drives, or talking through a problem in an attempt to come to a compromise, sometimes a left-hook –right uppercut hit to the face followed by a double time kick to the groin is really, to me, a viable (and sexy) solution.
Really. I think I just need to punch someone in the face. What is taebo and kick boxing and kenpo karate for if I never get to hit someone. Perhaps I get some aggression out, but how much anger can you release by punching the air? Why am I so angry? Well for one, Ryan is hypothetically cheating on me with expensive call girls.