Mac Johnston. Poet. Scholar. Death Knight

Jessie awkwardly asked me how I would describe my DongQuixote…I could only muster the following, yet perfect apologue….

Warrior Poet.

For gods sake why?

For gods sake who?

Why are you flailing your fists in the air in front of the mirror like a baboon?

You gangly fifty year old mess of a man.

Why must you alienate the rest of us just trying to workout and mind our own business?

This is not a boxing ring nor has it ever been. This is Planet Fitness. Quite possibly the most flamboyantly colored, average joe ridden place on earth. Not Super Knockout Fisticuffs Mcgavins’ House of Punch nothingness.

Is it to impress the over the hill soccer moms? Or the barely legal teenagers? Have they been so fascinated by your pugilist brawn that they proposition bedtime?

I can tell you one thing is for sure..When you fight against nothing, you always lose.

Do pushups like a normal person. Stop whacking away at your dignity.

Love,

Mac

Back in the fifth grade I had a very nasty chemistry teacher named Ms. Von Klempt. We all called the class “Cheminazi” because of how brutish and mean she acted towards her students. It was a running joke among my classmates to see who could let out the biggest fart during her lectures, as our way of ‘sticking it to the man’. The louder and longer the better. It was so nice to break the monotony of her speech by hearing that old Bronx cheer. “Now students I want you to get out your books and turn to the page about the basic structure of an (PFFFFFFFFFFFFFROOOOOMMMMP)….Oh my good lord! Which one of you filthy rascals was it?” and everyone would break out in to gregarious laughter at her stupefied reaction.

Now I had a reputation for being somewhat shy and collected. I was always a good student, but I so longed to be accepted and admired in the larger social circles as any child certainly does. So one day I planned the ultimate fart. I would eat nothing for breakfast and lunch but eggs and lettuce, and chase those with Mountain Dew and beef jerky for snacktime. So by the time Von Klempt’s class rolled around, my buttcheeks would be prim and ready.

After class began I had been saving the monstrosity that had been building up in my intestines quite uncomfortably for the past two periods and was ready to let it rip at moments noticed. I feared that if I leaned to one side, or sat down to quickly I may let it go pre emptively and ruin the whole moment. This was my time to shine and I wasn’t going to let myself or classmates down. She began her lecture and after about ten minutes I felt I was ready to explode, waiting for the right moment. I glanced around the room to see the blank stares of bored faces lethargically looking off into space, waiting for someone or something to break the monotony. I braced myself for what was about to come as this rip would probably go down in history and my name would echo as legend amongst the hallways for the rest of the year.

I spread my legs a tiny bit and heard a little squeak, Like the rock that falls from the dam before the whole thing gives way. I counted down in my head (3,2,1) and what happened next could not be dreamt by man or animal. It was the loudest and juciest I had ever heard, like an orchestral climax, you could hear the build up and crescendo. I may have even lifted off my chair a little. Some kids covered their ears and noses, one girl started to cry. Ms. Von Klempt turned around and became so red in the face, so much built up and bottled anger/angst she was unable to unleash it and passed out from the emotional downpour. One student ran to call the nurse while the others just stared, unable to cope with what had just happened.

The class looked like a fallout shelter, and I was beginning to become disturbed to the fact that smell wasn’t going away. I became aware of my pants feeling a little bit heavy and a certain gooey sensation between my thighs. Much to my dismay and excitement, I pooped my pants. Not only was this disgusting, it was also incriminating. There was no need to brag to my fellow classmates because they saw me start to waddle towards the bathroom, with a trail of fecal matter scattered behind me. It turned out the thing I thought would rocket me into grade school stardom had ended up doing just the opposite in the end.

After Von Klempt came to, the punishment was dealt, I was sent to the nurse’s, than the principal and they called my parents to pick me up from school, and bring a fresh pair of pants. Now until this day anytime I see anyone from that class they make fart noises with their mouths or pretend to waddle as if they were carrying a load. You could say I learned my lesson that day, I found out that social contracts aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. What I thought was the accepted way of life for a small group was not the same for a larger society. I learned to be happy with myself and not expect approval from others. Mostly because they all resented me and called me “brown trousers”. I suppose this whole story comes full circle when I returned home and found a twenty dollar bill in the pants that were poopy.

History II

Biography (much abridged)

Twas a blustery evening in January when I was born. If you want the date on my license it’s the eighteenth but it happened over the course of two days. When it was announced that I had successfully made it all the way out, the village census went and changed the population number on the sign in the town where I lived. I don’t really know that for sure, he may have been in bed since it mostly happened at night and I can’t really see someone like him being paid enough to be “on call”. The town was Gloversville, NY and I was the first child of four for Edan and David Johnston. She, by trade, was an inseminator and breeder of horses.

My father held what was called a “niche market” in that his occupation was rare and appreciated all over the world. He traveled through vast forests, through open seas, through towering cityscapes and sometimes, when work required it, he took to the skies. Yes my father was required to go where he was needed as it is a rare occasion when you come across someone who teaches bulldogs how to skateboard.

My parents both worked to enhance and improve the lives of animals in ways you could never imagine. They never quite understood what drove me to seek excellence at the University at Albany. She always described to me the beauty of a new foal being born and the magic of knowing that it was your arm which had caused it. My father said that no college degree could ever beat the sight of a pudgy-drooly pooch happily rolling down Park Avenue.

Now, as a senior at Ualbany, I am close to showing both of them the endless opportunities and thousands of doors that open when I graduate next semester with my Philosophy degree. McDonald’s all over upstate NY will be begging for my services. And, if the economy keeps going the way its going and if I play my cards right, I could possibly be a cashier at a major retailer.

But I digest. I believe it was Barney the Dinosaur that once said “if you shoot for the stars you will land on the moon” and no one, I tell you no one! Has taken that to heart more than myself. I will embark in the fall twenty five thousand dollars in debt, probably jobless and hung-over from the night before. But what I owe in money I will payback in wisdom. I am taking this class so I can someday fulfill this aforementioned dreamsicle I have laid out in this polemic entry.

You will not meet me or know my face as this is an online class But one day…maybe you will have just purchased a DVD or an ear of corn at some store and I will deftly break your twenty dollar bill and give you the correct change. You will walk away satisfied from your most recent purchase and than…you will remember these words I hath written here today and you will turn around slowly, smile and walk away and mutter “Mission accomplished”.