I live across from a Buddhist Temple and down the street from a funeral parlor and for the past few days, they've both woken me up too early in the morning and pushed me into my day feeling too cranky for words--which is doubly painful, since all my recent travels have turned my brain into a timezone milkshake...Anyway, as of recent, the monks have been leaving their doors wide open and chanting extra loud, playing all sorts of new instruments that aren't the most eloquent. Just a lot of crazy blowing and banging that is impossible to ignore. How it equates to any semblance of divining peace? Who the fuck knows...
...and somewhere in this city, the economy must be picking up, because extra elaborate and extra loud funerals are happening again, as in too many sad Dixieland musicians lined up on the sidewalk, blaring loudly at the crack of dawn; all sounding as if they're playing in their own time and going at it until the large procession of mourners all find their way to chauffeured cars on a one way street that can often clog traffic up for way over a block away... Between the banging, blowing, honking and gonging, I am at the end...I know how bitchy and bitter it sounds to be inconvenienced by someone's death or another's prayers for peace, but OMFG, why?
...Maybe it's the super critical Virgo energy in the air or maybe I just have to face the cold hard fact that I really am just that mean and sour? Who knows, truth is so subjective these days...
