I've always hated reckless drivers (especially speeders, drag-racers and other automotive dare-devils) for the same reason I have always hated litterbugs, line-cutters, noisy people, Grateful Dead fans and general ignoramuses. I could care less about most of what they sully, but their actions imply a certain laziness and carelessness that is unthinkable to my own particular form of rectitude and responsibility. It's like the guy who wins Motley Crue tickets on WRAT-FM and can say nothing but "Awesome, dude! Sweet! That's friggin' awesome." Yes, I hate the inarticulate too and I will bet you dollars to donuts that people who drive recklessly are also laughably inarticulate. All of this and similar phenomena are related and it all comes down to just a certain kind of anti-intellectual laziness that seems almost unique to America.
Yesterday a hillbilly in a black truck intentionally sped up to my bumper as I was switching lanes, scaring the hell out of me (I surely thought I was going to be in an accident that was not my fault.) My pure hatred of him and everything he represents seized every atom of my being.
But then I did something I was never able to do before: I let it go. As one's view of the world becomes more spiritual (at least in my sense) one begins to realize that ugliness is just the worst illusion. I like Colin Wilson's analogy of everyday reality simply being a heavy, rusty steel door that we all just have to push very hard to open.
One must understand that someone like him is simply an extra in the movie that is in my life. He was placed there for the simple purpose of temporarily making my life a little bit more interesting and challenging.
He is still waste though and he must still be cleared out, flushed from the tissues of the body of reality before real happiness can be none. Yes, he still deserves to die (if it were up to me he would simply be hanged in the middle of Times Square), but I, unfortunately, cannot kill him.
So I'll have to think of him as an entertaining clown - a bot placed there for cosmic amusement. I refuse to believe that a person of my value could be arbitrarily wiped out by a worthless hillbilly who, probably, cannot even spell the word "cat."
I'm not a solipsist, but I do believe that some of us are star players while the others are merely background.
Am I developing something of a religious faith?
Buy my novel! Here is the link:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Will+Johnson%2C+Aliza&x=4&y=18
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