I am a patient boy

OK. If service on the Lex between 42nd and 14th Streets is gonna be halted because of "sick passengers" at Union Square, there better be headless fucking torsos twitching on the tracks.

So last night, I went to a meditation session at the Sufi bookstore in TriBeCa. I know what you're thinking [gross!] but it was hosted by Noah Levine who is conceivably one of the only people I'd ever listen to talking about religion (aside from like Brion Gysin) and besides, N's worked with him and so we thought we'd go check it out. Anyhow, I was unfamiliar with him until last night, but he has an interesting story to tell: punk rock nihilist finds Buddhist enlightenment while incarcerated. Now he teaches meditation to both the general public and to juveniles and incarcerated folks. As morally relativistic as this may sound coming from a hardcore atheist, I think that what he does is far more noble than, say, your average pious third-world-white-man's-burden types who proselytize while they dole out rice porridge. Also, he says "fuck" a lot. I liked him.

I've always thought that meditation, like volunteering to read to the blind, was a noble thing to do. For other people. I'm not even sure I was doing it right last night. This morning, however, as I stood on the train somewhere between 28th and 23rd, the stressful thoughts in my head multiplying in a Fibonacci sequence, I regretted leaving the class early.