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May 26, 2004
A simmering, sharp-edged thunder cloud of anger – objectless, really, or rather all encompassing, having boiled well past the initial causal factors and into a state of blind hatred towards everything and everyone that comes across one’s path. The spring-time frustrations and disappointments of teaching, the hypocritical demands of a ground-level bureaucracy, stirred violently together with a cabin-spring-fever humidity. After work, I punched an SUV after the driver failed to yield while I had the walk sign; had he stopped to shout, I think I would have pulled him from the car and kicked him in the face until it bleed.