Artists are passionate. Sometimes people make me so mad I can't write; other times they make me so mad that the only thing I can write is this stuff. Rather than scream into the wind, or keep things bottled inside, I have chosen to vent where others might notice.

These pieces are angry, unapologetically so. They may therefore be unpleasant to read. On the other hand, there may be something interesting in here, too.
 

Nasty Letters
- My blood is Eastern European, my birth nation is Canada. This is where I betray my heritages of fatalism and politeness.

(More venom to come, I'm afraid. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.)