Tuesday, November 25, 2008

I keep recycling the same old thoughts

Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Despite my aggressive outrage, my obvious arrogance, my calculated cuntishness, there are moments when I find myself looking deep within my sordid soul only to discover that yes, this one time, I am not making this shit up.

I often feel aggrieved. Slightly slighted. Put upon, perhaps. Clearly condescended to. And mostly it's my imagination hard at work, nose to the grindstone, desperate in its need to seek out an offence that will justify my anger with this stupid fucking planet and this clownish fucking life. And when my imagination lights upon this offence, then I can rant and rave and rage and rail and find, however briefly, relief.

On occasions like this, however, when I know myself to have been genuinely and purposefully wounded, right there in my dangly feelings, I cannot summon up my beast of bluster. I just sit here stunned, longing for the time when I didn't give a fuck what people did with their pathetically dramatic lives.

8 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

Ellie said...

It may make you feel better to know that the clock you got at that market all those years ago fell off the bookshelf last night and hit me on the head.
I am assuming I'm going to find this funny when the bump subsides.

gimme a minute said...

Ellie:
Oh fuck, that's terrible.

Is it ok?

Ellie said...

It is. I am not.

Conan Drumm said...

Gimme, I always knew there was a sensitive soul writing all this Mr Angry stuff. At least as sensitive as Ellie's bonce.

fatmammycat said...

Poor Ellie, that sound bloody painful.

gimme a minute said...

Ellie:
I can't help but wonder how this accident happened.

I don't really want to know, but I can't help but wonder.

Conan:
I'm a delicate flower, I am.

Fatmammycat:
Yes, poor Ellie and her actual physical pain.

fatmammycat said...

Oh I'm sorry Darling, poor you and your...er, boiling internal rage (?).

gimme a minute said...

Fatmammycat:
That's more like it.

 
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