An Invitation to Violence

I had watching him for some time around town.
He had the calm collected countenance of a
person who was always in and on the know
of all the best happenings. He traveled in all
the creative circles but would slum it with
musicians every now and then. I'll be honest,
he's not the kind of person I would ever have
an normal interest in. But if someone fucks
with one of your close friends then taking
an interest in someone like him is no longer
so strange. Especially after what he had done.
I had seen him at a few of her shows and he
never lingered too long, just long enough for
her to know he was there and make her
uncomfortable. I maintained my distance at
all these gigs but I always had to make sure
to not let my emotions get the best of me.
Who was he? He was an art world taste
maker who believed himself to be above
reproach. He curated galleries in LA, NYC,
and some overseas. If you were in art then
you had to know who he was. Power. Abuse.
Drugs. Coercion. Entitlement. What a piece
of shit human being. I won't tell you exactly
what happened but it was enough for me
to begin to slowly take action. Creating a
web one thread at a time. Our desire for
retribution when there is no recourse for
judicial action is strong. It is like an ancient
need for primal justice against those we
love who had been wronged. I had no desire
to take life, only to inspire fear and terror.
To maim him, to let him know that there
are those who don't care who he is, that
not all of us are cowed by the fleeting whims
of popularity and influence. That all these
things are hollow when your life is in the
hands of someone willing to end you if
it came down to it. I want him to know
there are those of us willing to act on an
invitation to violence.