Feeling feisty, verging on furious

[Julie Lomoe]

Is it spring, or is it just me? Usually I'm reasonably mellowed out (which means moderately mood-swingy, but under control) but in the past week I've gotten uncharacteristically angry on several occasions.

It's now Monday noon in upstate New York, and it was almost exactly one week ago last Monday morning when I uttered the F-word in my exercise class when the instructor snuck up on me from behind and corrected my moves. (She had us on our knees, our exercise matts facing the wall, and gazing into the mirrors at our reflections while Celine Dion sang an excruciating version of "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face." Yech! Wouldn't you swear too?) She said, "I want to talk with you after class," and then told me that if I ever used "that kind of language" again, I would be banned forever. Too bad, because I really like the class, so much so that I don't want to identify it here, because I do want to go back. Today I'm playing hooky, though.

Thre've been a couple of other instances I won't describe - I didn't swear, but I got rather vehement. But this morning I read George Will's column, titled "Hateful political atmosphere breeds anger." He mentions a book by Peter Wood titled "A Bee in the Mouth: Anger in America Now," which talks about "anger chic." So it seems I'm in fashion!

I think I'll write a poem about anger, then go read it at an open mic tonight. At Albany's Lark Tavern, the last Monday of every month has a "Poets Speak Loud" night. A great therapeutic outlet for mystery writers - you can turn out a poem in an afternoon and get applauded for it the same night. Nearly instant gratification. They have great hamburgers too, but I've given up beef for Lent (although I'm not religious, but that's another story.)