Chapter 14: There is no postgame

Surfing’s archives, I came across something that made me stop in my tracks. “There is no post-game.” I sat and thought about this for a while, as I am rather prone to doing. How would you play differently, knowing that it was the last game of the season? How would you live, knowing you had no tomorrow? Invariably you play or act differently. My life is not a continuation of some chain of events; it is a unique experience that I must create. The meaning of life is not to be a good person, not to be a good father, or to be rich, although it can include all of those. The meaning of life is to play this great game as it should be played, to the fullest.

Chapter 12: Material Things

The things you own, end up owning you. Hence, when you stole my car, and burned out in my driveway, the things I owned ended up owning me, causing me to irrationally punch you in the face. The unimportant material objects, mere tools, such as my laptop, become more important than they should, causing me to put a password on them. So if the things I own end up controlling my life, then why should I own them? All I’ve done thus far is punch my best friend, and piss off my brothers. But when I enter a mosh pit, and have nothing to lose but my consciousness, where the clothing I wear I don’t care about, the wallet is empty except for a license, and my keys are clipped onto my pants, then I am free.

Chapter 11: Mosh Pit

A mosh pit is interesting because of the duel nature of the whole affair. The band is blasting music at unbelievable volumes into the crowd, and the pent up anger of a hundred young concert-goers is released in the form of various wrestling moves. But as soon as the hapless soul trips and falls, immediately, a complete reversal of the earlier mood occurs. People who had been trying as hard as possible to inflict pain on those around them stoop and help the fallen gently to their feet and ask them “Hey man, are you OK?” Mosh pits may be about releasing anger, but the anger is not directed at the other concert goers. Instead it is vented into thin air, with anonymous figures taking the brunt. So far it is the only place I have found where you can beat the shit out of someone and become friends because of it.

Chapter 10: The World According to Sean Murphy

Comfort is an illusion. A false security bred from familiar things and familiar ways. It narrows the mind, weakens the body and robs the soul of spirit and determination. Comfort is neither welcome nor tolerated . . .

There is only determination. There is only single minded desire. Not one among us is willing to give up. Not one of us would exchange freedom for torment. Finally, I will be a Marine.

But first, a final test will take everything left inside. When this is over, I will stand and reach out with dirty, callused hands to claim the Eagle, the Globe, and the Anchor. And the title United States Marine.

– As an afterward, to the best of my knowledge Sean Murphy was kicked out of the marines several months after enlisting.