I was walking out of the takeout place with my lunch en route to the subway. Sitting on nearby apartment stoop was a bum with an injured foot in a cast. As I passed him by, he asked me for spare change to get something to eat. I told him I didn't have change to give and he audibly "tsk'd" me as if I let him down.

Now, keep in mind that this "bum" was actually a lazy-ass lowlife whose stomach was four times the size of my body, had on a black leather jacket and whose casted foot looked pretty slick and new, nothing tattered or dirty like he was living lower caste life in Calcutta or something. I had to restrain the urge to throw my quart container of spicy noodle soup at his face and tell him to get off his ass.

Just for that moment in time, I lost my Buddha's compassion for all living things. Because I'm busting my balls trying to live and enjoy myself when I can in the small spaces in between, but I let that guy down cuz he couldn't get any free money from me. And that Santa Claus stomach of his tells me he's actually eating better than I am! I guess I wasn't in the mood to start the day off with that vibe...so I'm whining about it five hours later.

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Latrevo ta megala stithi!

"When men worship me because of my breasts, I feel that I am an embodiment of the goddess that has become...a part of our collective human soul." — Chloe Vevrier

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