On Feeling Angry

I walked through downtown Oakland yesterday and it began to rain again even as the sun was peeking through the clouds. I looked up into the sky and saw a triple rainbow, stretching across even the exposed patches of blue sky. It was obscenely lovely and I hated it’s beauty, which seemed so inappropriate. The rainbow is God’s promise not to drown the world again by flood and it seemed mocking. What’s worth saving in this ugly place? I looked at a dog shitting on the sidewalk ahead. A woman next to me noticed the weather and said loudly, “Uhoh, the Devil is whupping his wife again! I wonder what she did this time?” and then asked me for money. I told her she wasn’t funny. Not funny at all, but at least her mythology seemed a better fit. And laughing at this kind of misery, well, that has a place in this world. This ugly place, watched over by a worthless creator, simperingly promising not to wash us out, no matter how much we deserve it.

There is a war against women. Not just a metaphorical glass ceiling war, but a war fought with blood and violence. A war winked and nodded at, the subject of panhandling jokes and police inaction. Their is no single front. No tank to stand in front of. No easy target for counter-attack. No obvious action to take. So I simmer in rage and wish God dead.

“The universe tends towards justice” my friends say, but justice is so inadequate. Even vengeance seems empty. Ten of his lives are not worth this one of hers. There is nothing to take from him that comes near what he has taken from us. And to wait for divine retribution from the same gods that let this happen is too little. Everything is too little.

My anger is a single drop of rain in the downpour. A helpless tear. An empty gesture.

Published by

Charles Céleste Hutchins

Supercolliding since 2003

4 thoughts on “On Feeling Angry”

  1. *hugs* When people tell me that his karma will catch up with him, I want to punch whoever is talking in the face….there are no words for these feelings, there are just too many of them. I’m thinking of you.

  2. Hahahaha

    Yeah, we’re not supposed to feel too angry. The american system relies on us not feeling rage, not acting out, not smashing patriarchy, not putting the boot into the owning classes, not making a fuss, waiting for somebody else (or nobody else, like karma) to fix things for us while we watch TV and think pleasant thoughts.

    You know what was awesome about T was that she participated fully. She loved pop culture, but she also took action.

  3. feel what you feel, first, last, and always.

    for most of the first part of my life, rage was my default emotion. cara civilized me, and i figured out how to start from somewhere other than the top of my lungs.

    it’s kinda odd, though, to be consumed with anger toward an invisible sky entity. surely there’s some more useful target.

    since the invisible sky entity probably doesn’t exist.

  4. There is a much more corporeal target for my anger, but equally out of my reach. Apparently, it’s too much to hope that the police act, so I might as well curse sky gods. It’s the very definition of impotent rage, alas.

    I’m not in the same place I was when I wrote this. I can’t maintain that kind of white hot anger very long before I start to feel like a giant is standing on my chest. I’m trying to focus on music and finishing my degree.

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