See? I'm not anti-therapist. I've never even gone to one, but you will note that I didn't insist that they all wear tight polyester trousers with a Golden Virginia tin in one back pocket and a mojo (bag of crystals) and notebook in the other. I didn't even demand that they all have 1970s-reject woolly-mammoth style shoulder-length hair, dodgy teeth and a penchant for multi-coloured stripy yak-herders' hats.
I've been using scream 'therapy' since my early teens, by which I mean I found a railway bridge that nobody else ever crossed, where, as the 5 o'clock through train stormed along underneath, I could scream
at the top of my voice and to my heart's content then skip back down the steps looking like the assistant Sunday School Teacher that I truly was.
That's why the idea of meek, well meaning, encouraging souls having anything to do with the sheer JOY of empowered fury seems so, well, ridiculous.
I don't like confrontation - mostly, I admit, because I scare myself.
I hate hate hate allowing adrenaline to turn me to a whimpering jelly. Puke.
My only recourse, then, is to storm, decry, brandish, exert, ROAR.
That's why I adore Pink.
Tonight I need to express myself, because tomorrow morning I must act as if nothing has happened and nothing phases me. I must act it so well that I achieve twice as much as normal and make it true as quickly as possible.
This is all part of my 'coping' mechanism ('coping'! How, how mediocre!) - this is all part of my opposition obliteration mechanism, because by tomorrow I'm fucked if I'll allow what ails me to still be getting in my way. I need for it, this inanimate, incorporeal beast of a situation, to 'understand' that I fucking win, in a way that only insolent, shitty little situations can. Or can't. Who gives a.
So. Pink. Wheeeee! This is how I will be exorcising the pumping fury that has no other out - by stomping up and down to this tune and these words FULL VOLUME - even if it all has to go on in my head...........
Hey, hey, man! What's your problem?
I see you tryin' to hurt me bad
Don't know what you're up against
Maybe you should reconsider
Come up with another plan
Cuz you know I'm not that kinda girl
That'll lay there and let you come first
You can push me out the window
I'll just get back up
You can run over me with your 18 wheeler truck
And I won't give a fuck
You can hang me like a slave
I'll go underground
You can run over me with your 18 wheeler but
You can't keep me down, down, down, down
Can't keep me down, down
Can't keep me down, down, down
Can't keep me down, down
Hey, hey, girl! Are you ready for today?
You got your shield and sword?
Cuz its time to play the games
You are beautiful
Even though your not for sure
Don't let him pull you by the scar
You're gonna get your feelings hurt
You can push me out the window
I'll just get back up
You can run over me with your 18 wheeler truck
And I won't give a fuck
You can hang me like a slave
I'll go underground
You can run over me with your 18 wheeler but
You can't keep me down, down, down, down
You can push me out the window
I'll just get back up
You can run over me with your 18 wheeler truck
And I won't give a fuck
You can hang me like a slave
I'll go underground
You can run over me with your 18 wheeler but
You can't keep me down, down, down, down
Everywhere that I go
There's someone waitin' to chain me
Everything that I say
There's someone tryin' to short-change me
I am only this way
Because of what you have made me
And I'm not gonna break!
You can push me out the window
I'll just get back up
You can run over me with your 18 wheeler truck
And I won't give a fuck
You can hang me like a slave
I'll go underground
You can run over me with your 18 wheeler but
You can't keep me down, down, down, down
Graaaaaaaaaa!!!!! (hehe)
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