Hot Headed Heat


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Linkin Park “One Step Closer”



I have never been particularly hot-headed. While others around me quickly blow a fuse and commence tearing into all but sundry I’m the mellow fellow who barely tells a goose boo. I can count the amount of times I have lost my temper over the past decade on a single hand and, in the rare instance that I throw a wobbler, it’s over and done with before you know it. This could be seen as pacifism and you wouldn’t be too far from the mark but, in truth, it is more a case of it not being freely accessible than intentional. However, I do choose my battles wisely.


Certain things irk Keeper more than most. Ignorance is one such bugbear and something which there is no escaping. While most of the folk you rub noses with are affable in the extreme, there are chosen few sent seemingly to needle us. This particular demographic are sent to test us and do so without any sense of social awareness. They test and test until we crack and then stand back and watch as we implode, citing unreasonable behavior and coming out smelling of roses. Meanwhile, we appear unreasonable and shoulder the blame for possessing short fuses.


It’s the oldest trick in the book and one of the most commonly used to boot. Maybe it’s a fascination with breaking us down, perhaps that is where the battle is won for these people. They pull the strings until taut and keep prodding when noticeably they can discern our fragility. Suffering fools can be an art form we partake in daily but there is always that time when defenses are low and such endeavors are difficult to take. These mantises prey on such times.


When my temper finally goes it is not pretty in the slightest. My toys are thrown from the pram and suddenly hulk smash seems like the only available option. For Keeper, instances such as these are a rarity and I’m only a threat to myself as I have no intention of causing another bodily harm. I prefer psychological as it sits and ferments for longer, long after bruises have healed. If somebody is that committed to invading my head space then it seems only fair to flank their troops and send a few scouts in while they least expect it. I know my mind rather well by now and find this technique easier to implement as life teaches me its harsh lessons.


One thing I wish to make transparent is that currently I am a happy camper. This article isn’t knee-jerk as those who understand me will be aware that Keeper doesn’t play this way. I am as happy as a March hare right now, sitting in my wasteland throne, with a foamy latte and cum-guzzling grin on my face as I soak in another L.A. sunrise. I’m just waxing and relaxing. Mind games are not a preferred means of defense, especially when I can’t discern the whites of my aggressors’ eyes. They are only activated when my back is firmly against the wall and, contrary to belief, I don’t wire rants with negativity aimed at ruffling feathers. Granted, I leave breadcrumbs scattered through my prose but if you find a malevolent strain then you simply aren’t reading objectively and a guilty conscience informs your judgement.


I cannot fight your demons for you and neither have I any intention of doing so. I’m here to provide knowledge of your own skill-set, to encourage free-thinking, and to empower y’all to take a look at the (wo)man in the mirror from time to time. The mind is a wonderful thing and its diodes spread far and wide but certain individuals manage to connect a little too freely with their anuses, hence shit-talkers. Their battles are primarily with themselves but they may never learn as much as blindness is not always a curable affliction.


My skirmishes will never be forged against a weaker opponent. Bullying is a most heinous crime to commit and something which I have never been culpable of. I have however been a victim. In secondary school, I wasn’t endowed with the family income to always clad myself with the new pair of Adidas or Sergio Tacchini polo shirt. Instead I spent the last three years of my scholarship in slacks which hugged my spindly teenage pins like Jodhpurs. When I could finally afford a pair of brand new dealer boots, my chosen pair were mistakenly four sizes larger than stated. Cruelest irony left me resembling a pair of nine irons. The bullies knew exactly where to tee off.


If Keeper has beef then said rib is invariably against bigger fish. It is the large organizations, unscrupulous suits and horrible bosses who provoke my wrath and the media has plenty of these smiling assassins. They’re the worst offenders as they use words as one-sided weapons and often with callous intention. I’d rather fight the powers that be than concern myself with mere distraction. In Rambo III, John achieves his bloated body count while not amassing the death of any innocents. A real modern-day Robin Hood, he is deadly accurate with bow and arrow armed and Keeper uses him as a benchmark.


Lowly minnows don’t concern me. Y’all shall never discern personal attacks on your being through any of my scribing. I’m going for the big cats you see, the leaders who do so without integrity, the bullies, the real cunts. It takes somebody outspoken to rile the troops and I uphold that choosing battles is paramount. The revolution must be televised, if we all stand in unison then they aren’t as burly as they appear. Let your blood simmer, select your opponent wisely and let’s all unite in dousing all unnecessary flames.


Click here to read Freaks: The Hunger







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