The Little Guy

At the unrelenting insistence of an old friend, I have decided to trek down memory lane in a series of upcoming posts. If nothing else, they will serve as a retroactive diary. For a variety of reasons, these entries should be considered fiction.

These forthcoming submissions will be primarily chronological. I haven’t thought of a title for these entries, and I don’t think it really matters. I prefer to name the post after the thoughts are concrete. Anyways, here goes.

I was born an only child, and I stayed that way (for better or worse). As a brand new soul thrust into the care of random strangers, one never thinks to question the normality (or insanity) of their newly introduced corporeal flat mates. I eventually learned that my circumstances were indeed very different from that of my peers.

Early on, I came to the realization that my mum was the boss. Crossing her would not only disrupt the delicate familial harmony, but my bottom would soon redden with the repeated strokes of a wooden hairbrush. My father was an endearingly jovial right-brained outcast who spent his days writing, painting, and banging the ivories in a most hypnotic fashion. They were the Yin and the Yang, mania and calm, emotional tirade and passive resistance – which is why they worked together.

I managed to synthesize their varying traits into a unified new whole (me). I adhere to the tabla rosa philosophy of childhood development. I believe that we are shaped and directed primarily by our earliest influences, the ones in the home having by far the greatest impact.

I was a quiet, introspective, and contemplative child. Though I developed early childhood friendships, I always felt a certain tinge of remoteness from those who populated my environment. Since I did not have any siblings, I spent a good bit of time alone. Looking back on those years, what comes to mind is a sense of empty longing.

To be continued…

5 Responses to “The Little Guy”

  1. 1 Frank
    May 29, 2008 at 11:38 am

    Yup Johnny, unfortunately we can’t pick out our parents. We just pop out and well have to live with what we get. Some people are fortunate while others don’t fair so well. Regardless of our upbringing, and the huge influence it has on us as people, i strongly believe that when we become old enough we need to decide to grow on our own and not blame, or blame and never grow. I think you have grown, I know I have, but then like my sister who is still stuck without going on. I’ll explain further sometime. The photo is quite explanatory and holds much thought provoking feeling!

  2. May 30, 2008 at 1:37 am

    Thanks Frank. Too many individuals retain the destructive baggage of their early life travels. These memories have a powerful psychoactive-like effect on the adult psyche. When one is able to disassociate from these early traumas, the path becomes easier.

  3. 3 c
    May 31, 2008 at 1:28 am

    i think it’s great, your “sharing” of yourself- a peek through worded veils.
    i look forward to more.

  4. June 2, 2008 at 9:02 am

    Thank you for sharing your life Johnny. I’ve read the other 2 entries as well and seriously it was unbelievable. I mean, was it really really you?! But the thing is, although your past time wasn’t that ‘nice’ but probably there’s something about that ‘yesterday’ that can be reflect upon..

    Lord, I lost my words. 😦

  5. June 3, 2008 at 12:31 pm

    c: I am glad you enjoy the new foray. I haven’t got to the good stuff yet.

    nono: The bad things that happen in our life are not really bad at all. They are sign posts identifying where a change is needed in our lives. As a result, they can be incredibly constructive.

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Johnny Peepers

----> is a socio-pathetic degenerate with a penchant for cheap booze, ruphy-laden broads, and dim sum soup.


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