Do you think of cripples as angry people? Do you think cripples as all wound up and ready to explode if you try in you nicest way to open the door for them? Are you afraid they’ll start screaming at you, DON’T YOU THINK I CAN OPEN A GOD DAMN DOOR MYSELF?
Well sad to say I am a fucking angry cripple. I’m angry when people tell me I have to get on the bus through the back door even though I’ve done it 4,764 god damned times. I’m angry when I fall on the floor and I press an alarm and the woman who answers the phone doesn’t listen to me and leaves me there for 15 minutes. Or when a messianic cunt acted like she was interested in me in order to convert my crippled soul and not to fuck me.
But the worst is when I get ignored. Like standing in line for the cash machine and someone cuts in front of me like I don’t exist.
Holy shit! I sound like such an angry cripple. You could use the preceding 3 paragraphs as a Wikipedia entry for cripple rage.
I also come by my temper naturally. I got in my genes. My dad, (not a cripple), oy what temper. I remember watching his temples pulse in the car if someone would beep at him. If a chicken would fall out of our over-stuffed freezer, he would start opening and slamming the freezer door 15 times over.
And yet, I don’t think genes or the crippleness are the sole sources of my anger. Like my daddy, my anger comes from FRUSTRATION. I’m frustrated with myself. I’m frustrated that I don’t have a book of poems yet. That in 25 years of trading in the stock market, I’ve lost over $200,000. That I’m a lazy slob and a poor organizer that cant help foreign workers, or improve accessibility of the buses here in Jerusalem. So the frustration over my fuck-ups combines with my frustration about the way people shit all over me and makes me one angry mofo.
It’s funny how I usually never get angry over my physical limits. So what if it takes me 2 minutes to get out a 5 shekel coin to pay the fruit guy. Or that it took me, at 4 words per minute, 3 hours to type this. I can deal with it. But I can NOT deal with the butcher who refuses to sell 80 sh./kg. steak to me and waves me off to get away like I just sneezed in his chop meat. This to me is the most awfulest part of being a cripple. The denial of my peooplehood.
A shrink once told me that maybe I fuck-up so I can be angry at myself, and have control vs. being angry at other people, daddy, where I have absolutely no control.
Anger is not sexy. Looking back, this is probably why I didn’t have a real girl friend till I was 49. It was my un-sexy anger. It wasn’t my palsy. It was my anger added on to my palsy which probably managed to turn-off many a sweet girl.
No one even bothers giving it a name like black rage, Palestinian anger. Giving it a name automatically seems to give it legitimacy. I think cripples and the way they’re treated entitles them to be angry as much as any other minority. Our anger should not be characterized simply as a lack of coping with our disability.
But then again I don’t think anyone is “entitled” to be angry. Anger comes from not getting what we expect, what we want. To my mind no one should expect a god damned thing. By what right do we expect anything? We’re lucky the sun’s in the sky and were not eating potato peel soup in Auschwitz. Everything after that is meat in the cholent.
Besides it don’t take no talent to be angry. Any asshole can be angry and justify it. It’s easy. Controlling it is hard. Look at how many murders, wars ad child abuse there is in the world. We don’t need to be looking at ways to justify anger, we need to be looking at ways to diffuse anger.
Anyway I’m full of shit, I want to put cripple, psycho anger on the map. I think this would go a long way in humanizing us. To this end, I would like to play the lead in a movie about a psycho cripple, who can’t get laid and winds up crushing people to death with his power wheel chair.
I don’t want to die an angry cripple.