There’s a great song by Mark Mulcahy called “I have patience.” It’s full of rage and wit and stubborn love. This is the chorus:
The things I love don’t bring me joy
What I want, I want to destroy
I have patience, I have patience
How much distress is ok following a nightmare result? How do you straighten out what is of your life, and therefor worthy of pain, and what isn’t? I feel like I’ve made some big mistakes in this department. I’ve invited troublesome foreigners into my life, I’ve invited phantoms. I get upset (very upset) by the mistakes of the millionaire children of another continent. Worst of all, their mistakes are played out at dawn on Saturday morning.
But I have patience, ridiculous patience.