I am NOT HAPPY today. All caps misery. No, not misery. Discontent. This is the season of my massive massive discontent. What the fuck, man. I am sick to death of this shit.

I feel all restless and wild, like I'm just about to do some serious damage to the world. I feel unpredictable. I am ready to just beat and fly and swing and run. I want to get in a fight, I want the insults to flow, sarcasm and wit and liveliness all together. I want my anger and frustration to sparkle evilly. I want someone to come over to my house and we will sit on the floor and name everything wrong with the world. I want to growl and howl at the moon. And when that's done I want to wrestle a freight train. I want to be run over and impressed. I want to be impressed and surprised by the sharp sharp wit of someone in the world.

I love sincerity and I love sarcasm and I love an evil wit. But evil in the right sort of way. I cannot explain it. Sometimes Derring Do has the perfect pitch to his evilness, sometimes he's just an ass. Blythe can get her evil on perfectly. Bathsheba too. I want to rant and to be completely over the top silly. I want to make fun of you and I want to make fun of me and I want everyone in the room to know I don't mean nothing by it.

It's true. Sometimes, some days, I think I'm losing my mind I get so crazy. I want to bust out of this place, this staid existence, want to destroy all discussion. I don't want to talk seriously about anything ever again. Seriousness has its place, I suppose, but it should only be allowed out maybe once, maybe twice, a year. Can't stand it. Serious talk, serious discussion, most often it makes me want to rage afterward. I just want to spit, to get rid of the taste in my mouth. Serious discussion saps me of all will to move on and the only antidote is to get good and fighting mad. And it's like, I don't know, it's like sometimes I'll participate in such discussions even though I know it's the death of me because I know it matters to someone else. I can do that on occasion, but not often y'all and inevitably, I will want to kill things afterward.

I don't believe in the value of discussion, I guess. This is what I believe: you teach people how you want to be treated by acting in the world, by being an active participant in your life. You don't teach people how you want to be treated by telling them.

I hate softness. I hate cutesy. I hate pink. I hate flowers except in the wild, except when the bees get randy.

I love bold and brash and risky and wild and hard and fearless and moving and hilarity and sarcasm and sharpness and speed. I love being told, you're crazy when I run too fast down the mountain by someone running after me. That's right. I'm crazy and crazed. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I just want to fucking do it. And if you stand by and think that I'll just let you watch, will be all right with that, you're dead wrong. You get moving too, get active, move forward, stop thinking, everybody in all the lands, stop thinking and talking already, just bloody well run like your life depends on it.