Wanted

I've had a little pent up aggression lately so this morning I decided that while finding the studs in my ceiling and installing my own punching bag in the computer room was tempting, I'd better find another way to let go of some anger (apparently a full hand of PBR didn't do it). So, since I was up early anyway, I decided to take care of it the old fashioned way. I got my ass on a bus and went to see a nice, violent movie.

I love violent movies, sometimes too much, but when I'm cranky they are just what I need. So I figured Wanted was right up my alley. It was relatively crowded for an 11:50 am showing, but hey it did only open yesterday. I settled in with my breakfast of popcorn and Coke and got ready for two hours of mindless violence topped off with Angelina in full tattooed glory. It was exactly what I needed. Hell, it's a movie about assassins for christs sake. One of my favorite parts? Skip the rest of this paragraph if you don't want to hear about the details. When James McAvoy demolishes a computer keyboard against the face of his supposed best friend resulting in a slow motion shot of the keys flying apart and forming "Fuck You" in the air with the second "u" being the guys tooth. I love this stuff.

Throughout the movie I kept hearing this odd sound that I couldn't place. But just as I would get close to figuring it out the machine guns would start up or the mysteriously fast El train (it was shot in Chicago) would rumble by and I would get sucked back in. By the end of the movie though I was truly confounded on what was making that extra, not out of the fancy speaker system noise. It just didn't fit. Then the credits began to roll and the lights were brought up and it all became clear. The veil was lifted and I figured it out. There it was in the middle of the aisle between the stadium seats and those crappy flat floor front rows. In all its horrific glory. A stroller. There for the past two hours. There for all the fuck you's and the bullets to the head. There amongst the splattered blood and the flying teeth was a child. Someone thought it was a good idea to bring a child somewhere between birth and I'm guessing 4 years old to an R rated film about assassins. All the pent up aggression that had slowly seeped out of me for the past two hours came flying back and settled in with an icy chill.

I carried the rage with me out in to the sunshine of a pleasant Chicago afternoon. I brought it with me across the street to the bus stop. I sighed as I heaved it upon my shoulders and started heading north on foot. I figured it would be best to try and walk it off a bit before I jumped on the bus. So I walked. I walked and I walked and while the rage did slowly begin to subside it took me walking all the way home. From 2600 N. Western up to 4900 N. Western and then over 4 blocks to my apartment. 30 blocks. Anyone got a punching bag for sale?