Tough guys might get knocked down, but they don't stay down. Tough guys might hesitate before entering that dark room, but they go in anyway. Tough guys take the news of their partner getting iced by flexing their jaw muscles and staring out at the street. Then they go find the killer.
I write about tough guys. The leads in all of my novels spring consciously from Chandler's Philip Marlowe. They're flawed men who may do bad things, illegal things, even things they will regret.
But they never do the wrong thing, not without doing whatever needs to be done to make it right. Because men like Marlowe have that code the academics write dissertations on, a code that is simply knowing that the right way is rarely the easy way, but it is the only way.
But they never do the wrong thing, not without doing whatever needs to be done to make it right. Because men like Marlowe have that code the academics write dissertations on, a code that is simply knowing that the right way is rarely the easy way, but it is the only way.
Their code may not be the same code as society's, but it is bedrock, and I can close my eyes, toss a Bible and smack some self-righteous prick with fewer scruples than the assorted hit men, con men, mooks, palookas, grifters, gamblers, hookers, dirty cops and drunken spies we write about in our fiction.
I am not a tough guy. I walked through this past week numb, and I know that things here are still dark and it could be a long time before we can see any light again. But I am back on my feet, ready to do whatever it is I have to do. Sometimes, as any infantryman knows, all you can do is put one foot in front of the other. I am not a tough guy, but I can do that.
My friends, which include the people here who wrote to say we were in their prayers (or whatever positive energy it is you heathens let loose into the cosmos), were a consoling and comforting voice, and I consider myself truly fortunate to have you. I will never take your generous offers for granted and I owe every one of you a giant debt it is my honor to carry.
I am not a tough guy.
But my wife is. She stood up for all of us. She stood up, did what needed to be done without a word or a whimper. That's why she'll always be the hero of this picture.
But my wife is. She stood up for all of us. She stood up, did what needed to be done without a word or a whimper. That's why she'll always be the hero of this picture.
I am not a tough guy, but I am a smart guy, and smart guys know that the really tough cookies are the skirts. And this palooka is lucky to have a great one around when he gets knocked on his ass.
6 comments:
I usually say 'channeling positive energy' so I don't offend anyone.
You're in my thoughts, and prayers.
I usually say "channeling the dark powers of the Great Old One, Dread Cthulhu, Who Lies Beneath The Waves Forever Dreaming. Ia! Ia! Shub Niggurath!"
It keeps the Jehovah's Witnesses away, at least.
Thoughts and heathen energies to the cosmos farted by fairies and naked pagan deities in your general direction.
What Stephen said. Hope the light isn't too long in coming.
It doesn't matter whether you're heathen, Rastafarian, Voodun or Democrat, each of us is a lttle more than random chance. A few earn their keep, and the rest of us are trying to figure it out before we go there; wherever there is. Good will is a good thing. We all agree on that.
Dread
Your wife is lucky to have someone who recognizes what she is to you. We're still thinking of you all here. Take care.
Left, right, left, right...
I hope I can keep your pace.
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