I spent 90 minutes cussing traffic and engaging in fender-fisticuffs as I scrambled off the I-10 yesterday. Later I would learn the police fatally shot a man -- well, one can only assume the shot was fatal; the bullet nudged him off the SR-51 overpass and 30 feet below onto the I-10 -- and closed the highway for 7 hours. Seven hours? Really? Hey, Phoenix PD, I count 50,000 motorists trying to pass. What say we pretend your handiwork is a new speed bump? You can shovel him off the pavement after rush hour. I'll tell you. You have to stand back in awe of the Phoenix traffic jam. It doesn't just slow you down. It strands you. You can spend 2 hours exiting a freeway, at which point you have to plot your way along with thousands of displaced drivers all consulting their GPS's instead of watching the road. You know the brain module that activates at times like this and says, "This is part of the daily commute. Everybody has to deal with it, not just you. Stay calm and deal with it."? Well, I was born without that module. I lack the gene, or my mom dropped me down the stairs, or I ate some mercury or something. I don't have the faculty to deal with aggravations like this. I'm not kidding. The I-10 rendered me temporarily insane, deranged, spewing verbal filth and spittle while purple-faced, until horse and apoplectic. With relief and pleasant surprise I write, exalting in the fact that I'm not in prison just now. For a while yesterday, the big house was a possibility.
My computer monitor has been on the fritz. It finally gave its farewell performance last night. In fact, I discovered it finally died while sitting down to write this blog entry. Off to Target to burn 200 bucks, only to recover my life before the monitor failed. That's the worst feeling -- spending money to stand still. When I part with money, I want to elevate my circumstances, feel a fresh breeze, own a new toy. Nothing's worse than spending money on replacing something you already had -- no improvement. At least upgrade! But my last monitor was 400-dollar humdinger. I can't afford to upgrade. In fact, this one is smaller. It features LED technology though, for what that's worth. By the way, Target was out of stock. That led me to WalMart -- which I believe is one of Dante's early levels of hell. I drove to Target bemoaning the money I would spend. By the time I reached WalMart, I'd have paid somebody 50 bucks just to go in and by the monitor for me. Sometimes I suspect the lure of money is not in the luxury items, but in the option to avoid hassles. Pay somebody else to deal with it!
Wading my way through the WalMart, I hatched a sinister thought: When the hell did the population become so goddamn fat? I don't mean overweight. I don't begrudge our aging population a few extra pounds. What I mean is, so fat that it imposes on the rest of us. So fat that one can neither ambulate at a reasonable pace nor allow others to safely pass. That's when I take obesity personally -- when your girth becomes my problem. I spent 2 hours in a traffic jam yesterday. You're giving me flashbacks, fatty! Man, I lack the patience I had in my youth. Nowadays, faulty electronics, traffic jams and the obese ignite my temper. My anger perverts my thoughts so that I fantasize sinister musings. I hope the guy who caused the traffic jam didn't die, but writhed in pain a bit, for example.
Blogging like this is therapeutic. Usually I have an essay in mind or a few jokes. But today I'm writing a digital diary. It's cool. Those of you who have made it this far, thank you for being my soundboards, my friends, my confidants. What more to write?
I've been spending my free time reading my Kindle. I love reading. I do it while I eat out and then read some more when I return home. Now that the weather is agreeable, I'm reading on my porch. I love filling my brain with stuff and taking mental trips to wherever (just like the Kindle commercials suggest). But what I like most is the quietude. No commercials, no pop-ups, no hysterics or gimmicks or come-ons. Nobody is trying to sell me anything. The whole world shuts up and then an author tells me a story. I love it. Anymore I need it. What irony that the latest technological gadget -- the Kindle -- succeeds by resurrecting that hitherto extinct species that technology itself killed off, the book reader, Textus Aficionadus. People are relying on technology to deliver them from a technological age.
I'll end here. Hope you're all well for a spell.