Logan's Lobotomy 1

In 12th grade, my friends and I played a game where we’d rip the heaviest book from the shelf and bash each other over the head - knowledge truly is power. I wish the library carried a copy of the King James Bible. Have you ever been beaten or beaten someone with the KJB or another book? We used books because we couldn’t bring bats, hammers, or billy clubs to school. There was no winning or a point, the object was mayhem for mayhem’s sake. Back then and sometimes now mayhem was a way to take control of my life and relieve boredom. I live that mayhem out in my fiction, even though I wanna smash someone’s face with a crowbar, sometimes… all the time.

Violence became an odd sort of affection - bludgeoning via book meant good morning, a punch, a karate chop, or a kick was a fill-in for a hug. Boyhood and even manhood are fraught with violence. Violence is a rite of passage and a love language. As toxic as it sounds, this idea followed me into my romantic relationships. I felt more comfortable getting punched, slapped, balls squeezed, choked, and hair pulled than being loved - I know, this all sounds very kinky, but I promise it’s not as hot as it sounds. When an ex hugged me, cuddled, kissed, or caressed me, I felt like an animal caught in a bear trap. Their touch made me nauseous. Maybe I picked the wrong partners. Maybe the wrong partners picked me. Maybe love isn’t for me.

I’m not a violent person, but I think and dream about violence a lot - I can’t recall a dream that didn’t involve violence, hence why most of my fiction is violent. The things that happen in my stories are things I want to do in real life, sometimes. Everyone wants to use violence or wishes people to die from time to time - for every breath you draw someone is looking to murder you. Certain family members become giddy when there are tragedies in the news, which I understand to some degree, people dying equals one less person to hold you up in traffic or one less person to stand behind in Dunkin’ Donuts. There are way too many people on Earth, anyway, but expressing these thoughts is frowned upon in society. Why should we care when deep down most people only care about themselves? Why should we care when most people should be murdered and cannibalized? I would express this more, but that kind of talk is what gets me threatened with wellness checks.

Share with the class: Has a wellness check ever been called in on you?

We could have a wellness check party where we call in wellness checks on each other, do a bunch of drugs after (What’s your drug of choice?), behead a high-priced hooker with a Home Depot chainsaw, go crazy with the nail gun, and punch nails through her pelvis. Well, jerks, what is wellness? Wellness is lame, but I’m already lame, stupid, and insipid just like everyone else. To get well you have to get sick. Honestly, I’d rather be down with the sickness than get well.

Homework: Be the reason why someone rolls around on the floor, bangs their head against the wall, and cries.