Happy Makes Me a Modern Girl...Angry Makes Me A Modern Girl

So I have some anger problems. It´s true. I think it´s a result of having Irish-Italian blood.
But it´s what makes me a good barback and what propelled me through college even whilst wallowing in despair. It´s why I love punk music, even really bad punk music. (tangent coming) All those bodies writhing around feeding and bouncing off each other´s sweaty anger. It´s release and transformation. I fucking love these photos taken by Edward Clover. They show people flying, overcoming gravity. They show people ripping apart their bodies in attempt to release eveything inside. Punk wraps up all the gutteral and raw, blasts it through huge amps, and creates motion. To me punk is motion. And (for me) motion is freedom (thus my love of things like running, travel, and the bike). It moves people in the crowd to dance, break things, to want to do something. It propells. Sometimes it just propells people into a drug/alcohol induced blitz, but sometimes it does more. It is corporal and cerebral. Anyway, I greedily horde my anger (for when I need propulsion), and I love punk.

Most of my anger is self induced as well as self directed. I get indignant and sometimes enraged when I feel like I am being held back, not achieving things, wasting time, stagnating. Worse still is when I start dwelling on how I have no idea how to get what I want; I only have fledgling ideas that flail hungrily about in my mind. So anyway, the old fury was starting to flair up again. I was getting really fustrated with myself for not taking intiative and engaging in something that would make my trip more than just a escape from DC (albeit a total awesome one). I was not being creative, sponaneous, agressive enough. SO I started thinking of things that would make it more. I came up with the idea of collecting indegenous stories in hopes of publishing a trilingual book. Pipe dream, I know, but something to work for. So, I am working. Probably I am just doing a lot of work for nothing. But fuck it. Why not. It has made me a lot happier. It has been amazing to watch these people get excited when they understand what I am trying to do. They have sung for me, let me stay in their homes, watched me play games with their children, and allowed me to photograph them. So I might not get published, become famous in the literary world, and thus get to have hot art-fag sex on top of elephants while researching my next book in Nepal (although I am still hoping). At least I can know that I tried to push myself further and understand these people more than the average tourist. And for that I give myself two hells-yeahs.
Anyway, another thing that I thought would help to elevate my trip status to "totally kick-ass" would be making street art in all of the major South American cities I visited. But I am shit at drawing and I don´t really have access to photoshop to make cool stencils. What to do?? Well one day my love of the odd brought me into a strange little shop selling notebooks, hairspray, sequins, and plastic figures of things like fat angels, doves, and St. Francis. Doves...I bought a hundred tiny plastic doves meant for things like weddings, baptisms, ...and the streets of Cusco. To me they were perfect...hopeful, peaceful, beautiful. So last night, after hitting up the bars, I came back to my hostal drunk and ready. I set out with doves and super glue in my backpack. I had grand visions of a hundred doves flying along the wall that followed the street up to my hostel. I started glueing........my fingers together. ::Sigh:: The glue was completely liquid and slid off the plastic doves like water off a duck. Also, glue (even super glue) doesn´t work so well for attatching things to dirt walls. The dirt just absorbs it. Go figure. So I ran out of super glue after about 5 minutes and 10 doves. So yeah...I need some practice before I become the next Banksy. But it´s a start...and I still have 90 doves left.....