…When what I’m angry about is all the other angry white guys who also happen to be stupid, gullible, rage-addled, entitled douchebags?
Honestly, I’d made a conscious vow to lay low over the summer and on into November, partly to continue work on the novel that won’t seem to end, partly to enjoy more time with my family and friends, but mostly to alleviate the caustic, cumulative effects of a long and bitter political season.
I couldn’t do it. I went to my doctor the other day and discovered exceedingly high–dangerously high–levels of bile in my system, as well as a large amount of detritus lodged in my craw. Both, I was warned, can be life-threatening if not addressed swiftly. Luckily for me, both conditions can be mitigated (there is no total cure, one can only address the symptoms) through incision and drainage, releasing pressure and toxins as one would lance a boil.
Consider much of what’s to come a direct result of that process. And be warned. I’ve sat quietly through months of Trump, and the resulting immune response has left me brimming with rancorous puss (what? the boil isn’t the metaphor you would have chosen to carry forward?) to drain onto the page.
So, I guess I’m back early. I know a few of you won’t be rejoicing, but tough. Read at your own peril.