@the-erik-jurado-experience
F U C K : Obscenity must be in the mind of the beholder.
<p>F U C K : Obscenity must be in the mind of the beholder.<span><br /> </span>I must have been 5 years old when I became aware of the word FUKC. It was displayed in paint over our couch in the living room of our home. I saw the word about a dozen times EVERY DAY. Wake up, go to the kitchen for breakfast, look up – FUKC. After breakfast, go to the bathroom to brush my teeth, look up – FUKC. Get dressed to go outside, walk to the front door, look up - FUKC. Return home, open the front door, hey, look - FUKC. At least a dozen times each day in the years 1970 to 1973 – FUKC, FUKC, FUKC, FUKC, FUKC, FUKC, FUKC, FUKC, FUKC, FUKC, FUKC, FUKC. Each 12 to 15 inch, black, bold, serif letter was capitalized. The letters popped out of a bright, heavy-textured reddish/orange background. The generic representation shown in the jpeg (if I remember to include it) doesn’t have the same intensity as the actual painting that demanded attention. How can a five year old resist becoming attached to this word.I was unsure of the meaning the entire time we lived in that house. Although, I figured out different applications of its use. I remember some of the parties my parents had back then. Bands in the living room, the smell of pot, drinks, a jumbo bag of popcorn, and the FUKC painting. Coincidently, about every adult used the word FUKC. I knew exactly what they were saying and what they were talking about... they were saying FUKC that’s the word on our painting. They must be enjoying our company, home, living room, PAINTING. Yes, we are very proud of it. Furthermore, I could bet anybody in that room any amount of money that I knew how to spell it – I was very confident that I was socially on their level, I liked the FUKCin' popcorn like the adults, Jimi Hendrix was FUKCing amazing to me also, I didn’t smoke – but I did enjoy the smell, oh yeah - we are all aware of the word FUKC -and I even knew how to spell it by heart. It is spelled F-U-C-K in case you didn’t know.<span><br /> </span>I always strived to be like those hippies that produced me. I tried as hard as I could to stay awake all night with the adults. I was a lightweight and somehow always fell asleep sometime before the end of the night. I'd always be disappointed in myself. That has actually carried over into adulthood for me - but that's a story for another day. Anyways, I would get up early the next day and look through the records littered throughout the living room. Whenever I got to the album with the naked ladies, Electric Ladyland by Jimi Hendrix - (naked ladies is just as "adult" as FUKC, right?), I would stack both albums on the record player and lay between the speakers eating leftover popcorn and fall back to sleep. I felt I could do what adults could do – I was only smaller than them but pretty much just like them - in my mind. <span><br /> </span>I do remember being unsure about the context I could use the word myself... I didn’t want to say it in the wrong context in front of anyone because that could negate any progress I had accumulated in my confidence in hanging with adults, and I liked where I felt I was at socially. My ignorance of the word led me to pay attention when the word was used so that I could possibly figure out what it meant – and I knew I could do it too, I had learned a lot just by looking and listening.I did have some experience hearing the word. I always thought I was a loud word.<span><br /> </span>"FUKC!"<span><br /> </span>I would hear my parents shout FUKCS to each other...“FUKC YOU!”“FUKC YOU TOO!”Then doors would slam. Front door, bedroom door, car door, Volkswagon Beetle starting up and then screeching away... "FUKC" was definitely a loud word.<span><br /> </span>That’s probably why each of the letters F-U-C-K were each capitalized in the painting. I still wasn’t too sure of the meaning, but I was breaking new ground. I guess anyone could remember the 4 letters used to spell FUKC, but now, I had evidence that proved FUKC was also a very loud word. It was shouted as though it were some kind of ultimate weapon. FUKC is a powerful word. My mom and dad both had the same sense of power as they bombed each other as a final resolution to their disagreement. FUKC is loud. FUKC is powerful.<span><br /> </span>Could I dare use the word to end a disagreement between myself and the kids that play outside?“Can I have your green Hot Wheel?” “You can’t. It’s mine.” “So, I want it. I love green Hot Wheels.” “Go buy your own.”“I want THAT one.” “NO!” “FUKC YOU!!!”It still doesn’t feel right. I may have liked the green Hot Wheel, but it wasn’t mine. I knew better than to be a bully. And what, now I have nobody to play Hot Wheels with. Forget it. (FUKC IT! hahaha) Then, one day my mother was on the phone. Right when she hung up, she rushed over to the painting, took it off of the wall, hid it in the closet of her bedroom, and put one of our other paintings in its place...<span><br /> </span>•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••<span><br /> </span>to be continued (upon request from at least one person):“WHY ARE YOU TAKING THE FUKC PAINTING DOWN AND HIDING IT BEHIND THE DOOR?” “WHAT THE FUKC IS GOING ON???”<span><br /> </span>•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••<span><br /> </span>I am tired, and will continue the story upon request only... I don't mind wasting my time, but if I'm going to type it up I need to know that somebody out there is at least reading it.<span><br /></span></p>
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i read the whole fucking thing! and you left me fucking hanging! lol
finish the fuckin story please! lol
hahahahaha fuckin-a-right!
I'm not sure if I want to know the rest of the fukcing story......lol just kidding.....yeah go ahead with it, my curiosity is running wild with speculation.
Farrell