A Fistful of Anger 1

I am full of anger. I am a yellow man filled with anger. The truth is, I don't even know why I am angry any more. That's how angry I am. Before, I was angry that I was a sexless, yellow man, harmless to everyone, not changing one thing. I felt like a footnote to reality that no one read. Now, I want to be a sexless, angry man, begging to be a footnote to history.

It's a funny thing, this thing called reality. I'm not quite sure what the hell it is. Before, white girls use to ignore me. Now that I'm angry and sexless, mind you, they want to talk to me. They want to talk my anger down as if my anger were something that needed talking down. The truth is, I am really angry because they want me to calm down:

"It's all good," she says.

I just want to take a gun and shoot myself in the head. It's all good.

"What's all good, you bitch?"

"Don't call me bitch. That's disrespectful."

"What's all good?"

"Whatever happens to you is good?"

I just don't how to respond to her at all. Over time, I've learned that she's ok. She's not one of those stupid bitches that pretend that she's never screwed over a Korean for fun. Or is she one of those bitches who dated a Korean so he could help her with her with her math homework.

It's not all good. Life is fucked. People try to fuck you over for fun. Everyone uses everyone and everyone has been screwed over at one point. That's why I decided not to associate with anyone. I live alone in a hole in Newark, the armpit of America.

"Why do you hang around me?"

I know why. You feel sorry for me. I'm a pity case."

"it's all good."

"Stop saying that. You're annoying the hell out of me."

"Why don't you just move back to Korea?"

"I don't have enough money for a plane ticket."

She giggles. She finds me amusing. I think that's why she hangs around me. I try to kiss her.

"You're disgusting," she slaps me.

A long, long time ago, I wanted to be a writer. Now, I'm hitting the bottle, hitting the bottle, my soul in the bar, tending my mind, tending my soul.

It's not that hard to understand my anger. Before, I was angry because I wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted to have the girl, I wanted to have the house, and I wanted to have the American wife. I don't want any of that anymore. ALL i want now is to do as i fucking well please. that's how far i've gotten down the highway of life.

is it such a sin? everyone else pretty much does exactly as they please and they rationalize and justify it to death just as well.