It was today I realized I had crossed the bar (thought not with Tennyson).
No, I had entered a mixed state and was rising to euthymia when a guy cussed at me in a parking lot in Fort Bragg while I was safely weaving my way around him. His window was cracked and so was mine, so passing him closely on my left I heard his epithets: "Fuck you! You're gonna fuck my car! You're gonna damage it! What the fuck do you thing you're doing?"
From my point of view, and I think my wife will testify on my behalf, I was doing a safe thing to get around this silver, long bed Toyota with fiberglass shell.
Trouble was, my window was cracked and I heard every word. I sprang out of my van like a bad watch and grabbed his door handle. Locked. Through his cracked window I yelled that I'd kick his ass "from here to Antarctica" if he didn't apologize to my wife for cussing and furthermore put my elbow through his windhield for starters. Chastised, he apologized to Kathleen (who never heard his epithets, of course, being deaf) and thus saved his window.
I hope talk of a madman gets around. I'm mad enought to defend myself against rude little truck-worshipping scrawny red-headed men with watery blue eyes who don't know what being a neighbor means. No racism intended.
Small town: I may remember him, but he will always remember me.
Now Kathleen fears I'm hypomanic, like I don't deserve a break! I tell her this incident was normal for me. I didn't go nuts. The asshole apologized to her, I was satisfied.
It's true, I never told him she didn't hear it because that would have cost him his window. But if his door had been unlocked in the first place he would have been thrown into the planters. See how kind I am? See my restraint?
Kathleen doubts my report and has gone upstairs now, pointedly avoiding me, telling me how I need to slow down and how she's not nagging me.
Just because I had this sea change doesn't mean the order of my poems will be accelerated; but if anyone would prefer a few hypomanic or manic poems for relief, please post and I will try to accomodate you from the second half of my manuscript, Sine Wave. And just because I had a good day does not mean I'm stable; it will take at least two weeks to prove that. Stick with me.
Thine in renewed euthymia (though Kathleen suspects hypmania),
C. E. Chaffin