Hitherto -- up to now -- I’ve been waxing all positive and glowing about how things were back in the day we were carving our name in the annals of ‘80’s folkrockdom. You see, I’ve always had a difficult time facing conflict, dealing with conflict, writing about conflict. . . though I must admit I have probably created a lot of my own conflicts.
And when in one of “those” moods, I’ve been called a Jack Russell terrier of conflict -- small, loud, and mouthy. When I get mad, get moving!
Truth is, it DOES take two to tangle (I don’t tango) and friction is an essential part of life. Without it, nothing is created. Even babies are created by friction between male & female. . . not to get too deep or literal here. At any rate, try as I have to not be part of the problem, sometimes when I come up with solutions they aren’t always agreeable to others or part of the agenda -- thusly, CONFLICT rears its ugly head, big or little.
Even now, I’m pussyfooting around because I shudder at the feelings that difficulties -- conflicts -- create. I’m conflicted about letting loose and showing my true DARK feelings. . . you might think I’m a beast, a monster, not “nice.”
ENOUGH! Just so you know, I’m very human. I am so emotional I try to go the other way and be logical/stonefaced. Stoic, in fact. It’s self protection.
One night, before the Squares began, at the old Hurrah’s club (or was it the Peppermint Lounge or Danceteria?) I was introduced to Richard, from one of those snotty new wave Brit bands. He called me “Stone faced” -- to my face -- and I was in a really bad mood, so I punched him. I just saw red and lost it.
Not only that, he never punched back, just started yelling or something. I think he was in shock. What an asshole.
I know you could also think that about me, but I am trying not to care. Because I want to write about the upsets, disappointments, and CONFLICTS I felt when I was a Washington Square. All right with that?
Can I get a witness?