To hell with that noise

FFFFUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKK! Shit, man, that's all I have to fuckin' say at this point, man. This motherfucking cocksucking sonovabitch fuckin' job that I have. Man, I just can't fuckin' believe how incompetent certain people are working in public education. Fuck them, man!

Feel any better, farmboy?

Yeah, actually.

I knew you would. You hold a lot of stuff in. Some people depend on you too much...

Too fuckin' much...

...And it's good for you to let it out in a safe place. Which you have here with me.

You sound like a therapist, a psychologist or something. Some kind of shrink.

But I'm not. At times I wish I was, though.

Do you want to talk about it, your job, your frustrations?

No. Because I want my off-time to be about my music, I want to live it for my life.

And it helps, you know?

I'm not sure I know what "it" is.

Oh, you know, music, songs.

I came home from work today just completely falling apart with anger and I took a clonazepam -- that's an anti-anxiety pill -- and smoked weed, of course.

Of course.

That's how I get by. Too bad I don't hardly drink. Seriously.

I was still obsessing, though, even into the first song I played at my daily playing thing. But then, it started to change and my playing was a little more aggressive and...fuck! I was fuckin' determined to play guitar. I would not let this shit take away the attention from my music. Fuck that shit. To hell with that noise.

Good for you, farmboy!

Thanks. I'm gonna go eat something and just hang out.

Man, I can't thank you enough for supporting me, for listening to me, even when I get in a rage. Really, man, thanks.

You're welcome, farmboy.

I'm sorry for cursing so much.

Don't worry about it. It's not anything I haven't heard before.

I'll be working on that.