I’m just angry. I’m so angry all of the time and it’s the fact that I can’t control it that really grates on me. Or certainly that’s one of the things that does.
I don’t *really* understand why I am so angry, but I am. There is a great pressure that I feel from all sides, possibly the age old “mid-twenties crisis” of which I have heard so much. I resent even artistic collaborators, partners, allies. I resent everything and everyone, but never myself. Anything I am expected to do makes me angry, and I float on a sea of passive aggression.
It can come on without much in the way of provocation. I can be in, actually, quite a positive mood, and then suddenly something very small will happen that will send me elsewhere.
I see militia on the streets all the time. I see plots and conspiracy when there are none. I see myself in the mirror, and I think “you need a fucking haircut, son”.
It’s all very difficult. I’ll keep my head down. I am at work. A drain on my time. But there again, what isn’t? What do I really, actually, enjoy doing? Occasionally when I am engaged in my artistic work, it will feel good. But generally it is another kind of work, and the politics and socialising involved in making a success out of it terrify and bore me more often than they thrill me.
I think I’m just angry. It’s 10:19am and I’m at work and I really, really want a drink in order to feel less angry and more numb. I’ve just had a very strong coffee, which won’t have helped.
Why am I writing this when I have so much else to do?
I could fucking cry, sometimes. I really could.