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I don't know how I could see that one of them would harass me.

Kilkenny, Ireland, Spring 2009 —

I could never figure out — nor have I yet — how I was able to know which group of little shitheads (even when I couldn't recognize any of them individually) was going to harrass me.

If I could go back now, there are probably times when I would prefer to have beaten some of the little pricks, even though I am not violent by nature nor preference. This anger, which hangs on and eats at me....

But that's hindsight, and probably not worth consideration.

I could never figure out how I knew who was going to harrass me -- whom, I mean, in the sense that "somebody in this group is going to insult me behind my back." I could always see them — even before they'd noticed me — and I knew that one of the assfaced little motherfuckers was going to speak to me, from the safety of the group, after I'd passed and could not see an individual opening his mouth.

I couldn't figure out: If I had never seen (or had at least not recognized) any of them, how could I know that one of them was going to abuse me?

They looked ignorant — in the Irish sense of the word, in the sense that they had a "big ignorant head on them." But that could not explain my uncanny ability to know that they (the group; one amongst them) were going to fuck with me.

They were ugly — maybe that was it. There was something disgusting about them, that you could see from a distance. Something genetic... something not quite right. But I didn't get the feeling that "they are ugly, therefore pissed off, therefore looking for trouble" was a sufficient explanation.

I do think that their physical ugliness did have something to do with our problem. I can't quite figure out how, though.


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