Anger

Anger is an unpleasant subject, thing, feeling. Should I raise the issue then, as a naughty child? At whom or what should our anger be directed, if anywhere? Ourselves? The angry ones? Physician, heal thyself.

During an anger management class in an English jail the students became angry, and a fight broke out. Who to blame? The teacher, the students, both or neither or the subject itself?

How may a calming influence be exerted and who should do the calming? You? Calm down a minute, I only asked.

Water hoses, rubber bullets, gulags and insane asylums, these have been tried and found wanting. What would work on you? Clint Eastwood? Make my day.

A spell in Broadmoor, the penal institute for the criminally insane, would that do you any good? What has you so angry? The state of the world, the people in it, the people running it or the people running amok? Have you considered flower arranging, needlepoint, embroidery or Sudoku? To take your mind off things.

You could be an internet fanatic although there you would be subject to haters if you did not become one yourself. It’s a mad world, it has been said, would you be better off dead? I won’t encourage you in that direction, the graveyards are full enough.

Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, listen to Mozart. Or Buddy Holly or Dolly. That might calm you down.

I, for one, need another coffee and must walk across the room to get it, am I frustrated, annoyed, do I burn down the house or otherwise explode? No, I light a cigarette, the coffee and I can wait. For how long? Until I get tired waiting.

Am I angry, ever? Yes. Do I vent my anger, my spleen? Sometimes, to my regret. Why are things as they are? Is this the human condition and am I living through it? If you call this living.

I suppose so, its all we’ve got. Are other people awful? Who, the angry ones? Am I of their number, one of them or of the others? The peaceful ones, the ones who get shot and blown up by the angry ones? Well, so far so good or not so bad, I have not quite gone mad. Assuming anger and its effects are mad, which I do. How about you? Do I hear, me too?

The world takes a lot of putting up with, that is certainly the case, it lacks grace. Oh human race!

The best thing is to do the best you can do. I would if I was you.

Now another cigarette and then that coffee, ring a friend and do some other things I have to do, all of which will make my life better.

In the old days I would write a letter. Which I sometimes do. Still. I’m not completely over the hill.

Perhaps coming down the other side. What may people say about me, he lived, he died. He tried.

I end as I began, an older man. Goodbye, that’s it, don’t cry.

No tear in any eye.

My cry.

Tich Ennis

8th August, 2016

 

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