I See You Smelly Cesspool

I was listening to my favorite Buddhist speaker today,<a href=”http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gil_Fronsdal”>Gil Fronsdal</a>. He spoke about being able see Mara, the evil in our lives. That was enough for an enlightened person to deal with him; he just had to _see_ Mara and Mara would run like the scared bitch that he is.

I want to note that since I am enlightened this doesn’t work for me. This doesn’t help me at all when dealing with the smelly cesspool that is South Philly’s air. In fact when I try “mental noting” of the air quality, it just pisses me off. I don’t think that this is the intended effect of this spiritual practice.

I am sitting on the side of the road and these vehicles are spewing out some toxic waste. I feel that my nose can do an accurate emissions test. This van’s emission level is illegal. When I “note” this, I also can not help but note that this person must be thinking. Well, I am polluting everyone’s air, but you know what? Fuck em! I don’t care if I’m destroying everyone’s lungs. What do I care? After all, my lungs are made of a delicate pink tissue that evolved for millions of years in air free of small burnt hydrocarbons that come in and deposit on the ever so delicate tissues. At times, they will mutate the tissue and create a cancer. Other times the pollution molecules will be content to just kill the cells off and to stain them black reducing their effectiveness in feeding my body with oxygen.

I don’t think that they are thinking that at all. These good motorists are not noting anything save for:

1. Damn! I’m so late, I should not have spent the extra half hour jerking off to internet porn. Now I have to rush to work.

2. That girl I can see vaguely through my smog stained window, I’d like to bone her.

3. I want to buy INSERT CLEVERLY MARKETED PRODUCT HERE. But my boss is such an ass that he underpays me so I can’t blow all my money on cheap, trendy gadgets anymore. Now I have to spend money on food due to rising oil prices due in part to the vehicle I’m driving and polluting with.

Probably they didn’t get that deep. The act like comic book monsters. Must. Kill. Human.

The other thing about these assholes in My Little Cesspool is that I see the same drivers who are in such a god damned hurry, they see red when they spot my bike in front of them. They gun it rushing by me with inches to spare, getting so close, I lose some skin. These same good motorists will slow to a crawl just because there is an inch deep incision in the intersection. They are ever so delicate to not damage the bottom of the metal juggernaut that they drive. Humans, fuck em’. I need to pass them yesterday. But when it comes to their disposable, non-sentient, non-feeling machine, they kiss its butt.

And suck the tailpipe.

My solution is next time to meditate for an hour before getting out of the house so I can leave with a sweet mindless buzz not seeing, smelling, or hearing the annoyances out there. Definitely not tasting. I know this is wrong use of practice and a lame ass abuse, but hey, I don’t want to see the smelly Cesspool anymore.

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