Cops or Criminals

The air is cool, cool for California. Seventy-five degrees, the sky has as many stars as street lamps and Hollywood allows. The moon holds its half shape through the trees. I sit under the lamp at the corner of the street, my bare feet sitting in the street, the rough asphalt oddly comforting against my skin. I pull out a smoke, lighting it with my Statue of Liberty “Flick my Bic” lighter. I take a long, soothing inhale, pulling air through my nose and holding the mist of tobacco in my lungs for several seconds before blowing it into the blackness.

I’ve been unemployed for two months. Except for when I was in school, its the longest I’ve been without a job. In these two months, I’ve changed, I’ve grown, I’ve struggled. Big changes and even bigger trips down the rabbit hole. It hardens a man to know that the world he thought he had figured out left a few knives in his back before tossing him over the edge.

Four years prior, things felt better. Things had a purpose. A service to the people around me. A member of the elite fighters of evil. Soldier. Officer. Part of a brotherhood I never was a part of before. Underling. Subservient. Jackboot. The power, the thought of the power, was intoxicating. It was why many got in, or wanted to get in. I wanted to fight for something. I wanted to fight anything.

I fought on the intenet. Ideology. Politics. Picking sides and digging in. I fought in debates. I fought in essays, blogs, pictures and Facebook statuses. It empowered me and it shook me to my core. I attacked and defended. My confidence was so low I would be nervous reading responses. I didn’t know these people. I shouldn’t have cared a pig’s dick what they thought of me, but I did. Symptom of the systemic problem. I was breakable. I was glass. Fill me, dump me out, fill me again, toss me against the wall and I’ll shatter.

I look at the lighter, at the symbol of freedom and liberty used to sell fire, and grin. The country we live in is still free, as free as the world allows it. Trends are not just for bitches and fags and children. World leaders follow trends. They always have. They always will. Industrialization. Central banking. Eugenics. Global agenda. There are few things our betters won’t try. Its their job to control. It is our job to tell them to fuck off.

I’ve thought of delving into less that legal activity, mostly out of desperation. But that is when you get easuly caught and easily incarcerated. When desperation leads you, you do things that will bite you in the ass and put you away for a while, if not forever. Like any job, it has to be because you love it and
because you’re good at it. If that doesn’t factor in to the equation, then you’re fucked.

I realized there is never just two side, two ideas or two worlds. There are seven billion people and seven billion reasons and seven billion actions a second forming and flowing the river of human history. One bomb in Kabul or one dollar in London won’t do shit. Its the collective will of a million people under the control of one hard bastard with a selfish cause that does damage. Kill a schoolhouse, people will morn. Steal a bike, a kid will cry. Beat a dog PETA will harass you, but its all just singular actions. There is no law or reason or society. There is just your will and your actions. You and you alone.

It is a rare moment when a man overcomes the indoctrination of his ancestors and moves forward beyond their narrow world view. Many I know have done it, but we are a small brotherhood of distant individuals happy to go our own way past the human need to herd itself into extinction.

Someone I know, someone close to me, has problems. I’ve known her for a decade. I help her, out of the goodness of my heart. I could do bad. I could tell her to break it off, follow me and be mine. I wish I could, but despite the calls of my dick and the calls of my head and heart, its not the right thing to do, not yet. There are a million reasons and a million solutions and a million moments I could justify the lesser actions with, but I won’t. Not today. Not right now. What I wouldn’t give to see her kneeling… what I wouldn’t give to see her happy. This is where I should moan or whine, but these are my actions and fuck me if I’ll regret a single one.

As the movie says, we can be cops or criminals, and when we’re facing a loaded gun, a loaded question or the choice between a good deed or a bad choice, what is the difference? We are all human. We are all individuals. We are all lost and never to be found. It matters not what we think, but what we do. And what we do is ours and ours alone. No government, no priest, no significant other or parent can tell us otherwise.

I toss the smoke into the street, put the pack and the patriotic lighter back into my pocket. I stand, looking for Orion in the sky, but fail to see him. There really isn’t much to say anymore. Nothing at all. I look towards Central Ave, thinking I may go strong arm someone for their cash, or just take a walk and ignore the bleats.

I can do whatever I want.

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4 responses to “Cops or Criminals

  1. Pingback: Linkage is Good for You: Something Something Edition

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