It’s Hard To Speak My Heart

Hey y’all. I’m working on my Golden Globes post (petulantpanda.wordpress.com: Where we talk about yesterday’s topics tomorrow) but in the meantime, I wanted to tell a little something that happened to me last night.

Living in Brooklyn has opened up a whole new subway experience for me. In Manhattan, there are good odds that tourists will be somewhere on your train. Once you cross under the East River and are transferring from the A to the G, you have left all urban visitors behind, thus the subway performances get more eclectic. On the platform at the G’s Metropolitan Ave stop there is always some super annoying folk singer. This past Saturday night, there was a girl with a literal bowl cut and a guy wearing like, five layered tunics singing some fucking thing while eating McDonald’s ice cream cones. It was so irritating and then I came within three inches of dropping my iPhone on the tracks. It was an eventful Saturday.etsy

But last night was something really special. I was riding the A train home after an awesome improv class and an enlightening chat with my Improv Gemini, just playing Tetris on my phone as I’m wont to do after finishing a book and having too much of a story hangover to start a new one. Then this guy gets on the train. He’s a little dirty and bedraggled and is pulling this enormous duffel bag with wheels. This is not so unusual.

Then he steps to the head of the car and starts saying, “The nutcracker’s for sale! The nutcracker’s for sale! The shop is open. I’ve got pineapple….” etc, all the while never opening the bag. His chant was super rhythmic. It also sounded insane. Was he crazy? Was he selling drugs*? Was he doing beat poetry, a la Alan Ginsberg? How do you solve a problem like Maria? I will never know the answer to these questions because in New York, when someone starts doing something weird on the train while standing close to you, the number one rule is that you never look up. If you can’t hear it with your ears or see it in your periphery, it must remain a mystery.

she's a lamb

*I believe he was not selling drugs because the guy sitting across from me had only his pinky nail grown out a half inch, which people do not usually do just for style, and he did not look up at this guy either.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s