One of the more interesting facets of what I am going through psychologically right now is completely unpredictable rage. I woke up with it, took it out on the golf course with me and ruined what otherwise might have been a perfectly good day. You see, I can get away with writing this shit here because this a blog with a readership of one.

This is all classic PTSD and I desperately need to get some help with it. Oh, and believe me I know how that would all start. First, a 72 hour psychiatric hold in some shit facility that smells like piss surrounded sad individuals all glued to the same spot on the globe. Of course I am going to delete this post as soon as I am done here because blogs are meant for happy talk, witty talk, maybe a spoon full of sugar to make the medicine go down. I have none of that today. I simply have blistering anger.

I’m sure it started with my fucked up performance at the library. Then a couple of “fresh of the press” videos from Dave Pizzoferrato going well beyond wallowing in his own make believe grief and sorrow. Yea, I get it for the hundredth time, your wife left you. You’re broken hearted and you want the world to share in your shallow shallow sorrow. Well Dave, fuck you. I have had enough, just don’t send me that shit. You want to snap out of it and get a life? Give me a call. Until then, I repeat….fuck you.

Thank god I have a book to work on. I can at least spend the day cloistered away in my makeshift studio and hide behind the microphone. I am going to medicate the shit out of myself and wait and pray that tomorrow will be a new day and I will be someone on the normal human scale for at least a few hours.