jungggg/pavlov: "only reason i hit 'er cause she kept talkin greasy"

FROM June 23, 2005

Lyric courtesy Remy Martin, soundtrack courtesy Summer Madness (yes, it really is that good--for one, 50 gets mashed sensitive over the PM Dawn song from the Boomerang soundtrack--and that's just the beginning?). Summer Madness courtesy my HBO bootleg BFF and your favorite blogger, Chris. PayPal him some love okthx.

Last night I dreamed I told this lady I know something really personal, the most personal thing, the glowing pebble/time-bomb in my heart that only the people who've lived inside my right ventricle know about me, essentially. I dreamed I let her in on the secret, and a few days later, she casually mentioned it later to a group of like, 9 people, like no biggie, whatever. Like it was gossip. My response, of course, was to leap over the table and pound her face. It was unsettling--meeting trust-betrayal w/violence? way to go, subconscious--and also since I haven't been in a fistfight since 1993, the feeling of physically harming someone, essentially as a marquee ad for my own pain 'n' sadness, was both alarming and alarmingly familiar. I wish I didn't know what it felt like.

So yeah, if anyone has flagrantly told you anything personal about me recently--forwarded emails, gossiped about my secret affection for flax seeds and grapeseed oil, dropped the bomb on my OCD, you know, that kind of thing--please report to the principal's office. I'll be squashed and juiced like a bloodorange out in the school parking lot.

But it made me curious; I want to know peoples' youth fist-fight stories: how old were you, why did you do it and what was the emotion behind it? Was it self defense? What were you hiding/reacting to? Blog it and send me the link or write me a story. I love you.

In pavlovian news, I have finally heard that stupid Bobby Valentino song enough that when it comes on, I get excited.