The first time my wife and I went down to ask the new business about the noise, the co-owner we spoke to, "Annie," told us point blank: "We're not gonna do that." Ignoring the disrespect for the moment, I told Annie that if they would only turn down the bass frequencies, the volume itself would not have to come down as much. Annie said, "Oh, I'm old; I don't know how to do that." Then, seconds later, they said, "Music is nothing without bass." I glanced at the far wall of their hot dog business and noticed that painted on the wall was an eight-foot-tall mural of a boombox. I felt a headache come on, and I left.

At first, our landlord acted in good faith and asked the hot dog business directly to turn it down. He understood how serious this was, he told me. Over the past eight months, my landlord has personally and directly endured the nuisance when I asked him to stop by and see for himself. He always left agreeing with me that it was an issue. And, in the spirit of good faith, he shared the text of their business lease agreement with me.

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The Buddha. Incredible. I was struck by a thought: if self-proclaimed Buddhists could be so inconsiderate, so maladjusted, then what was the point of their faith? To demonstrate such an utter indifference to my suffering, what did they profit from the tenets of Buddhism? I mean look at the size of this thing. It must be over three feet tall. I checked Amazon and found their smallest Buddha, measuring a mere 3x3x5 inches, costs $10. It would have had to be an enormous investment to present yourself as Buddhist to the world. Even if the thing fell off a truck, you wouldn't put a Star of David on your front door if you weren't Jewish, nor would you put Christ on a Cross on your doorstep if you didn't expect your guests to believe you were Christians.

This concept of a fraudulent religious pretext occupied my mind more and more as the days wore on. Days turning in weeks. Weeks into months. Did they meditate? Were they observers of Buddhist holidays? Did they practice the middle way, eschewing ascetism and sensual indulgence?

No, I surmise these hot dog business owners rely so profoundly on their indulgence of loud music that they would persist in spite of their written lease agreement, town code, my pleas, my wife's pleas, my rights as a renter in New York State, and even my landlord's verbal direction to curb the nuisance. No, these owners could not possibly be followers of the Buddha.

My working theory is they think it's just a cool statue. A cool decoration. Perhaps they received it as a gift and considered it too nice to discard. But, again, imagine if this were a three-foot statue of Christ. As a non-Christian, the thought of being a gifted religious display would elicit a, "No, thank you," from me. That's just me.

I continue to revisit their lease agreement. I find it sublime. Every new word to the next read like a personal love letter to me. It was all there, down to the arguable immorality of their counterfeit Buddha statue. But my landlord, a man more a builder than anything, refuses to evict. He's hesitant to lose revenue both from their apartment and storefront. Unfortunately, I couldn't legally compel my landlord to enforce his agreements either. I could potentially sue my landlord for rent abatement (which has precedent in New York State) but I honestly feel bad for the guy. He works for a living and doesn't deserve the hassle, even though he is legally responsible for my quiet enjoyment. Reducing my rent wouldn't solve the noise problem either. The difference between my reduced rent and the combined rent from my annoying hot dog neighbors combined wouldn't be enough for my landlord to justify eviction. I've crunched the numbers. And, for what it's worth, I don't actually want them evicted either. Eviction brings with it an assortment of grief and inconvenience I would not actively wish on anyone. Even my asshole hot dog neighbors.

So here I am, nearly eight months into sheer misery, with nothing to show for it. My mental health would have swan dived off a cliff a long time ago were it not for the ongoing support and understanding I receive from friends and family. On YouTube, tales of people battling their own noisy neighbors are plentiful; comments sections with unreserved adoration and glee to see the bastard neighbors get theirs. An eye for an eye.

Am I above such a thing?

Forgive me the opportunity to elaborate on this feeling. Throughout this ordeal I've learned some things, like setting up a sophisticated live stream and building a website that streams an RTSP feed of my home security camera. A little graphic design here and there. These are things I already knew about. Then there is the abstract: no law is real unless it can be enforced. As the saying goes, the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good people to do nothing.

Another lesson I've learned is I should avoid attributing to malice that which can be attributed to ignorance. Miscommunication often arises when we expect too much from others, and overlook the how ignorance shapes our shared perception of reality. To truly connect, we must attune our frequencies, so to speak. In this light, I've tried to dispel my neighbors' ignorance and convey the cruelty they've inflicted. I don't believe they can continue to feign ignorance after all of this, but I also don't think they fully grasp the extent of their noise. Perhaps you can see where this is leading.

That's right: I've become a Buddhist myself.

Perhaps you didn't see that coming. But it's true. To prove it, I bought myself my own Buddha.

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