Kim said that I should put a show together instead of whining about not getting booked. I told him I’ve not been whining at all. We argued about that for probably half an hour. He said he never heard me talk so much before. Then he asked why I was focused on that and not the other thing.
I told him I didn’t know anything about promoting a show. He asked me how I got anywhere in life when my first response to everything is to say “no”. He accused me of being afraid of everything. I told him I was only afraid of almost everything and he laughed his ass off. I’m not that funny. He just likes to laugh.
He said that he’d help me with the details, I just needed to get people to work the show and we’d split any money fifty-fifty. I told him that he sounded like he was taking all the risk and I was going to get the reward. He cursed at me in Italian, or what he thinks is Italian anyway, and told me to just accept good fortune for once.
We talked about it for a long time in his office before he kicked me out and told me to start making calls. My first call was to Austin and Laura Starr. He does a lot of non-wrestling stuff around Memphis and since they have a new baby, I knew his calendar would be full. I told him I wanted to thank him for his help and whatever date he could come down, I’d make that the show date.
My next call was to Bloody Mary, I told her I wanted to team up with her. Although I warned her I had only worked tag once and sucked at it. I should have known better, no one cares about the details, they just want to get paid. My next call was to “Irish” Terry McGinn and her referee not-boyfriend. It was like a greatest hits of people that have tried to kill me.
I put together a few more matches and then showed Kim what I had. He about burst a blood vessel because I had “too many girls, and not the good-looking ones!” I asked him who else I would know to call. He pointed out that I wrestle guys all the time. I said “yeah, but most of them are assholes”. He said that if I was trying to book an asshole-free show, we’d be waiting until next Christmas.
Which is fair.
It’s been a strange few weeks. I’ve never stayed anywhere this long before. Kim has an apartment that he keeps even though he has a house. He’s letting me staying there. I guess I live in Tallahassee now? He’s odd. It always throws me when someone is into their ethnicity. He talks a lot about being Italian and how that’s why he’s saying or doing something. Maybe it doesn’t make sense to me because I don’t know what I am.
In addition to talking a lot about being Italian, he just talks a lot. He seems more like a character from a movie than a real person. There are a lot of people in the biz that like the sound of their own voice, but this guy never stops. We’ll have an hour long “conversation” and then I’ll realize that I never said a word.
I was worried about working at the school but I kind of like it. There are only a couple guys there that are serious about training. I help out with them but mostly they work with Kim’s nephew, Evan. Every few days someone new shows up and pays $1500 and then quits after a couple hours when I run with them and then do some squats. Most of them never even make it in the ring. It’s crazy to me that they’d waste money like that.
Bonus, I’m getting in the best shape I’ve been in chasing them off. I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m not at the school, so I hang out there a lot. Either I work with Evan or just by myself. I almost feel bad for getting paid. But I don’t get paid much, so I can live with it. Evan told me I need to learn how to relax.
That’s true, but how do I go about it? Whenever I get back to the apartment, I drink a couple tall boys and then just stand around. I used to listen to a lot of audio books and podcasts while I was driving but I don’t like it when I’m just sitting there doing nothing. I used to watch shows on my phone, but now that I have access to TV I don’t want to. Everything feels off.
I should be practicing my magic, but for the first time ever I’m worried about getting found out. I’m paranoid about Kim or Even walking in on me and thinking I’m crazy. My shield has always been that no one will think I can really do magic, they’ll just think I’m nuts. But I don’t want these people to think I’m nuts.
I’ve never cared about anyone’s opinion before. I need a new strategy maybe.
My last post where I was coldly talking about my foster families got me thinking that I should try to have more of a relationship with Doug the Disco Biscuit. Since he saved my life.
I gave him a call to thank him. I’m not sure who it was more awkward for. We struggled through maybe fifteen minutes of small talk and that was it. A few hours later he called back and said that he had work for me if I could get to Tallahassee. The only caveat being that I wouldn’t thank him. Haha, kidding not kidding.
I wasn’t calling him to get work. I don’t know if he thought I was or if he just did it anyway. I don’t know what to think about it, but somehow it hurt my feelings. Just a little. I was still glad he did it.
In Tallahassee, I met Doug’s buddy Kim Valant. I thought he said Valiant, and since he said he was a 3rd generation promoter, I asked if he was related to Jimmy Valiant. He is not. He ranted for a while about that. It’s a thing for him. I told him that I was very sorry I didn’t know more about wrestling from 20 years before I was born. He looked at me for a minute and then laughed his ass off. It wasn’t that funny.
He actually said “I like you kid, you got moxie” which is not something you hear outside of a movie. Sometimes it seems like he’s doing a character. I think that’s just him. He owns a wrestling school and a couple small businesses around town. He said that he owned a co-op which makes no sense, isn’t the idea that no one owns a co-op? Or that everyone does?
I assumed he was going to get me some matches but even though he says he’s a promoter, he’s not running shows. He offered for me to teach at his school. I told him I barely know what I’m doing and even if I did, I have terrible people skills. He didn’t seem concerned. He told me to collect checks, run them through conditioning, and then show them how to take bumps. 99% of people quit after that. Anyone who doesn’t, his nephew will train.
I agreed. What choice did I have?
A guy from one of my foster homes contacted me. That’s an awkward way to avoid saying foster brother. The longest I was in a foster home was six months. I don’t consider any of those people family. That sounds mean. It’s not supposed to. Sorry, guy, if you’re reading this. I don’t mean to offend, but you’re not my brother.
He called his parents, who called me and said that I could stay with them in Lexington until I “got back on my feet”. This is going to sound terrible but I don’t remember them. I don’t have a great memory of childhood. What I do remember, I wish I didn’t.
I listened to an audio book that said repressed memories are fiction. Either you remember something or you don’t. The idea of hidden memories that have to be teased out is bullshit.
Sometimes you don’t remember bad stuff. I forget the term they used, but they talked about how if soldiers are in a warzone for long enough, they just stop remembering what they’re doing. The memories aren’t hidden where they could be discovered later, they never get made.
In those days I used to get blackout drunk whenever I could afford it. And I did dabble with drugs at times. I don’t think I did it enough to really damage my memory, but it doesn’t help.
This was a very generous and charitable offer. It drove me insane with rage. I understand enough about myself to know that I have issues accepting help from people. Probably in part because I have issues trusting people. Usually I’m able to overcome that feeling and accept help when I need it.
Except when it comes to any of my foster families. Or social workers, or anyone that’s a part of “the system”. Probably a psychologist would say that this is a result of anger stemming from feeling that the system failed me. That I feel betrayed on account of all the bad shit that happened to me. I don’t think that’s true, but that’s the problem with psychiatry. The whole scam is that you don’t know your thoughts.
Anyway, thanks for the offer bro. I appreciate it even though I don’t.
I saw Angela Hill at the gym the other day. The only reason I recognized her is because I saw a tweet from her recently. More surprising is that she recognized me from my bare-knuckle fight. We chatted for a bit. She was complimentary about how tough I was, but I could tell she was trying to figure out how I had done so “well” when it was clear to her that I had no proper training. I forgot to ask why she was in Hattiesburg.
Afterwards I looked her up online. She’s unbeaten in kickboxing but 12-9 in MMA. All of her losses have been by decision and most of them have been a split decision. I wonder how that feels, having a mediocre record knowing that no one has really beaten you. I wonder if she has a defensive style that makes it hard to really get to her, but also means she’s going to lose on points. If anyone knows anything about MMA and Angela Hill, let me know.
Bumping into her must have been good luck because I picked up a series of shows. They were mud shows, which demonstrates how low my luck bar is. In case you don’t know, a mud show is not mud wrestling. Is mud wrestling even still a thing? What with the free flow of the most ridiculous porn imaginable, has mud wrestling gone the way of Playboy? There’s so much demented porn freely available that dudes can’t even get hard anymore. How can mud wrestling compete with that?
It’s hard to explain exactly what a mud show is because the lines are not clear between a “real” mud show and just a normal shitty booking. If the ring is in the woods, or in a field, and it looks like the roster is made up of people who answered a Craigslist ad, you’re at a mud show. You know a mud show when you see it.
At one show, a guy came to the ring in full football pads. Another time a guy had a legit shotgun on his back. One of my “matches” was with a kid that had to be underage in what looked like Deadpool pajamas. He was a little shit, so I tried to twist his head off. But only a little. Also I may have been frustrated. But you can’t take your frustrations out in the ring. That would be bad.
I hit Huntsville, Mobile, Bainbridge, McDonough, Bradenton, Davie and ended up in Clermont, Florida in the exact same situation as in Hattiesburg – mostly broke with no bookings on the calendar. I keep thinking I should find another way to make money. But that’s how I got here in the first place, who’s going to pay me to do anything else?
I have no bookings on the schedule and I’m in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. I’ve got 200 bucks for gas to get somewhere if I do get booked. Other than that, I spent the last of my money at Leatha’s BBQ. I keep saying that I’m better with my money than it seems. Obviously I’m lying to myself.
This isn’t my worst case scenario because I do have money to get to another show if I can book one, but it’s close. Being broke and having nothing coming up, being in one place for long makes me anxious. As long as I’m driving to another job, I feel like I’m moving forward. Sitting here in my car it’s unclear if I’m a wrestler without a gig or a homeless person. The line is thin.
There are only so many calls you can make looking for work. And there are even less free things to do in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. And there’s only so much walking around you can do. I found out that there’s a band that wrote a song about me. It’s terrible. I spent most of the day looking at medical websites and trying to decide if I’m horrible for not trying to do more with healing magic. Turns out without a medical degree, or a HS education at least, reading those sites is pretty much useless. I came to no conclusions.
As much as I fear being trapped with no money and nothing upcoming, I’ve done nothing to prepare for when it happens. Can you do that though? Save money for the tough times? First you’d have to have some.
I didn’t see what happened, but last night they carried a guy into the back that couldn’t put any weight on one leg. People were saying that it was a torn quad but I don’t know if that’s true.
I think I’ve worked more than a hundred shows at this point but I’ve hardly ever seen anyone taken to the hospital. Maybe twice. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not because there haven’t been bad injuries. They just didn’t go. I wonder if there are any countries that have free healthcare and professional wrestling. Doesn’t seem compatible.
A couple people were debating what to do, so I asked the guy if I could try something. I had them carry him into a storage closet of some kind and set him down. I’ve only ever used my healing spell on someone else once and that was a simple thing. This was much harder. When I heal myself, I know exactly where the injury is and what it is.
This was something else altogether. There’s no good analogy, but maybe it was like trying to take a splinter out of someone’s hand while blindfolded? You know something’s there but you just have to feel around. It seemed like it took hours but it was probably 20 minutes. All of a sudden he made a noise like he got punched in the gut and he snapped his head back to look at me.
He said that the pain was gone and he felt fine. He was astonished. I was too, honestly. He asked me what I did and I made up some bullshit about massage and pressure points and nerve clusters. I told him he had just displaced some muscle tissue, which I don’t think is a thing.
It made me feel good to help someone. I would have felt better if he wasn’t an asshole, but assholes need help too I guess. Since I can never feel good for long, I starting wondering – what am I doing wrestling? Shouldn’t I be in a hospital? What exactly can I do? Cure cancer? Help people walk again after a car wreck? Save trauma patients in the ER?
I wonder what would happen if I turned in a hospital with real healing powers. Nothing good probably.
The first Outlaw Fight Club show went up today. It’s pretty well produced. Not good good, but it looks as good as anything you’re going to see out here in the real world. The roster was pretty weak but the presentation was good. Which goes a long way. Paris Torissi was in the main event and that was a nice match. Overall I would rate it as “watchable”.
Only one show is up, but it looks like it’s pulling a lot of attention. So now. I get to decide if I want to call up the moron who screwed me and apologize and beg him to book me. I never thought I had any pride. I figured money is money. But I really don’t want to go crawling back to that twerp.
Anyway, I went to the Buckland Museum of Witchcraft and Magick. Most of the exhibits are the kind of corny tourist stuff you’d expect. But a couple things there I think are actually magic. I got some kind of vibe from them.
As a real magic person, is it any way morally justifiable for me to steal that stuff? This is a weird area on several levels. First of all, the guy who owns this place believes in magic. But he’s wrong. He believes in it the wrong way. Does that make sense? It’s like a conspiracy nut who believes in aliens as opposed to a CIA guy who actually knows where the bodies are buried. That’s not a good example but you get it right? Since I know the real truth about magic, does that make me more entitled to the stuff?
I can do something good with it. If someone displayed the cure for liver cancer because they thought it was a neat piece of art instead of using it, stealing it would be fine right? It would be fair to say that I haven’t really done any good yet. The one person I tried to help ended up murdered anyway. But I would try is the point.
Does that count for anything?
Last night, I ran into Josh aka Dan Conway aka the orgy guy aka the part time male prostitute. He’s now working under the name Mustafa “Bayonet” Tanaka which is pretty ballsy for a white guy. Is ballsy the right word for what he’s doing?
The initial awkwardness generated by our last meeting soon gave way to joking around and chatting like in the early days. Then the awkwardness was back when he mentioned that he’s gotten “really into psilocybin”. That’s a ballsy way to dive in with someone you haven’t talked to in a while. Is ballsy the right word for what he’s doing?
I tried to pull the “well, good catching up with you, I got to run now” but he plowed ahead by telling me that he used to smoke a ton of weed but now that he’s into psilocybin, he doesn’t do that anymore. He made sure to tell me that while he doesn’t smoke anymore, he still sells because it’s “a good little side business”. He wanted to make sure I didn’t worry about him giving up selling weed.
Next he showed me a new tattoo he got of a flower that looked suspiciously like a vagina. Before I could run away, he said something interesting. He said that the vagina flower was the symbol of a collective of shamans and visionary seers who transcend boundaries and limitations through sacred experience achieved by the use of drugs, music, and sex.
Definitely sounds like a cult, but as I’ve mentioned, some cults are set up by real magicians. The stuff he was talking about, achieving a mental state that transcends the physical world, a trance that allows them to see beyond their normal experience and go outside all the lines of reality; that could be magic. It could be a bunch of drugged out assholes too.
How much do I want to find out which?
Did you ever see that old movie Karate Kid? Kid wants to karate fight but his sensei doesn’t want to help him. So Kid finds a new sensei that is clearly evil but Kid is dumb so he goes along with it. I worry about that. I really want a mentor to help me learn more about magic. But what if he’s one of the bad ones and I don’t realize it until it’s too late?
I’m not an angry person. I learned early in life that getting mad doesn’t help anything. I have enough problems without making things worse for myself.
I am currently fucking livid. I was driving into La Grande when the Outlaw Fight Club guy called and told me that plans had changed. They are now going to shoot their episodes at the Kansas Star Casino in Mulvane, Kansas next weekend.
I just drove 3000 miles and now the day before the show, they tell me to drive another 1500 miles and also that the show is next week. I’ve never cursed someone out more than I did that kid at that moment. I doubt I ever will.
The only thing he said in his defense was that they had just decided to make this change this morning. That did not make me feel better. After I told him I was going to murder him for the 9th or 10th time, he said they’d pay me the $700 they promised me anyway.
The kid told me to meet him at Eastern Oregon University. I think he was worried I was going to beat the shit out of him and his girlfriend both if I knew where they lived. No Applebee’s gift cards, he gave me the 700 in cash. He said he still wanted me for the shows next weekend. I told him to fuck off and die.
This is what you get when you take a job from a child.