Anger Management and blogging

So for the last several months, my big problem has been walking through my life in a state of almost uncontrollable fury. I don't mean a sort of lame, stamp-your-feet fury, but the kind of homicidal rage that got me into so much trouble earlier in my life.

I've successfully frightened my kid, alienated everyone who knows me at all, and am personally miserable trying to control a basic, murderous aggression.

Honestly, a lot of it was making a totally ill-advised effort to 'clean up' a blog so as to present a decent front, but I've realized that if my writing here can't be honest, I'm fucked. All the invective, nuttiness, violence, and horrible behavior is really just how I am. I'm pretty scary. I spend a lot of my time talking myself out of doing bad things, not all the time with any kind of success. However, I was successful today in the following exchange:

Buck Banger, idly flipping his pencil while slouching Diddy-fashion: "What the fuck you looking at, motherfucker? I don't like motherfuckers lookin at me".

Me, sitting and writing in a journal: "Huh? I'm just waiting for the bell to ring. I'm not looking at anything in particular".

Actual, mental conversation :

Buck Banger, thinking: "God DAMN I be bored wid dis motherfuckin shit! Why I gotta do dis shit? Dis here shit be wrong. These mothafuckas be treatin me! What the fuck dis White boy be fuckin lookin at?"

Me, thinking: "Is there any way at all I can use his handling of that pencil as interpreting it as him using it as a weapon? Because I want to kill this piece of shit. I have my heavy metal pen in my right hand, faking writing down notes, and I want to jam this motherfucker into his eye, then subclavian artery in front of his motherfucking homies. And they won't jump on me, because they think I'm some pussy teacher and won't be ready, and I'll be able to take them one at a time to fuck them all up. I bet I can kill two and cripple the other three".

My decision: Remembering old cops I've met for whom all invective and verbal abuse was water off a duck's back, and simply... this is hard, son of a BITCH! let it go.

Just let this motherfucker's shit go. Let it go, Joel. Let it go. 20 more minutes. Deal with it. Sit tight. Let it go. Don't fuck up your life by killing this worthless punk. Wait. Ah, there we go. Maybe he'll do some stupid shit on the outside, later on, and you can kill him there and no-one will know. Yeah, that's it. Wait. Just wait. Maybe the wait will fade the hate.

Maybe.