Do What You Feel Friday!: Calm the Fuck Down!

May 22, 2009 at 9:05 pm | Posted in DWYFF!, Lowell, Muzak, Video | 5 Comments
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bookendsToday marks the much-anticipated return of Do What You Feel Friday, Coach Football’s favorite blog feature and the preferred reading for his candle-lit mastubatory sessions*.

We’ve been dwelling on violence here at Lucy the Blog, in the wake of Tavyrna Chouen’s murder and my growing homicidal tendencies.  Last night, the face of violence quite literally showed up at our doorstep.  Hijinx did not ensue.

It came out of nowhere, really.  Ash was putting Nola to bed, and I was slogging through the wreckage of our home, trying to make sense of the chaos and clutter.  We’re having repairs done to flood damage in our bedroom and nursery, which required us to move everything into the office, where we all live like hobos under the glow of the iMac.  Because Ash can’t go to the studio, her painting gear is scattered about the living room, along with baby gymnasiums and chewed up dog toys.  All quite lovely.

It started with a few screams in the distance.  And then in seemingly no time at all, two grown men were rolling around our front yard, surrounded by a crowd of people cheering and hollaring, encircling the brawl like it was a cockfight.

Off to the side, I saw one of my neighbors, Ruben, who’s in the sixth or seventh grade.  He was a bit removed from the crowd, watching with an awestruck look that could have been admiration or fear.  Why must he see this?  It crushed me.  The police showed up eventually, but everyone had fled by that time, which is the case more often than not.

I’m not sure what the end-game is here.  Once the temperature starts to rise, you can feel the tension on the street follow — a situation that’s exasperated by the lack of jobs and the budget cuts to public safety and social services.  The city can’t even afford to let its employees work today!  But it’s not even June yet, people.  At this rate, the canals will flow with blood by Folk Fest.

So on this Do What You Feel Friday, I urge you all to CALM THE FUCK DOWN.

I need to follow this advice myself, because all jokes aside, I might be losing it.  It’s reflected by the recent uptick in cursing in this space.  But FUCK, man, it’s making me crazy!  The other night, there was a car idling outside, pumping its Latin hip-hop so loudly that it was shaking our book shelves.

This is not condusive toward calming the fuck down.  It’s condusive toward a nervous breakdown.  They’re rolling around on my lawn, punching each other in the face for God’s sake!  The very lawn where Lucy the Dog pisses every day.  Where Nola will have to play one day because we’ll never be able to get out from under this hellhole.  FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!

Calm the fuck down though.  Calm the fuck down.  But how can I be calm when Ashlee, of all people, says that incidents like last night make her consider buying a gun?  I was thinking the very same thing, but Ashlee?  My dear Chomsky-loving, tree-huggin, organic-eating, adorable little peacenik now harbors fantasies about packing heat?  What the fuck is going on here?  Why are we thinking about guns?  I don’t want a fucking gun! 

But I do!  Because then when there’s a mob on my front lawn, I could go outside brandishing it.  And I’d shoot into the air and yell or something.  Get out of here or I’m calling the cops!  What a disaster that would be.  Undoubtedly, they’d all laugh at me, and then I’d have to prove myself, so I’d aim at them, but just to the side, so the bullet scares them but hits the church across the street.  But that doesn’t stop them either, and now they’re bearing down on me, so FUCK, I unload that mother-fucker, and of course I’m so nervous that I miss and accidentally shoot Carmasita, who was on her way over to visit Nola and ask for a pickle.  And just like that, I’m imprisoned for life, alone for eternity with nothing but echoes of Carmasita’s dying gasps.  So I don’t think we’ll buy a gun.

But what will we do?  Nothing’s getting better.  This morning, during my walk to the train station, Shuffle Songs served up “Save the Life of My Child” by Simon & Garfunkel, a song that I like but would probably skip under other circumstances.  It felt appropriate today, however, as I walked by the flowers that still mark the spot where Chouen died.  “Save the life of my child/Cried the desparate mother/What’s becoming of the children/People asking each other.”

Something’s gotta give.  For now though, let’s take it one day at a time.  On this lovely Do What You Feel Friday, which we’re so blessed to be alive for, let’s chill the fuck out, please.  Whatever it takes.  If you need to poke some heroin into your eyes or sit in a room alone reading the Bible, do it.  Whatever.  Go visit grandma or rent Spaceballs.  Cook yourself a nice dinner. 

Just don’t be mean, OK?  For today.  Don’t punch any faces or curse anyone.  Do what you feel this Friday.  But do it calmly.  Listen to some Simon and Garfunkel.  Not “Save the Life of My Child,” either.  In this climate, even that song is too aggressive; it won’t take much to ignite a riot right now.  Listen to some hippy S&G instead, OK?  Just relax.  Deep breaths.  There you go…

There.  That’s better.

*Lucy the Dog would like to offer a special welcome to the person who, according to WordPress stats, found us by typing “Boston University masturbator” into a search engine.  Guilty as charged.

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5 Comments »

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  1. Arlington is a nice town…

    Your gun comments are exactly right. These yahoos that buy pieces to protect their house (Under Armour style) seem to think that watching The Punisher 12 times makes them certified bad-asses. The sad truth is that you’re more likely to hit air or innocents than plug some home invader or lawn-brawling hoodlum. Plus, little kids are curious as hell and twice as stupid.

  2. Here’s a story about guns and home protection you might find interesting: A recent houseguest from South Dakota, where they have a so-called “Castle Law” (as in, “My home is my castle and I’ll blow your fucking head off if you break into it and it’s self-defense.”), told us of a drunken college student who was trying to get into some guy’s house, thinking it was his own. After ignoring (or not hearing, or being too drunk to function – we’ll never know his side of the tale), the homeowner blew the kid away with a shotgun. Dead. And it’s self-defense in the Rushmore State, so there isn’t even a case to close. No charges filed. Gunz rulez!

  3. Candles? Lame. I use tiki torches.

  4. You know how in crappy movies where the protagonist is in a bind way over is head and realizes that his comic relief buddy knew what they were getting into and asks him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” and the buddy replies, “You didn’t ask THAT!” or some such cliched statement? Well, that’s kind of how I feel now after reading your last few posts. I think I’ve asked you each time we’ve come to Lowell, “Is it safe to park here?” to which you reply, “Um. Yeah.” Apparently I should have been asking, “Is it safe to park here AND not get caught in a front-yard knife fight OR mugged OR shot by your wife?”

    Let me know if there’s any bases I’m not covering.

  5. Thanks for this reminder. Well written my friend.


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