Young, Artist and Angry ?

I went to a friend’s website and he called himself “a young, angry artist”.
As if ‘young’ and ‘angry’ were mutually inclusive.
Oh, he doesn’t know how much anger and venom the older artists harbor! My daily exercise is tempering my limbs, preventing them from kicking, scratching, spitting, slapping, hitting and hissing offensive slurs.
How come everyone else is much more wealthy than me?
Why is that person represented by an agent while I am avoided by agents as if I was sick with Bubonic Plague?
Why am I spending long hours working indoors, depriving myself from vitamin D, while the young and beautiful spend their days on beaches, getting more beautiful every day?
And look at that list of the films accepted in the most prestigious animation festival – bunch of crafty, artsy-fartsy piece of nothing forgettables!
But nothing makes one angry as getting old does.
The fucking wrinkles! They don’t wash off!
And the end of my fertility, according to science articles, is marked by increased sex drive and sagging skin.
That arrangement is plain wrong! Sagging skin drives every potential sex partner far away.
What am I supposed to do with my sex drive?!!!
Ah!….
The young.
They can’t even come close to feeling true anger.