"Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words." -- Robert Frost
Am I PMS-ing? Or is it possible that nearly everyone I have encountered in the last few days actually is an asshole? I think it's a little early for Aunt Flo, which leaves only one alternative -- almost everyone around me is an asshole. I'll save the specifics for now, it might make a good column, informing the general public about the unbelievable schmucks that share this city with us simple, considerate folk.
My patience is wearing thin. Despite my hard workout this morning, the extra force, the extra sweat, fueled by my rage for nincompoops, I'm still on a short fuse. Only one thing to do. Go eat the next meal of the day with my love, give him a kiss, and head across the street to have some tea and kick some ass in the productivity department.
We must direct our energy somewhere, negative or positive. Mine happens to be negative right now, so I'll do my best to direct it into my work and not at anyone close to me. Or, if luck will have it, I'll run into one of the assholes and win myself a verbal duel to the egotistical death.
Sigh. I feel better already!