Violence and non-violence January 4, 2007Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.
Flipping biological clocks. Radio 4 hasn’t even started yet and here I am, up with the lark, waiting for daylight to hit, and wondering what to do. I’ve already had breakfast, painted the nursery, washed the Astra and checked the stone-cladding for signs of wear and tear. Have just finished a piece of work, so can’t seek solace in brain-numbing translation. No, it’s got to be blogging.
And why not? For it’s 2007, after all, and those 2006 posts are so, well, 2006. Trouble is, I couldn’t have had a much less eventful transition. And couldn’t have less news. Which doesn’t bode well for the rest of the year. If it’s meaning to go on as we started, then it’s going to be boring… but with a quiver of fear.
The Russian and I went to visit pals for New Year. Our hosts were a couple – a man and a woman. Imagine! – but because they both do vaguely languagey things, everyone they know is gay. So their New Year’s party was them and five poofs. I think they were a bit exhausted with all the cackling, cor-inne-gorgeous!-es, and looking for Kylie on youtube by the time the evening drew to a close. We eventually made ourselves scarce in one homosexual group.
As it was only about 7am, we naturally decided it was much too early to go home. One of the queer quintet broke ranks and abandoned us but the Russian and I and the two others soldiered on heroically. And just as we were nearing a homosexual establishment, there was violence. Imagine(again)! I’m not even 12! An extremely drunk and huge gentleman barged into one of our pals and then embarked on the loudest and longest tirade I have ever heard. We were bemused and mystified. He had somehow garnered – no idea how – that we were homosexuals and squeezed a gay angle into his insults. And as we walked away – me, funnily enough, at the front of the group and setting a cracking pace – he carried on, rantily suggesting we have fisticuffs. Which was brave of him, if a tad mad. And boring. And ruined the rest of my evening (morning).
There are things one hates and one likes about oneself with greater clarity as life plods on. Personally, I only have bad points but I have, when challenged, occasionally been known to claim that two aspects I can tolerate about myself are a) that I’m a poof and b) that I’m an atheist. Which aren’t achievements, but anyway. Time to add c). I’m so glad I’ve never bothered to get involved in violence.
Mind you, living in peaceful and quietful Berlin, I have to say this is the first nasty moment I’ve had in five years here, apart from having the odd Arschloch-insult shouted at me, normally by people on bikes when I have transgressed some tenet of geographical etiquette. And fear, for I was scared, even though we were four and he was one, had become a completely forgotten emotion.
Still, no moral to the non-story. Just a drunk Arschloch. But I DID wonder out loud to the Russian that I wouldn’t be THAT sad if he’d bulgakovianly fallen under a tram twenty seconds after the incident. So perhaps I’m nastier than he was.