I won my last fight. This was in 1986 or so, when I fought E.J. on the playground of Jefferson Elementary School in Mason City, Iowa. E.J. had been teasing me in school because I was an outcast and he wanted to boost his popularity, so I challenged him to a fight. No punches were thrown. We wrestled and rolled around on the ground for a while, and then I got behind him and shoved his face into the ground, which is how you win a fight when you are twelve years old. The next day I was pleased, and a little scared, to see that his face was scratched and had little scabs on one side.

So I have not been in a fight for 17 years, and I will probably never be in a fight again, and I am certain that this is a good thing. But sometimes I think about how I would perform in a fight. Actually, I know perfectly well how I would perform in a fight, so I think about what it would be like to be good at fighting. I imagine scenarios in which I would have no choice but to fight, and then I see myself laughing and evading my opponent's punches, ducking and weaving with expert ease, landing blows and hurting the other man at will.

These are ridiculous fantasies. But still I wonder about the power that comes from dominating another man, from instilling fear and inflicting pain. I know that fighting solves nothing and proves nothing. But still I wonder.

+posted by Lawrence @ 8/28/2003 11:18:00 PM