Monday, December 12, 2011

The Seven Near-Death Experiences of Zek J Evets: Pt. 7

I have been procrastinating this final chapter on the 7 times I have almost died. And while it would be easy to blame a busy work schedule, hectic college education, romance, housemate drama, or the pursuit of other artistic endeavours, the reality is far more... shameful.

See, despite my seemingly cool exterior, despite the well-crafted response to life that is my personality, I am capable of being someone who I regretfully cannot look in the mirror sometimes.

This NDE occurred during my first year of SF living, back in early 2008.

I was walking along Van Ness, coming back from a late-night walk through the city (a strange habit, but I'm a night-owl, so sue me) and I'd just finished a scrumptious meal at a local Burger King when, crossing the cobble-paved sidewalk between Tenderloin and SoMa, I was accosted by acoustics of a homeless dude.


Yes, he really did sound like that. Like a post-apocalyptic zombie.

Only he could run really fast. Seriously, I began with a brisk walk, then a brisker walk, then a job, then a full-tilt hustle but somehow this hobo caught me sans shoes, socks, and even a few toes.

His manner worried my 21 year-old self, still uncertain of this big-little city. I figured he was hoping for some charity; a donation to the beer/weed/hard-drug foundation of which this matty haired, scraggly fingered, red eyeballed, toothless beggar was surely a found member.

Normally I'd be quite moved to pity. As a newbie to SF, I was still unused to being begged for money on a regular basis, and my moral center wasn't quite as practical as it is now. But in the dead of night, surrounded by empty space and the sight of this crazy dude hobbling after me with the speed of a demon?? Hells no!

And that's what I told him. But he didn't seem to get it. So I just continued running walking down the street. Even though I didn't look back -- something of which I was kinda proud -- I felt that he was still following me with the intent to shank me in some dark corner, probably by the next BofA ATM.

However, instead of waiting for the dark embrace of a shadowy corner, this guy suddenly grabbed me from behind! His hands traced awkwardly sensual movements, aggressive, and prying, as if I were being raped. Or robbed.

Either way, I freaked out. Went completely still like a deer staring into two very bright headlights.

As the hobo's breath wafted into my nostrils, something inside me suddenly broke free and before I knew it...BAM MOTHAFUCKA!

I snapped like a dry twig. Took his hands and flipped him so that his back was to me with his arms pinned. Then I took a handful of his greasy knotted hair and used it to pull his head around towards my swift knee. Once! Twice! Three times! Then a punch to the solar-plexus and Mr. Hobo went down like Apollo Creed.

But the something that had broken free inside my raged too wildly to be restrained this suddenly. I started kicking him in the ribs, violently, and continuously. Eventually he stopped coughing blood, and stopped moving, or even making a sound...

And just like that I was Dr. Jekyll again. (Mr. Hyde still lurked somewhere in the back of my subconscious though, I'm sure, patiently waiting for another opportunity.)

I bent down to see if the guy was breathing. Luckily his crusty lips whistled with a faint passage of air. I rolled him onto his back and checked his pulse, tried to wake him up but the man was out cold.

At that point I got scared. Scarder. More scared.

Had I just almost killed this guy? What do I do know? He just tried to rape & rob me, but I can't just leave him here... Yet my pulse quickened, and my youth prevailed over my reason.

I ran like a fucking coward and left this guy, broken and bleeding on the sidewalk on a cold San Francisco night.

To this day I'm not sure if he lived or died. I like to believe he survived, somehow, and that the bodily punishment I inflicted on him didn't cripple the guy into any more of a pitiable existence. I fervently hope that he's doing better, and that he may find it in his heart to forgive the cruelty I exhibited that night. I was young, and fucking stupid.

Yet I remember crawling back to my apartment near the top of Twin Peaks and feeling nothing but gratitude to be alive.

So it goes.


4 footnotes:

John said...

That is a fucked up story, I don't think it was near death for you , I think it was for him, that is if you are not exaggerating the end scene as well. I doubt the raping shit. I'm really just being honest here. I would like to kick your butt for this. You seem like one of those kids who like to beat the shit out of homeless people knowing that the likelihood of someone caring about this poor soul is nil, and you won't get caught. well god knows, and now many other people do. You are a self pat on the backer, be a little more humble jerk. Because there is no fucking way you would do that shit to me asswipe.

Zek J Evets said...


I have this strange feeling that you didn't read the post very carefully. The man attacked ME. Yes, I did freak out, freeze up, and then go crazy in the moment. However, I didn't go searching for a fight, nor have I ever expressed any interest in finding hobos to beat up, nor condoned violence of any kind, particularly against those less fortunate.

I'm sad to see you projecting so much negativity on me over things I never said or did. Perhaps you have some unresolved issues you should deal with? I mean, it's all well and good to pretend to be a tough guy online in a blog comment, but excuse me if I reject your moral turpitude in this instance since you have proven incapable of exercising reading comprehension, and have shown some serious problems with aggression.

For my part, I regret what happened, and I hope that guy is alright.

Thanks for trying to start a fight on blogger though dude! You totally know better than I what really happened or could've happened, even though you weren't there. Keep up the douchebaggery!

John said...

Look Zek, you are the one who puts your douching out there for all the world to see, I in all honesty was a fan, but you come across as a whinny bitch. I never threatened to fight you I simply stated that your words pissed me off enough to WANT to kick your butt. obviously I'm speaking hypothetically. I'm not really going to do it, just saying it wouldn't be as easy as the mentally ill homeless person you almost killed, and bragged about it (GOOOO ZEK!!!!) So you once again falsely are the "victim" just like your bogus rape story. Look the guy probably was a sick nut who should have been put in a loony bin. However I doubt it was a near death experience. You were scared and the big bad world almost took a bite out of you and you over reacted. Leave it at that.

Zek J Evets said...


Well I appreciate you taking the time to attempt to change what you said from something irrational into something sensible. Pity it didn't work =/

I haven't bragged, nor dismissed my own actions, yet at the same time I don't seem to hold this strange obsession that you have towards "hating" me and wanting to beat myself up over shit that happens in the "big bad world". Particularly when that shit is something like getting attacked by a homeless person and freaking out. I'm certainly not the first to overreact in a situation when I'm scared, nor will I be the last, and I'm not going to apologize or brag about self-defense.

Meanwhile, you can saber-rattle all you like, but online you just sound like a douche flexing fake muscles. And to that I can only wonder, how old are you?

However, if my words piss you off so much, then maybe -- and I'm just taking a lark -- maybe you shouldn't read my blog then? Then you wouldn't need to be spanked in such a verbose fashion about a person's life you clearly don't comprehend.

My recommendation? Go back to trolling AOL chat rooms. I'm sure someone there will pay attention to you.