I stay stoned for a real long time, and then when I go sober for a few days, and I'm angry the whole time. Then I start to smoke again and use the sober time to write with.
Everything, really. The news, the world, people, all of it. Well, not that everything pisses me off all the time, but there's always a chance of anything from anywhere setting anyone off. That said, I'm rarely extremely angry. It all depresses me more than anything else.
There's so much potential in the world, but that's worth fuck all to the majority of us. Us in the global sense, I mean. The collective Us, as in those of us here, probably care a great deal about many things.
Or not. How should I know? The whole thing is just depressing...(sigh)
People. Cheerful ignorance in the face in financial responsibility. The world when the sun has to come out and ruin a perfectly gray day. Customer service. Knowing exactly what needs to be done and being told not to do it. Anything involving yeomen. And raccoons. Filthy bastards.
i started this so i should answer i think. microsoft updates that reset your computer before you have saved your work; rich people; poor people; people; people that are stupider than me; people that are smarter than me. over-use of irony. wankers that think being post-modern is an excuse for saying wanky things in an ironic way. stickers -- as in these bloody plant things that get everywhere and stick their spikes into you. foster's home for imaginary friends -- it turns children into monsters. there are more but i don't want to sound too much of a miserable bastard. well, at least not all in one go
Stories I write that go nowhere, women who've stayed long enough to take and leave, friends well spent by heroin and cocaine, religion, magazines dedicated to Hollywood, pool halls with thirty year old huntresses, lack of sleep, too much sleep, songs sung by Courtney Love, tattoos gotten for no purpose and with no meaning. I don't think I'm an angry man, I have just become well acquainted with what pisses in my hat.
Just being in this world is enough; I have insta-bile the second I wake up. The hard part is using the bile in a constructive manner for what I'm writing at that particular moment, which usually involves a lot of loud music and attempting to leave my mind and inhabit the mind of the character.
I'd go with fucking stupid people (not as an activity, although it is commensurately easier than doing the intelligent, but as a description).
My bile comes from my twisted soul. Oh yes. Oh yes and no mistake...
Also, living in halls with 252 other people, most of whom have loud, conflicting and poor tastes in music. Late at night. So late it's early & I'm trying to sleep.
"As I put it at the time to a friend of mine around the time U.S. soldiers who killed Iraqi civilians started getting ridiculously light sentences , "Upset? I'm barely surprised." "
For me it was the celebration of "Don't tase me, bro" we've progressed past acceptance of torturing peoplr with electric shocks to regarding such torture as funny.
Lately? People telling me who I am, deciding what my (race / circumstances / family history) mean. Which, for clarity's sake, is a very different thing from telling me what I'm like.
I'm a big fucking joke to everyone. I have an easy life compared to a lot of people, and nothing I have to say matters. I laugh until I choke, and what rises in my throat..
Bill O'Reilly. Christmas specials. Non-ironic Valley Girl-talk. The future not turning out how I want it. The lack of places with huge fireplaces, endless cabinets of well-made cream soda and baskets of key limes, and endless supply of interesting people coming in and out of the building, and comfortable seating. The lack of good music these days.
On the other hand, I'm not a terribly choleric writer. Now melancholy, that I can do.
Or, worse, other people investing the meaningless minutiae of their lives with artificially great significance loudly and at great length in my general vicinity.
My bile comes from the frustration I feel trying to connect with the majority of my community... There's a few folks who don't think I'm a crazy sexually deviant conspiracy theory nutjob... but not too many...I get vile, unfair looks from my podunk community...so my bile rises at the thoughts of unfair predjudice and close mindedness...
I also have a disdain for the human race and what we've done to this planet. that comes out alot in my paintings.