I have lost my will to rant.
Time was when I could just pop open a txt file and rant away about whatever happened to be getting my goat at that particular moment in time, pouring it straight from my heart and out into the world, black-laquered fingertips dancing over the keys, ratting and raving and setting the world to rights.
I can't seem to do it anymore.
I'm trying to write thins thing about that goddamn Dow Chemicals press release (you know, the one about how their hearts just bleed over Bhopal, they really do, but money is just more important that a few hundred thousand dead people who ain't even Caucasian, let alone shareholders). And reams and reams of stuff have now been written: figures, facts, numbers, details, analysis, legal shit. Everything, in fact, but what I actually sat down to write. I'm all blah blah blah when I wanted to be RGHGHGHGHGHGHHHH!
I'm not saying it's a bad thing to check a couple of facts before you fly off the handle and make a moron out of yourself. It's just that somewhere along the line, the important stuff, the energy, the feeling, has gone astray amidst a welter of detail. Gotta find a space between the lab book and the uninformed drivel of Colour Supplement Land ("I don't know what's going on but I'm convinced I feel very strongly about it! Whatever it is!"). Gotta find a way to unite the brain with the bile.
It must and shall be done.