I’m way too high-strung and tightly-wound these days. I’ll give you an example.
This morning when I woke up at my campsite, I get up, and put on my clothes. But the zipper on my blue jeans snags. I spend 5 minutes struggling with the goddamn zipper trying to get it to work. Finally I scream at the top of my lungs in very real anguish and pain: “FUCK!! FUCK!! FUUUUUCKKKK!!!!!”
It was a little thing. Yes. But it was one of a long SERIES of little things that were each driving me nuts with aggravation. Its like water torture. Its not the one little drop that gets you. But the seemingly endless series of drops. Or as Bukowski put it: “It’s not the big things that drive a man to the madhouse. But the shoelace that snaps when there’s not enough time.”
When I read accounts in the newspaper about, say, “road rage,” where somebody completely snaps and goes berserk over a relatively trivial offense. I NEVER think “How could they DO something like that??” I usually think, “I’m surprised this kind of stuff doesn’t happen more often.”