Friday, February 25, 2005


A good friend of mine asked me the other night where all my anger came from. I was sort of taken by surprise - I hadn't noticed an inordinate amount of anger lately, I've actually been fairly content. He told me his question was based on a recent post on my blog, and said it made me sound like a very angry person.

Well, to be honest I am a fairly emotional person. I resent it when I'm wronged and I'm protective of my family. But the honest truth is, it's just a blog.

The other day I had a couple of hours free and decided to go to a little Irish pub in our neighborhood. This guy at the bar was drunk and getting loud... and he wouldn't leave me alone. He kept asking me about my nationality and mocking the shirt I was wearing. Finally I had had enough, got up, spun him around and slugged him hard, square in the gut. He doubled over, and when he did I elbowed him on the back. At nearly the same time, the bartender came across the bar and subdued the guy... and we were both escorted from the bar. A guy shouldn't insult another man's nationality or his clothing - and frankly it pissed me off the point that I exploded!

That was a lie. Many times in the world of fictional writing, both professional and blog, we embellish a story to elicit a reaction. I get bored and feel the need to shake things up.

I should tell you I DID go to Frailey's and DID have a discussion with a guy at the bar about my shirt and where I was from. He WASN'T drunk, we DIDN'T fight, it was friendly and brief. But the story was better in it's embellished form.

I don't enhance all my entries - most of them are dead on. But don't get the wrong idea, my blog is an outlet for creativity as much as a release for me.

Besides, I'd rather get pissed off and write it down... than take it out on a poor guy at the bar.


OldHorsetailSnake said...

The way I heard it was that "the poor guy at the bar" whipped your ass. But, what the hell, it's your blog.

Dave Morris said...

Again, I was embellishing. But the doctor says I'll be back at 100 percent before I know it.

Kerouaced said...

You had me going there for a second. The scenario you laid out was very accurate. I've had the drunk obnoxious guy at the bar bothering me until I felt like punching him...not that I ever did. Well, not unless he hit me first.

~kimberly~ said...

Im glad that was a lie. My respect for you started to spiral downward real quick like. I cannot stand physical fights. What do they prove? "I dont like your ideas"..."oh yeah, well, I can hit harder than you can, so I win!" ...Win what? Who cares if your ideas differ? Its what makes the world go 'round. Create and release like crazy Mr Seagull, but please, make sure i know its a lie at the end if you are gonna play the "rough & tumble" character!!

Dave Morris said...

Aw, come on... isn't a scrappy fighting man sort of a turn-on? Nothing like a guy who gets in a bar fight and goes home to let his woman (kimberly) clean the nose-blood off his face and out of his shirt.

No, I'm not the fighting type. I've fought before when I had to, but usually my words are my best weapon.

Ever been in a cat fight?

~kimberly~ said...

LOL - Actually..if ya came home to me with a nose shake my head and point to the outdoor garden hose and say "you made the mess, you clean it up..and dont get any blood on my grass!!" - The "bad boy/tough guy" image that women enojoy, is a temporary thing. They are good for scandelous vacations, one night stands and perhaps wild weekends. But that kinda guy isnt a "keeper", at least not to me. I prefer someone that challenges my intelligence..not someone that needs to stop for a breather after saying words with more than one syllable.

As for the cat-fight ..*sighs*.. yes, and i think i shall blog on it tonight, and enlighten you with the horrid details. Warning, prepared to be disappointed! LOL

Dr. Mike said...

Honestly, I was at Frailey's bar when it all happened. Here's the real story:

I was eating corned beef & cabbage with extra cinnamon), stoking a Macanudo, and sipping a brew when Dave said, "Look! I can blow smoke-rings." Well, one out of two wasn't bad (much smoke, no rings!). Dave then snuck away from the table to the Men's room, and CLOGGED the commode. He came out bragging about his "Monster Torp that choked the pipes" when our waitress kicked his ass and made him plunge the toilet with his pathetic plaid shirt. And unless "Jerk-face" is a race, I don't think there were any nationality remarks.

It was a good time.

Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

Blogging without hyperbole is like cake without frosting.