Anyway, being that yesterday was really the first time I’ve actually shot a gun (though I recall shooting at bricks in Mark Abodie’s back yard when I was in junior high), I wanted to say something about it other than just “It went bang! It went bang in my hands.”
Sadly, I lack the vocabulary to talk about it, so I can only tell you that I shot a handgun and one of those other things, a gun gun.
Laugh away, gun nuts. And then laugh again when you hear that I got home and the Butcher accused me of letting Mack turn me Republican.
I found firing the gun gun less remarkable than firing the handgun. I guess I’ve shot enough bb guns in my day for it to just feel like the equivalent of stepping from, say, Taco Bell to La Hacienda. You kind of know what to expect, even if it’s much differnent than you expected. And I felt like, with enough practice, I could have gotten good at that and enjoyed it.
But the handgun was much different. I mean, no matter how many squirt guns you shoot, it doesn’t prepare you for that.
What surprised me most was that I had this idea that guns made people feel powerful. And yet, holding that thing in my hands, and pulling the trigger… I didn’t really feel powerful at all. I felt like I had an intention–to fire the gun–and a goal–to hit the can. And in between my intention and my goal was going to be a machine going through a very powerful set of steps that, though I instigated, weren’t exactly in my control.
Does that make sense? I thought I would feel like “Yeah, I did that!” but instead I felt like “Holy shit! I could have never done that without this piece of equipment!”
I’m glad I did it. I was sorry to disappoint Mack and his brood. I think they were hoping for a repeat of the crying and pissing and moaning I did when they forced me to ride the four-wheeler.
Still, I think it’s good to do things that make you uncomfortable. It gives you something to think about and a knowledge base from whence to draw on when you read stories about guns.
But, but, but I forgot to tell y’all the most exciting thing.
********WARNING: Not actually that exciting************
Mack’s afghan is doing me in. I’m just making coasters with no end in sight. Really, I am a coaster making machine and still have only filled one Walmart bag with them. So, I was trying to figure out what dimensions to make it so that I could at least have goals–only six more piles of ten coasters each or something–and Mack came up with this brilliant idea that his afghan should be 11×14, since 11/14 is his birthday.
Isn’t that just right?
And, better yet, that means I’m half done with my coaster making (if one excludes all the triangles I’ll have to do at the end.
I love that kind of shit.