Socrates

I have a bit of a story for you now.

While I was in the city,
waiting in case a friend of mine showed up (there was a
misunderstanding about whether or not we were meeting) I was treated to
a theatrical performance. The actor was male, in his twenties with
black pants, black tanktop, and of course, black skin. There was a
cigarette tucked behind his right ear, and a can of beer in his left
hand. My first thought was that he was being melodramatic because he
was drunk. When I later reflected, I wasn’t so sure. He is one of the
most intelligent people I have ever heard speak.

It started when
someone apparently said something offensive to him, and he answered
with the typical "It’s all about the white man!" speech. I didn’t know
people actually gave those kind of speeches without making it sound
cliche, but he did it. He did it damn well. After about 10 minutes I
decided it was too good to ignore and I started jotting down notes in
my journal. I’ll try to inscribe them in order, but don’t assume them
to be.

"Now give me a kiss like a fucking man!"
I have seen a
man with army camo and combat gloves walking around. Many piercings,
metal scraps attached to his clothes, strange hair and black lipstick
or a combination of them. I shall call him Steve. He and this black
gentleman (I’ll call him Socrates) chased off the offender. Now
33-year-old Steve and Socrates were left alone. Though I didn’t hear
it, apparently Steve is gay. Socrates just stood there with his arms
open, in the infamous "Come on, bring it on!" pose with Steve putting
an arm on his shoulder. Steve leaned in, but backed out, and eventually
left.
"Gays are my friends, cause they know my ass is virgin!"

I may have misheard that, because it contradicts with something else he said, which was
"I
got raped when I was two-years-old! And I remember every fucking second
of it! Why do you think I don’t sleep? Listen here. I am living every
man’s fantasy! I have fucked 27 women. Broken 2 virgins! My last fuck was a virgin!"
Broken
virgins? This guy has some control of language, I noted. He wasn’t your
typical "Swear swear swear, rant rant rant, bitch about the white man"
type of guy.

Something I should have mentioned earlier is that
he had several tattoos. At least, I think they were. They sort of
looked like permanent marker. He had a circle with an "A" through it on
his left arm. A swastika was on his forehead, a pentagram on his left
temple. I did not see what was on his right temple. Speaking of which,
some loser in a trenchcoat and army balaclava jumped out and screamed
"Hoyle!" in a Hitler salute. If you’re going to say heil, learn to say
it properly. Anyways, I won’t psycho-analyse why Socrates might have
branded himself like this and what he was saying about himself.

Bit of a tangeant there. Carrying on, he then went on to explain.
"I
have murdered four pedophiles! MURDERED! … I can show you how I
killed them!" he yelled after someone. He killed them all before he was
seven years old, and the doctors said that they had all died of
‘natural causes’.
"… I rob WA people, but I have never broken into a house!"
I may
have misheard that, because it’s a little contradictory. At this point,
I noticed that he was balancing on the balls of his feet to make
himself look taller and more intimidating. He was very agile, very
fast, and very well built. I do not doubt he has been in street fights.

Keep
in mind his English sounded refined, but his voice was ameliorating.
That means he was trying to improve and help people- give them needed
advice. That’s the sort of tone he was yelling in- nothing derogatory,
nothing particularly caustic, just morally guiding. He mentioned being
every man’s dream a number of times.

"Quantum physics! I know
how to split an atom!" he declared solemnly. "I can make a nuclear
bomb!" He paused between every sentence he said to add incredibly
dramatic emphasis on each, whilst still maintaining he solemn pose of
"Bring it on!" or the sort of one that said, "Yeah that’s right, and
you know I’m right, so you worship me boy or I’ll whoop yo’ ass."

Unfortunately,
a little boy was playing with the marble fountain. Socrates was only
standing about a meter away from him when he was noticed. His mother
had walked off hurriedly, not realising her son was still playing with
the ball. I couldn’t blame her- most people would think he was
crazy/drunk if they hadn’t sat there for as long as I did.
"Mummy!" screamed the boy after a moment and ran after her when she was some twenty metres away.
"Yeah that’s right, you run kid!" crowed Socrates.

"Do you know the smartest book I have ever read?"
I must admit, I blinked several times. I hadn’t thought him the type of person to read books.
"King
Solomon!" I paused to consider it. It definitely sounded like an
intelligent book, based on the acknowledged wisest King in all of
history. He wrote the Proverbs, which are listed in the bible. Things
that say "And do not give a man your scraps, for that man is your
brother, and not your mongrel." I made that up, but yeah it’s just all
those sort of quotes. Anyway…
"Read it ya cunts! Try and understand it!"

(This
guy is brilliant.) "You are the fucking psychiatrist! You are the
psychologist! I am either fucked up, or a fucking genius!"
Now that got me thinking.

"Do you know who the King of Australia is?" Oh boy, here we go. He’s getting into politics.
"The
[male kangaroo’s official name]! The male kangaroo! Eight foot tall!"
Blah blah blah, break your bones, etc. Built like Arnold
Schwarzenegger. Mighty creature, that roo of ours. This guy respected
animals more than humans.

He mentioned the WA police force. Occassionally I thought I heard him say that he was the force, and that would make sense seeing as he took justice into his own hands.

Again,
Socrates embellished his earlier statement of the world being
Neverland, and him being Peter-fucking-Pan. He declared himself a male
prostitute. "You want me, you pay me, cause I am fucking good!"
Yeah
my opinion of him dropped, just a little. "I am living every man’s
fantasy!" he repeated again, although I think I was one of the few
people who sat down and listened to his full performance. He was a
master, and something about him gave off the air he was used to doing
it. And yet his material didn’t seem stultified or at all old or
cliche. Hypocritical, perhaps, but not contradictory. He claimed to be
the new Bruce Lee. He listed off the world’s greatest men (and only
men) for a while, and I could respect him.

He gave me a lot to
think about. About people, and their reactions to things they don’t
want to face. About philosophy and about life. Not like I’d want to be
him some day, but I think this guy had the right idea. About what, I’m
not sure, but he definitely had it. He came near me a few times (within
a meter) and yelled, but fortunately never glanced at me more than
once. I remember glancing over him to check for places he could hide
weapons if he got into a fight. Who with, I’m not sure. With me, with
anyone who offended him. I do it to everyone who looks like a potential
threat, but let’s not go there, shall we? Anyway, Socrates is
incredible. I hope to witness another performance some day. He’s got an
interesting outlook on life, forged from the suffering he has endured.
Curious fellow, that Socrates.

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One thought on “Socrates

  1. Korelee says:

    The circle with an A through it means Anarchy.

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