i don't think this tooth is supposed to feel so loose

Well, I've done it. I've allowed myself to get in a fight for the first time since I was in 5th grade. My face feels funny.

Yesterday afternoon I was walking down Echo Park Ave. towards the lake in order to attend the annual Lotus Festival. I was in my normal mode of dress, which consists of (from bottom to top) Chucks, blue jeans, short sleeve button down shirt, over-sized woman's sunglasses, and 1983 Return of the Jedi hat. As usual, I was smoking as I walked down the street. Nothing new about that, nor is it unusual around here for someone to, this being an artist community. Also, since it's July in Los Angeles, wearing sunglasses and a hat is pretty common place. That said, as I approched the corner of Echo Park and Logan I saw two guys standing across from one another talking and laughing. One of them was short and rather young looking. He was doing most of the laughing. The other one was older and had no shirt on. As I passed them I didn't give them much of a glance, but then I overheard something that made my ears burn.

"We need to get rid of all the 'Woods' around here, with their fuckin' attitude."

I recognized the voice as being the shirtless man. I assume it was the sunglasses that gave me all the "attitude", or perhaps it was the cigarette, or my expression, or who the hell knows. As I continued walking away from them the shirtless man decided to make his point clearer.

"All these fuckin' Peckerwoods need an ass whoopin'. Need to come back over here and get they ass whooped."

I turned my head to left when I heard this, but decided it was best not to turn around as he was just itching for a fight and I have no use for drunken white trash. Well, besides myself, that is. I walked on to the Lotus Festival, had a good time, almost passed out from the heat, and went home after an hour or so.

This morning I met a few friends to watch the World Cup Final at a local Irish Pub. Since three of my Irish friends were there, they insisted that I drink some Irish beer, and I couldn't very well refuse, despite having a bit of a hangover from an outing the night before. I hadn't eaten anything before I made it to the pub, so the two pints of beer had me buzzing pretty quickly. When the match was over and I drove home, I thought it best just to keep drinking beer, as I had nothing else to do for the rest of the day and well, it was hot, and I like to drink. Mostly I just like to drink. After I was good and liquored up, I headed back outside to day two of the Lotus Festival. I walked back down my street without thinking of shirtless guy from the day before, and how I was dressed in the exact same manner, with the same "attitude", the same peckerwood-ness. That was a mistake. Shirtless guy was in the exact same spot from yesterday. I imagine that he just passed out there the previous night. I don't really blame the guy, it is, after all, right across the street from the liquor store. That's prime real estate for a drunk. I can only hope I'll be smart enough to stake out a place like that when I hit bottom. Anyway, I walked towards him repeating the scene from the day before, with sunglasses on and cigarette in my mouth. He was much more shit-faced today, but managed to spot me anyway.

"Hey! Peckerwood! Come back for that ass whoopin'?"
"What?"
"I said, you need an ass whoopin'!"
"No, actually you asked a question as to whether I had come back for 'that ass whooping', whatever that's supposed to mean."

My big, smart ass mouth has gotten me in trouble before, but mostly it ends in a threat of violence, or at the very least my larger, tougher friends are around to back me up. Not today. Today it got me punched right in the mouth.

Actually, it got me punched all over. I certainly hadn't "come back for that ass whoopin'" that he had promised, but I got one all the same. I think I mananged to punch him once, maybe twice, I'm not sure. All I know is that the fight lasted for less than a minute and it was mostly a blur, but had those three Mexican guys not broken up the fight I would probably be dead right now, 'cause my head feels like the shirtless guy slammed it into the sidewalk. If I'm not brain damaged (and unless it takes a day to kick in I assume I'm not) then I guess I just got some knuckles slamming into my head. Somehow I don't feel very comforted with that thought. Maybe it's because I can't stop myself from moving this tooth back and forth with my tongue.

Time to lay down. Hopefully I'll wake up tomorrow.