Two days from now I will have lived on Haight St. for ten largely uneventful years, relatively speaking. But heaven forbid that come to pass before I had to sock somebody.

Ten seconds out of the front door on the way to the bank, some jackass talking to himself while rummaging through the garbage can on the corner decided he would hurl a cup-full of coffee at me. I, for all intents and purposes, lost my shit. I chased him into the middle of the street, took him down, and sifted through the long blonde wig he was wearing to get in a couple potshots before one of the neighborhood br0s intervened. Hung out after because I figured it looked too bad to leave the scene from, flagged down the cops myself, and they said they would give him an “admonishment.”

One more good shot and I would have probably broken my hand. No good shots, and I would have felt like justice was not served. So that all worked out OK.

I feel like it would be a betrayal of sorts if any of us find ourselves punching people over the course of our day and then choose not to share it with everybody.