A while ago, I wrote a infamously funny but nasty, mean spirited screed on the south and southern people. The iPhone ate it. At first, I was bummed - most of my funniest material comes from the deepest, most primitive part of me - the hurt child in me, the cornered animal, the wounded girl. All of these have the same drive and motivation at the core - anger. And, over the years, I have tried to find some acceptable way to express (and then release) this. I found it to be humor. It's effective as a release, most of the time doesn't turn me into a pariah, and it takes a bit of charme and intelligence to pull it off. And. Most of the time. I can pull it off.

The poison prose I wrote was an unleashing of an avalanche of anger towards a place and a people of which I had believed wronged me. I had acquiesced to a lot of demands made of me by these people. I had become more docile and content, I keep using this term but it seems appropriate - I danced to their tune because they had judged me wrong in my own dance and I did try to assimilate to some extent. It was demanded of me I should care more, be invested more, be more a piece of the picture. The anger and hurt was from being again judged lacking and then discarded. The wound comes from making myself vulnerable and then being rejected - and on top of that, being rejected on standards that I find different from my own. There is a little anger directed towards myself for going against my initial instincts and, opening up.

I remember something I had wrote, and trust me, this was one of the more mild of lines I had penned not more than two hours ago: "I am being examined by little munchkin southern women build like russian tanks with sticks so far up there asses, you could use the as coat racks..." I do believe I used the phrase 'pig fuckers' at one point - maybe even 'evolutionarily- challenged'. Um. Maybe even said something about the ones who had opposable thumbs couldn't use them because they had them so far up their own asses. Well. When I am angered, I tend to go with it full throttle. But, when I am happy or full of passion or filled with love, I to tend go full throttle with that, too. And I understand if one doesn't like that, then I'd be the first one to show you the door. But don't lie to me. Don't seduce me into opening up only to judge me inadequate as a friend or lover or person. Be honest. Be straightforward.

I do believe right now, I know the people I can count on, those who are solid pieces of my foundation here. I can count them on one hand. I do need to keep a bit of a perspective, if I swing too far into the red, my pendulum will go as far into the blue, and I want to be done mourning.

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