Thunderstorm

This tune is in my head this morning:

Moves like a fist through traffic
Anger and no one can heal it
Shoves a little bump into the momentum
It’s just a little lump
But you feel it
In the creases and the shadows
With a rattling, deep emotion
The cool, cool river
Sweeps the wild, white ocean

Paul Simon, The Cool, Cool River—go listen to it. It’s brill and it’s where I’m at, I think, this morning.

Later in the song is the lyric The rage, the rage of love turns inward. I always hear that as The rage, the rage turns inward—without the love part. Why? Because that’s what happens all too damn often when I’m in a steaming, mad fury. The anger, on its tidal wave-ish heated flight wants a target, something to explode against so the bile can be released. The storm looks for ground zero.

Often but certainly not always, I catch myself before decimating the poor twat who’s pissed me off. The offense may be as small as a driver neglecting to signal a turn in traffic. It could be as big as a customer service type who’s being dismissive, unhelpful or generally incompetent. A word or three of correction may well be in order but the blast of scathing, sarcastic wrath is best kept on a leash.

Without release the anger builds. Sometimes, I’m not even aware that I’m at or near fury point so the mushrooming ire is a ticking bomb.

What happens next? The rage, the rage turns inward.

I don’t sleep though the night. I’m up in the wee hours excoriating myself for crimes ranging from having a third hot toddy or not getting out to exercise the previous day to not cooking a nice enough dinner for The Amazing Bob or forgetting his evening pills. At 1AM I am my most formidable enemy.

Yesterday, with Janice’s help, I realized that, lately, I’ve been toting a dumpster full of rage. I’ve even been shaking my fists at obnoxious, offensive billboards, shouting at them, FUCK YOU. Yeah, I’m a real treat.

What’s this all about? Not being able to hear music, specifically, right now, Bowie.

I want to scream and rampage as if that could bring Aladdin Sane, Heroes, The Secret Life of Arabia, Scary Monsters and a whole fuck-ton more, back to me. Instead, today I’ll go for a long walk, maybe start a new painting, clean and do my level best to safely, humanely redirect the rage.