Not Angry

Ok, I’m not angry anymore, it’s not worth it. I’m not angry at all, I’m quite calm. It’s not worth the effort or the paper it’s written on. A waste of time, a waste of effort, lie down now and shut up. Keep your powder dry and your ice cream frozen. Don’t play their game, they keep telling us we must be angry, why, nothing is ever, ever solved by being angry.
I reckon they’ve sussed out that if they keep us in angry frame, day to day, then we are easier to control.

I’ll start again afresh, draw a line, catch a boat, set off on a journey, pack my things, sharpen my pencil and count my clean underwear, consider the options and tuck in the corners.

I’m leaving anger behind, whilst sitting here in front of the screen, I’m leaving it all well alone.  Making a new trail in the woods by the stream, don’t stray too far from the path, there’s anger in them there trees.

Its not as if I can make a difference by angrying, I can’t change the course of the oil tanker or enlighten the electorate. I can’t bring down any tyrants or raise up the disenfranchised. Angry is not constructive.

Ok then, think of ways to stop being angry. Jumping up and down, no, that’s making it worse. Relax, take a breath, wash my face, that’s better, but I can still feel the anger waiting to get in. I need a permanent solution or at least something that I can use in times of trouble.

Think about preparing the best picnic ever, go swimming, quiet the mind and stop hyping everything into a storm. I’ll do a drawing of something quiet, a tree with no wind, a serene seascape or a sleeping cat, that should help.

I could walk aimlessly by the canal whistling a merry or fashion a paper plane to amuse. I could spend time without or build a wall in the garden where no wall was there before or paint the scullery. What is a scullery anyway? Is it where you keep the skulls? If it is full of skulls, I should definitely paint it, they will look great. I wonder who they were anyway, friends and relations or enemies and strangers, all equally skully now. Makes a girl think. I shall be a skull one day, maybe not even the skull on top of the pile. Maybe just a skull halfway down the pile with the jawbone detached and swept up in an anonymous pile of left over bones by the door.

Lesson to hoist on board with a rope, I think. Why waste time being angry now when you can be an angry skull for all eternity. Bones in a separate alcove looking like a woven wall. All a bit dark.

What is the word for someone who is not angry?