Manson
League Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 382
- Points
- 0
((FADEIN: After CRASH, in blackness, MICHAEL MANSON, his head newly stitched and without bandages, still wears his ring gear as he sits in a wheelchair.))
MANSON: I sometimes wonder why I still keep this thing around. Then again, many people probably wonder why I keep all the things I do....the weapons....the artificial limbs....the books I know by heart.....people wonder why I do the things I do. I can answer the second question more easily than the first. I do the things I do for mostly the same reasons people do whatever they do.
((MANSON sits up.))
Perhaps, I keep this and anything to remember..to constantly remind myself of things that can get lost in translation. Memory is not always a completely reliable thing, you think a book says one thing, and you're sure of it, but then one day you look and the words are completely different. I think back to a cage, to two men assaulting me and hearing the crack of my back. I've watched the footage, more times than I should have.
I think I remember it well.
And whenever I see this thing...((MANSON taps arms of wheelchair loudly))...that all comes back to me. How my first thought was that I had to refuse to surrender. That I couldn't escape this time, that I couldn't give up. I sit in it this and I remember wheeling myself around for months while I could only struggle through painful therapy to comeback. I see other pissants across the wrestling landscape in their own wheelchairs, some doing better jobs of acting than others, and some who are actually hurt. I wonder if they remember the sound of their spine contorting.
I know no one wept for me, I know there were those that were pleased. But I didn't need any of that to comeback, to stand and walk again. It's what I do. I had no more choice than you have waking up in the morning. Time goes by...other things take my attention and I keep this....greased and shining.....and I remember...yet there's always that doubt lingering.....
That I can't really hate because I don't really remember how it was taught to me. I lost a match and I was carried out. It's documented. Taped. It stands out as something that rarely happens to me. Still, in mind, sometimes I think the future has changed my perception, that other things have clouded my judgment and that I don't remember the agony as clearly as I should. That I remember being mortal.
Then.....we have CRASH....and BLOODHUNT comes back.....and in that flash of how ever many minutes.....I don't need the wheelchair at all. I can see it all clearly, after all, it just happened all over again.
I can learn though, like I did to hate. To take things away, like you did to me, BLOODHUNT. I got it all back, but there was a price, there always is, and I did't shudder at it. You will.
This has not ended.
MANSON: I sometimes wonder why I still keep this thing around. Then again, many people probably wonder why I keep all the things I do....the weapons....the artificial limbs....the books I know by heart.....people wonder why I do the things I do. I can answer the second question more easily than the first. I do the things I do for mostly the same reasons people do whatever they do.
((MANSON sits up.))
Perhaps, I keep this and anything to remember..to constantly remind myself of things that can get lost in translation. Memory is not always a completely reliable thing, you think a book says one thing, and you're sure of it, but then one day you look and the words are completely different. I think back to a cage, to two men assaulting me and hearing the crack of my back. I've watched the footage, more times than I should have.
I think I remember it well.
And whenever I see this thing...((MANSON taps arms of wheelchair loudly))...that all comes back to me. How my first thought was that I had to refuse to surrender. That I couldn't escape this time, that I couldn't give up. I sit in it this and I remember wheeling myself around for months while I could only struggle through painful therapy to comeback. I see other pissants across the wrestling landscape in their own wheelchairs, some doing better jobs of acting than others, and some who are actually hurt. I wonder if they remember the sound of their spine contorting.
I know no one wept for me, I know there were those that were pleased. But I didn't need any of that to comeback, to stand and walk again. It's what I do. I had no more choice than you have waking up in the morning. Time goes by...other things take my attention and I keep this....greased and shining.....and I remember...yet there's always that doubt lingering.....
That I can't really hate because I don't really remember how it was taught to me. I lost a match and I was carried out. It's documented. Taped. It stands out as something that rarely happens to me. Still, in mind, sometimes I think the future has changed my perception, that other things have clouded my judgment and that I don't remember the agony as clearly as I should. That I remember being mortal.
Then.....we have CRASH....and BLOODHUNT comes back.....and in that flash of how ever many minutes.....I don't need the wheelchair at all. I can see it all clearly, after all, it just happened all over again.
I can learn though, like I did to hate. To take things away, like you did to me, BLOODHUNT. I got it all back, but there was a price, there always is, and I did't shudder at it. You will.
This has not ended.