Wow.

Ain't done that in a while.
But, I did last night.
(And, no... unfortunately, I am NOT talking about sex, damn it.)

I mean, it was fucked, but not that way.

I feel a LOT these days, like I'm becoming somebody I barely know.
Mostly, it's all good.
Like, the job, my (was gonna say "equalibrium", but I think that's pushing it)... my not freaking out (yet) over all the shit from last month, not actively plotting the death of every licensed driver in this Commonwealth (as much) as I drive these mean streets and other assorted odd, yet good, behaviors like that.

Things I usedta do, I don't anymore and things that never even occured to me to do, I'm doing.

Well, last night I was revisited by one of my former selves.

The "Enraged Warrior from Hell's Gate" version came a-callin'.
It's an impressive display, this "nano-second from committing murder" aspect of my personality, but it's also mostly useless.

I mean, I can't really let myself kill anybody, so I break things.
Which is actually an improvement, in that when I first "met" this "me" lo, those many years ago, I used to hit shit.
Hard.
Many times, even.
Like, walls and cars and trees.
All that did was keep me from killing people 'cause it hurt my hand.
Always my right hand, too.
Of course.

Well, after a few spells of not being able to do shit for about a week at a time while my hand shrank back to normal size and function returned, it occured to me that I'd maybe better find a better way to vent, lest I wind up crippled for life.
While I am somewhat ambitextrious, the entire planet is geared for "righties", ya know?

So, I started throwing shit.

Started out with cinderblocks around the yard.
I'd go outside and just throw a cinderblock, go get it, throw it again and again and again, til I was too tired to do anything else, let alone anything destructive, usually just screaming inarticulate rage the whole time.
One time, I didn't have a cinderblock, so I yanked my pasture gate, a great big long ol' thing, off it's hinges and threw that a few times.
Re-hung it when I was done and went about my business, spent.

I used to get PISSED.
"Pissed" doesn't even cover it.
There is no word in ANY language that describes what I used to feel.
My biceps would literally ache to bunch up and apply pressure to throats, til whomever's throat it was (or whatever's, tho inanimate objects don't often have throats) was dead.
Now days, I mostly just itch to smack the taste outta asshole's mouths, as opposed to wholesale murder, thank God, but still....

Last night I. went. OFF.

The whole thing lasted maybe 5 or ten minutes, but, daaaamn man.
I freaked.

See, another of these odd things I seem to do a lot of these days, is to wanna lay on the floor, out here near the TV, as opposed to "in the bathroom with the door shut", again an improvement in my mind.
Why I don't just go to bed, I dunno, except that usually when I do this, it's because I don't wanna sleep sleep, just relax and maybe catch a catnap for a while, I think.

Anyway, I was doing just that a few days back and the stupid cats upset my lidded and locked great big-assed cup of iced tea on the floor near me and I got wet from it while I was "relaxing".
I came to kinda damp and sticky and got pissed.
"Normal" pissed, in that I just bitched about it and washed the shit I was laying on.

Well, the dickheads did it again to me last night.
Only this time, I had the goddamned tea in another lidded and closed cup up on the godammned table.
AWAY from me.
JUST SO THEY COULDN'T DO IT AGAIN.
Ya know?

Well, they did anyway.
I don't know who it was, but SOME asshole went up there, knocked the cup over and I awoke to what sounded like a cow pissin' on a flat rock mere inches from my head.

WHAT DA FUCK?
Who... what... YOU BASTARDS!!!!!!!

That was IT.
And "it" was WAR!

I don't even remember half the shit I screamed at no one in particular, but a lot of it was kinda like "Jewish-Mom" guilt trip shit.
Something about, "Fine. Fuck me. I don't have the fuckin' right to lay on the floor without getting soaked in tea, huh? Well, FUCK THAT SHIT" and other such insightful things.
This, while I was throwing the cup across the kitchen, throwing the cowpillows back through the service-window thing back into the livingroom along with the throw blanket (what a co-inky-dink, huh?) and getting madder and madder.

By the time I was through, less than 10 minutes total mind you (and this includes Round Two, a briefer yet still destructive flare-up), there was not a cat to be seen in this room, there was iced tea slung across the kitchen floor, a busted cup laying there too, a broken empty candle jar I had miscellaneous shit in, a broken back scratcher and I was outta breath, yet still yelling.
I was gone... just gone, back to that red and black colored world where my rage is born.

Landscape ain't changed much in these last hundred or so years.
Still bleak, barren and filled with negative energy that wants to suck you in, if it can.
I think when it does is when people do shit that the world is aghast at.
Like Manson or those picked on losers at Columbine.

I felt it.
That thrumming power that says, "G'head. Throw it. Break, smash, destroy, kill..."

And, I told it to fuck off and it did.
Mostly.

But...
oh, it's a good thing I don't have ready access to firearms.
Or explosives.
Or any other fun stuff like that.
I can see me using it, or them.
Maybe not ON anybody, but using them all the same to get that profound expension of energy out and away from me.

I picture myself outfitted like Animal Mother in Full Metal Jacket.
I'm standing there, enraged at what?, I can't explain, but I release it by a full throated, raw shriek from the very core of my soul while I just shoot ammo belts fulla rounds straight up into the air, yes, from my MACHINE GUNS.
Hasta be machine guns, too.
Ain't no pissant pistol or damned deer gun gonna do for this one.

What happened to Eric? Didja kill 'im or something?, I can hear y'all wondering...

No.
He was safe.
Hell, he's always safe, even if it's him I'm pissed at, which is rarer than hen's teeth.
I'd NEVER go after him.
It's not in me to do that.
Plus, after what I know he's been put through, I still couldn't do it, even if I could.
Ya know what I mean?
He's exempt, except for witnessing my meltdowns.
Poor kid....
*giggle*

Anyway, he heard the beginnings of it, I guess.
Last he knew, I was mostly asleep on the floor, with Helter Skelter on the TV (yes AGAIN).
Next thing he knows, he hears me hollering and things landing hard in various places.

He came out here, saw me and saw I was currently unarmed with anything to throw (except a handful of tea-soaked, hence SOFT, papertowels), so he came on in and started helping me clean up the tea in the kitchen, which I was already doing while still hollering at the world in general.

We got that done and I was starting to come down.

He goes back to wrestling or whatever, then I see my ashtray is wet, too, from the initial spillage of tea and had one more flash of rage, where I clean the ashtray, then threw it back onto the desk, breaking the candle jar and knocking the back scratcher onto the floor.

He heard the glass break, but wisely, I think, elected to sit it out and keep watching wrestling.

I grabbed the broken glass (and yes, got a tiny cut on one finger... karma, don'cha know), threw, no SLAMMED it into the trash can and swept everything else into the top drawer, then tried three times to pick up the back scratcher.
It kept dropping back to the floor, so I finally snatched it up and snapped it in half for re-pissin' me off.

Had to use my knee to git the job done, but I by-God did it.
Fuckin' stupid thing.
How DARE it fuck with me then?
It was so stupid, it DESERVED to die.
Know what I mean?

Jesus....

Anyway, I don't know if all this happened because of the shit from last month, or pressure about money, or post-terroist-visit shit, or from being awake 30-some hours again or just because I'm nuts.

Too many possible suspect reasons in this case to be able to pinpoint what caused it.

I'm hoping now it was because I was tired.
If that was the proverbial "last straw", then I'm good to go, because I went to bed shortly after that.

If it was post-menstural shit, that's also good because that'll piss off soon.

However, if it's because of all the shit from last month or worrying about money, that could be a bitch to "fix", 'cause there's nothing I can do about any of it.

I can't un-do last month and I can't go kill the BC (God, why can't she be "available" just ONCE during an episode like this. Talk about perfect timing if she ever was... I'd go on and kill her for the greater good and at least be locked up for something real, which I soooo could live with).

But, the money shit WILL end.
I know that, so that can't really be it, can it?

It's just a little scary, is all.
Like I said, if I fuck up this time, it'll be worse than ever before, because it won't be me fuckin' just me again.
Can't have that.
But, I know it's got an end to it.
So, theoretically, I oughta be able to handle that without even breaking a sweat, I'd like to think.

As for "post-terrorist-visit" behavior, Eric did predict I'd be pissy yesterday by the time I got home from work.
He was right.
In spades.

But, not even the worst "terrorist visit" usually results in that kinda behavior from me.
Usually, I'm just moody and cry a lot over stupid shit.

So, I don't know.
I don't know what caused this and I don't know about ME sometimes.

Last night, except for the actual behavior, ain't no big deal, I guess.
I now have more room on my desk, I have another back scratcher (and Eric) and approximately 7000 of those stupid cups, soooo... the actual damge is negligable.
No biggie.

Still... I'd just as soon not do that too often, ya know?

I'd like to think this is yet another one of those "I'm too old for this shit" things.
It'd be the first GOOD one I've come across, if it ever is one.

('Course, I did, just this second, tell this stupid computer that it's "getting on my dick nerve, ya asshole".)
*rolls eyes*

On that note...
I'm outta here for now.

Peace, y'all...

Posted by: Stevie at 01:32 PM

Comments

Posted by: dee at July 08, 2005 01:47 PM (sZnML)

Posted by: Mad Mikey at July 08, 2005 04:25 PM (NmR1a)

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