Promises were made....


This year I will turn 35 years old. I wish I could say I've learned something meaningful over the past 3.5 decades, but I haven't really. Or maybe I've learned things, but I don't really integrate what I've learned into my behaviors or thinking in any real substantial way.

I bring this up because I'm 34 years old, and I still fucking hate going to Walmart. I hate shopping in general. When I do it alone, I'm a man on a mission. I know what I want, I know the general vicinity where what I want is, and I'm out. Of course, this aversion is neither unique nor interesting nor warranted. One of the things I can say I've learned over the years is that Walmart is a great place for spiritual practice. Not because it requires patience or compassion or understanding to get through a trip in one psycho-emotional piece. But because I don't trust any "guru" or "spiritual" teacher who doesn't at least, on an intellectual level, understand the miracle of the $5 DVD bin. All Walmarts are overlit with toxic artificial light. All of them are overrun with some of the most miserable, misanthropic dipshits walking the earth. All of them stink and are dirty and don't really sell anything of value (the Stores, not the dipshits). But...BUT... at the end of the day, it took an almost infinite amount of miracles and mistakes, on a Universal scale, to make the $5 DVD bin possible. There are almost certainly--over the entire unconscionably vast geography (is that even the right word) of the known Universe--more majestic mountaintops in existence than Walmarts, and that will almost certainly stand true for all of Time.

So, yeah, go ahead, climb another mountain, but in the big picture, your shitty, neighborhood Walmart is actually the bigger miracle. Sure, nature created a rather sublime, breathtaking, unspeakable view from the top of, say, Mt. Blanca. But nature also created the guy who dropped his guts in the Walmart bathroom without flushing, and that Walmart bathroom is indeed the rarer.

And, yet, even knowing all of this--nay, even having learned all of this--I still fucking hate going to Walmart.... Triply-so when it's cold and icy outside.

Black Ice patches on the road
Deep chill in the air
Neighborhood dogs won't shut up.

Staring out the sliding glass door
Pepper the chihuahua
sees snow on the lawn.
--So, it only makes sense to
take a poop in Issa's room. 

Anyhow, I only bring all that up, because I had to go to Walmart today for their sale on Soy milk. I've been drinking soy milk on an almost daily basis for almost three years now. I put it in my smoothies, my homemade chais, my cereal,  and I still haven't turned into a woman. I'm disappointed. Through the miracle of the Tao and of soy-induced estrogen, I was supposed to transform into a completely different sex. PROMISES WERE MADE. I don't even have boobs. I'm not even a "soy boy." I can still do crazy "manly" things like pushups and pull ups.

Lame.

It's almost as if insecure idiots don't really have any idea what they're talking about. Who'd'a'thunk?

January evening--
For some unexplained reason
the fog is brick red


Brick red fog tonight--
Somewhere through the thick of it
the dogs keep barking

Lazy day off work--
I read too much Ovid and
watch way too much porn. 

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