June 23, 2005


Per, J-Shep's request on her blog, and because I am in this weird stasis of magazine creation, where I am like really close to crying when I look at the wall and how many pages are tacked up and finished versus how many to go, and i already stalled and went swimming in my Italy bikini and paddled around in an above ground that had not enough chlorine and voracious dog hair in it, and I just kind of stare at the wall and go "You have been making this magazine since fucking ninth grade. This shit is in yr DNA. Do it." and then I wonder why it's so fucking hard now, and then I tell myself to can the whole Jesus at Gethsemane (sp?) routine and keep grinding.

But Julianne, she asks to blog about the last time you threw a punch . Last time I tried to fight someone, it was this man yes, the one in the underpants and I was eighteen or nineteen and I loved him so fucking much, and he was such a motherfucking bastard that I used to calm myself down to sleep at night by imagining that if he ever actually came home for once, beating him with a hammer. Sometimes alternated with the thought of (get this) throwing him down a well, and letting him die slowly, and I could taunt him from the well top. I told him this recently and we laughed about it. Anyhow, one day, we were going to go help his parents move, and he had not been home in days, he had been staying at one of his other girlfriends houses, and he just sauntered home, was real casual and real high... and I was outside, waiting against the car, as furious as I had ever been, and something snapped and I started screaming and kicking the car, and then I ran in the house, found him, threw a punch at his head, did not connect so hard but did get him. He grabbed my arms and started laughing at me, so I started spitting in his face and calling him a cocksucker and kicking him. He laughed at me the most awful, nice try laugh. It was humiliating because all I wanted was to knock out a fucking tooth. I wanted him to go toothless back to his other girlfriends.

The last time I punched someone not amidst a teen domestic brawl, was in the parking lot of the More Than Music fest. Some friend of Sean Agnew's -- it was an accident (really) and I made his nose skeet blood but I did not break it. I had started training to box, and had been practicing sparring with my dad and my trainer, Lloy, and so there was something really gratifying about bare knuckled, just popping someone in the face... and it worked. The punch did what punches are s'posed to do. That said, I felt horrible about it. Really. Actually...That's a lie. I felt only moderately bad about it.

I'm not sweating that both these stories make me sound like I'm heavy into battery, so I will say, now, hey people of NYC and associate boroughs, I am in town this weekend! I am staying with J Shep, we will be dancing on Saturday, even if you are a stranger (unless we hate you already), maybe you come dance too. Either way - I will not hit you, I promise.

Posted by Jessica at June 23, 2005 08:42 PM | TrackBack