CHARLES BRONSON

My Dear Sister’s Birthday, Day

(Dec 17/05)
I awoke this morning from pitiful dreams with a charley horse in the i-beam of my shoulder, where cupola meets limbic pentameter. It felt like I had Charlie Bronson rousting bad guys from poltroonery dreams of car jacking, thieving and general flagitiousness. (Big words, poltroon mind).

But will there be many people honest enough to admit that it is a pleasure to inflict pain? That not infrequently one amuses himself (and well) by offending other men (at least in his thoughts) and by shooting pellets of petty malice at them?
(Fred Nietzsche, Human All Too Human)

The German term for getting enjoyment out of watching someone other than oneself in pain and discomfort, is Schadenfreude: glee in another’s misfortune. Interesting that the suffix is Freud with an e.

I am doing my laundry, one paltry load of denims, a nylon windbreaker, black, ankle-length and regular length socks, all white, a few arrant t-shirts, red and brown, and my Ikean bath towel, harridan red lipstick red. After which, I am off by public transit to the Salivation Commando store to browse for books, secondhand outfits that have not been vomited on, whatnots, and shiny things. After which, I am to attend a Noel party (as my friend is French Canadian French) where I will no doubt glut myself on an varied assortment of Christmas breads; some with green cherries and hard candies that are never easy to digest; mutton, potato chips and nutmeats; and whatever is within reaching distance. After which, I will no doubt sleep the sleep of the greedy, bulimic and ill tempered. Of course should the opportunity present itself, I will take glee in another’s misfortune, sore belly, and sadness over having one’s car car jacked by Charles Bronson, who sadly enough is dead and unable to jack anything worth jacking, even were he alive to jack things that are deemed worthy of jacking, or otherwise. And before I forget for a second year in a row, Happy Birthday, dearest sister.