12.12.17 (3:49PM, while the noodles cook, brief sketch of self, Nordic impulses, and an invitation) 

Something weirds changed in my world view. All of that anger that came boiling over, during the weekend, has resulted in a calm, sort of slow boil simmering of self, which I’m finding oddly relaxing, like a session in a hot tub. It has hints of maturity, but I know the true textures are more complex. A shifting foundation of childhood insecurity, is the large part of the problem in mindset. 

It’s a frustration of having to do the job, hack through the weeds, boil the noodles. (Note the liberal use of mix metaphors, no better evidence of fracturing writer self.) I call it maturity because it’s an acceptance, twisted and irresolute of course, that you can’t change other people. And oh are we gonna try… 

 I feel a deep, dare I say, Nordic-like urge for simple things, a shovel in the dirt, an ax thru a block of wood, a grip on a curvaceous ass. That’s all it comes down to. Been taught its not polite or proper to feel that way, the lesson just never got hold. Mostly cause the ones saying it were hypocrites with hard-ones,  waiting for their turn on Freud’s couch. My mood is more a bonefire of Freud’s couch, and maybe a moon-lit hunt for the bastard. Who wants to join me?

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