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Matt Murdock's LiveJournal:
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| Monday, June 19th, 2006 | | 12:24 pm |
I don't wish to seem ungrateful for no longer being in my cell on Ryker's Island, I really don't. But, God, I'm so incredibly bored with having nothing to do, day to day. I'm not one for sitting on my ass, and contemplating my navel in a Zen garden, as beautiful as the gardens here might be. Admittedly, freedom is wonderful. The ability to, if I want, do something as simple as walk down the open road to buy a newspaper, is exhilarating. But it's hollow when I'm not doing anything to earn that freedom. I have responsibilities. I've been slipping out at night. My costume, Elektra said she'd brought my costume, but the last thing I need is for the legend of Daredevil to begin to be spoken about in this country, too. So, I've just been knotting a scarf around my eyes as a mask. I know how foolish is would be to try and hide it from Elektra, so I haven't bothered. She's a ninja. She's no fool. I wonder when I'll run across Japan's version of a man like Wilson. I'm sure he's here somewhere. Current Mood:  cynical | | Sunday, May 14th, 2006 | | 8:43 am |
I'm really very much not cut out for a sedentary life of leisure. I may, in fact, go stark raving mad if I don't get out and do something, and soon. Current Mood: crawling the walls | | Saturday, May 6th, 2006 | | 10:22 pm |
Japan. The air smells somehow different here. Cleaner. Which is possibly an illusion created by my fervent desire to ascribe a meaning to being here that simply shouldn't be. Freedom. I can, should I so desire, take a shower without having to worry about whether or not someone will be sliding a sharpened spoon between my fourth and fifth ribs. Which is pleasant. The garden is lush, and redolent with Jasmine. I've been spending a good amount of time in it at night. It's cleansing. I don't want to know the names, scents, anything about the other heartbeats I can hear nearby. Watching. I assume they're Hand. If they come close enough to physically interact with me, they won't enjoy the experience. I'm pretty sure Elektra's already warned them of that. Current Mood:  contemplative | | Friday, April 7th, 2006 | | 2:56 pm |
Sleep. My kingdom for 6 hours of restful, quiet sleep. It's a rarity in prison at the best of times, for the most normal of inmates. For someone who can hear a car horn honk 6 blocks away like he was under the damned hood, it's not likely to happen at all. There are amusements, even in here. Wilson's going half-crazy. Someone's dismantling his operations with ruthless, brutal efficiency. Which earns me at least one reason to smile every morning. It can't be blamed on Daredevil. Of course, that's not just because I'm in here. Every courier, every legbreaker, every number-running beancounter...they're all winding up dead. I suppose I should mourn them. I just can't seem to make myself do it. It's interesting, really. Current Mood:  calm | | Sunday, March 26th, 2006 | | 2:36 pm |
[Locked to Natasha]
"Murdock," came the rasp of Hanratty, one of the few screws in the Protective Custody wing that didn't treat him like something he'd scraped off his shoe, "Get up. You got a visitor." Matt rose from his cot, holding out his arms, wrists together. He waited patiently for the shackles, thanking fate or God or whomever that Hanratty was the guard on duty. His wrists wouldn't particularly chafe from the application of the cuffs this time. "C'mon, counselor," the older man said, once the cuffs were secured. "Is it my attorney?" he asked. "Nope. Pretty red-headed lady." Matt absorbed this knowledge with the faintest of smiles, and allowed himself to be led, winding past cells filled with people he'd had a hand in putting here to begin with. He ignored the fusilade of taunts he always recieved. When they reached the visitation room, that ghost of a smile had returned. He was led inside, his shackles removed. "I'll be right outside." Matt barely heard. He was busy concentrating on a familiar heartbeat. Current Mood:  curious | | Thursday, March 23rd, 2006 | | 11:50 pm |
[Locked to Elektra]
After midnight. Lights out was two hours ago. Matt is still in protective custody, still alone in his cell. He kneels in the corner of the cell, stripped to the waist. The scars on his back crosscross, forming a roadmap of past pain. His breathing is low, soft and even. He hasn't been able to sleep well in here. The sheets are too coarse, the sounds of the prison permeate the walls as though they were not even there. He is alone, tormented, and struggling to clear his mind. To let the heavy burdens he bears drop away, even for a moment. Current Mood: conflicted | | Wednesday, March 22nd, 2006 | | 9:57 am |
...well, then. Current Mood:  embarrassed | | Tuesday, June 28th, 2005 | | 4:53 pm |
The topic for the week of 24-30 June 2005: [Unknown LJ tag]What is the biggest obstacle you have overcome in your existance?I barely remembered anything. They say that severe and lasting trauma can selectively edit parts of your memory. Your mind builds it's own defenses. I prefer to think of it another way: The human mind can only deal with so much, and when it's reached that capacity, it just ejects everything else. He broke me. He won. All because of an ex-girlfriend who had gone to Los Angeles to become an actress, and had come home a strung out porn star. Karen. She was so desperate for a fix of heroin, she sold the only thing she had left. Me. My name. When Wilson Fisk has something on someone, he doesn't hold onto it for very long. He's not that type of man. Within weeks, he began systematically destroying my life. I was disbarred, for unethical conduct. My home was blown up. My best friend was beaten to within an inch of his life, and hospitalized. I, myself, was beaten, left in the trunk of a cab, and my cane was used to pummel a taxi driver to death. The cab was then pushed into New York Harbor. I fought my way out of the taxi's trunk, and washed upon the Jersey side of the bay. If not for the kindness of a homeless man, and a nun, I'd be dead. Sometimes, I truly believe that God does intervene when you need him. That he watches out for all of us, in his own way. He watched out for me. He helped me fight my way back out from under everything Wilson did to me. He re-united me with my mother. That alone proves he exists. Current Mood: thoughtful | | Tuesday, March 22nd, 2005 | | 8:06 pm |
What is the scariest thing that has ever happened to you?
He took everything from me. I was disbarred. The law had been the one constant in a life that had changed and shifted like the flow of a river. When dad was killed, it became something of an obsession. Justice, law...same thing to me, really, most days. I lost it all at the hands of Wilson Fisk. My job, my house, my identity...everything, gone. Karen sold it to him for a fix of heroin. I never saw the attack coming. Blindsided. It almost sounds funny coming out of my mouth, doesn't it? I woke up in the trunk of a taxi as it was filling with water. I kicked my way into the backseat, and saw a corpse. Was about to become one myself. Was that the scariest thing that ever happened to me? No. Walking into Wilson Fisk's tower with a gun in my pocket, prepared to kill him for everything he'd done... That was more frightening. That I could be pushed to the brink of cold-blooded murder. That I could walk that line, and almost become Frank Castle...that was frightening. Matt Murdock, Daredevil Current Mood: contemplative | | Sunday, February 27th, 2005 | | 2:50 am |
write a ficlette based on the word: beautiful.
We all know the cliche: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What about those of us who cannot see? Other senses then apply: The smell of vaguely exotic bath-salts. The clean, sweet scent of a woman's sweat after a workout. The sound of silk as it slides against a body. How, exactly, do I explain to a sighted person how breathtaking it is to feel the softness of a woman's hair beneath my fingertips, and have it mean half as much as being able to see that person. I can't. Those of us who don't have functioning eyes have to look all the harder for beauty, in all things. Although that may seem like a burden to some, I relish it. I cannot be fooled by a beautiful face, hiding an evil heart. I can't judge a book by it's cover. The cover may as well be a blank canvas to me. Sometimes, I think that I may be one of the lucky ones. Matt Murdock, Daredevil
Words: 167 Current Mood:  thankful | | Monday, February 14th, 2005 | | 8:51 am |
Have you ever regretted a wish you made? Why/what happened?There were times. Aren't there always? Every child, at one time or another, angrily wished death upon mom and dad, right? Well, probably not people like Wilson Fisk. He didn't wish for deaths, he made them happen. Irrelevant to the question at hand. Wishes, and have I regretted any I've made...? I've wished Bullseye dead many times. Has yet to happen. Does that count? Matt Murdock, Daredevil
Words: 64 Current Mood: contemplative | | Sunday, February 13th, 2005 | | 9:01 am |
What does the word 'love' mean to you?Love. Well, it's about acceptance, above all, really. There are those that say that love's about attraction, about sex, about all the things that make up the entirely really enjoyable, physical side of love. They're being fooled. True, deep love is about being able to see the flaws in people, and look past them, to find the good that they may be hiding. It's about sacrifice, and about acceptance. Just one man's opinion, mind you. Matt Murdock, Daredevil
Words: 75 | | Monday, February 7th, 2005 | | 4:08 am |
Describe what your "happily ever after" would be like.I'm not convinced such a thing is possible. If we're speaking of the realm of fantasy, a giant "What If...?", perhaps... Elektra. A golden band on her finger. A white dress. Me in a tuxedo. Maybe a few years down the road, a boy named Franklin Jack Murdock, with her hair, and my chin. Her sais and my billy club put away in storage. Wilson in prison for life. I don't deal in fantasy, though. It makes you careless. Fantasy can make you dead. Current Mood:  cold | | Sunday, January 23rd, 2005 | | 10:29 am |
What's the furthest away you've ever been from the place you were born/created? How did you get there? Why did you go? Did you return or even want to come back to where you came from?The say that Hell is Other People. Not true. Unfortunately, I have personal knowledge. I had a crisis of spirit and confidence, years back. What brought it on isn't really that important...but what it amounted to was my going walkabout. I tried to cross the country on foot, like Caine from Kung Fu. I suppose I thought that I could work it out best on the road, spending time alone. Sometimes, foolish ideas get into your head, and they just never leave, don't they? I didn't spend the entire time alone. I encountered The Blob and Pyro, in a small town just outside of the Texas border. I made the acquaintance of two men who normally reside on the moon, Gorgon and Karnak. I even had a run-in with Ultron. And, during all this, I caught the attention of Mephisto and his "son", Blackheart. Apparently, at my lowest spiritual ebb, they decided to test me...to try to drive me to sin, to stain my soul and end up in their territory. Which I did. Briefly. So, you see, when I try to help people like Frank Castle, it's because I know what awaits them, if they're not careful. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Matt Murdock, Daredevil
Words: 206 Current Mood: contemplative | | Friday, January 21st, 2005 | | 10:41 am |
| | Monday, August 30th, 2004 | | 4:57 pm |
Do you believe in an afterlife?Wouldn't be a very good young Irish Catholic if I didn't, now would I? Of course I believe. I've seen hell. Well, not seen. Experienced. And if there's a Hell, then there's got to be a Heaven. There's got to be. It's where my dad is. It was his reward for dying like a man, dying for the sole reason of not wanting to disappoint me. When it's my time, I'll see him again. Yes, I believe. You've got to have faith. If you don't have that, you don't have anything. Matt Murdock, Daredevil
Words: 91 Current Mood: thoughtful | | Monday, August 23rd, 2004 | | 1:41 am |
Is there any truth to the saying: keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?Aside from my relationship with Typhoid, which I do not want to get into, I'd really very much prefer to keep my enemies at a distance, thank you. They get close, and that usually means people I care about die. Karen. Melvin Potter. Sister Maggie. Elektra. Too many deaths because I let my enemies get too close. I like them nice and distant, thank you. Do you have enemies?Yes. Oh, were you expecting more? I make the distinction between people I fight, and enemies. As for enemies? I'd say there's at least two: Wilson Fisk, and Bullseye. They've both taken personal things from me. That makes them enemies, not just opponents. Do you have more friends than enemies?Thankfully, yes. Matt Murdock, Daredevil
Words: 110 Current Mood:  peaceful | | Thursday, August 19th, 2004 | | 6:58 pm |
Money, fame or happiness, you can only have one... what would you rather have and why?Fame isn't all it's cracked up to be. I used to turn up my nose and sneer at the celebrities who complained about their lack of privacy. Then my secret was sold to the New York Post. Now, I can't go out to dinner without someone coming over to pay tribute to the new "Kingpin" of New York City. Sitting in my office, trying to take on a new case, and mobsters like Jigsaw show up, wanting my permission to pull a series of heists on the south side. Such is the price of fame. I can't get any work done, unless I pull on my mask. Money's never been that much of a concern either. I don't need much to live on. Comes from being raised in Hell's Kitchen. I can get by with very few creature comforts. It's not as though I need cable TV, after all. I suppose I'd choose happiness, for myself, for Elektra, for Foggy. Happiness for all those I love. Hell, I'm so used to being miserable, I might not recognize it when I have it. Matt Murdock, Daredevil
Words: 182 Current Mood: contemplative | | 6:45 pm |
What is your weapon of choice?There was this boy, back in the old neighborhood, when I was younger. His name was Jimmy Wray. Jimmy's father left when he was 4. His mother was a wonderfully sweet lady. Worked three jobs, to make sure Jimmy and his sister always had new clothes and shoes, always had food on the table...and she'd even somehow find the time to bring freshly baked cookies to Dad and I, every Sunday night. In the Kitchen, when you're a kid, it's all too easy to turn to crime to boost yourself up out. Jimmy saw friends fall into gangs, start selling drugs, knife people, and wind up dead or in jail. They had everything he didn't: Money, respect, power, women. Didn't stop Jimmy from doing what was right. Didn't keep Jimmy from being an example to his little sister, to his neighborhood...to me. What did Jimmy Wray have that none of those other kids did? Will. He had an indomitable will. He never stopped trying, never stopped fighting the world until the world rose up and took him down. Jimmy died when we were both 17. He was mopping up in my dad's gym, and locked up to go home at 1 in the morning, when he'd finished up. They said that Jimmy had been stopped by three guys from the neighborhood. That he'd refused to turn over his wallet. He couldn't have had any more than ten bucks in it. That's all Dad could afford to pay him when he finished up at the end of every night's shift. He fought until his last breath. He went down swinging. The greatest weapon in anyone's arsenal is will. Matt Murdock, Daredevil
Words: 279 Current Mood: melancholy | | Thursday, July 29th, 2004 | | 1:27 am |
What makes you jealous?Jealousy. It's the ugliest emotion, really. It curdles the tongues of the faithful and pious, it can ruin marriages, it can foul even the sweetest of minds. Do I get jealous? Doesn't everyone? There's not much I find to envy in other people. But late at night, when Elektra has slipped into sleep, and I'm left alone, reading Braille law reports, or listening to the city, there's one thing that I'm reminded of, again and again. Bullseye knows what color Elektra's eyes are, and I do not. What makes me jealous? Those who take their sight for granted. Sometimes, I'd give anything to be able to watch Mr. Smith Goes To Washington again. On nights like those, the hoods in Hell's Kitchen end up with extra bruises. I can be as petty as any man, sometimes... Matt Murdock, Daredevil
Words: 136 Current Mood: annoyed |
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