Enlightening Nonsense

I had come across this beautiful woman setting up to play her guitar in the subway. I didn’t know how to approach her, or if such a goddess would even talk to a man like me, having only one earlobe and a hump. And so I left. The next day I came back at the same time and she wasn’t there. I came back every day to the same station at the same time, which incidentally cost me my job as the bell ringer at St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

But finally she was there again. This time I heard the siren’s song and was mesmerized—and glad I wasn’t commandeering a boat through rocky waters. I was hiding behind a pillar and stayed to listen to several songs until she looked over and I think saw my hump sticking out from behind the cement column. I grabbed the next subway and got out of there without looking back.

I continued my innocent stalking, not so much to possess her as my own but to allow the beauty of her body and music to give just a little sunshine and warmth to a man who has only ever received dark and cold looks of disgust. By the fifth time I saw and heard her playing down there, I built up the courage to walk up to her open guitar case and drop in a dollar. Being now out of work, this was money I had allotted for eating that day. But getting close enough to her to enter into the aroma of her beauty blocked out the damp and dusk smell of the subway and this was well worth the hunger pains I experienced later that day; I was only able to find a three-quarters eaten jelly donut in a trash can to feed the beast banging on the walls of my stomach.

By the eleventh time I saw her play, as I approached she had just finished a song and paused to tune her guitar. “Hey, I’ve seen you down here before,” she said. I lifted my downcast eyes briefly to look at her and brought them right back down to the dirty floor as I said, “I’ve seen you down here before, too.” She said, “Do you play music as well?” I said, “I used to ring bells.” She said, “Cool. Here, take a copy of my book.” I said, “I don’t have any money to pay for it.” She said, “Don’t worry, your support is enough payment for me.”

I took the book and looked up again and this time made eye contact. And for that moment I was not a man with one earlobe and a hump but a pure soul looking at another soul. I smiled with confidence. She said, “Okay, Freakshow, step aside. You’re scaring potential customers away.”

I left that day and found myself another job ringing bells at a different church. That night I wrote in my diary about the day that reminded me that I am a man and not just an animal, that although my body may be disfigured, the being within has just as much worth as anyone else’s.

I haven’t read the book yet but have looked at the pictures and so I felt it only fair to withhold one star from a perfect five-star rating.

At one point I was recruiting subway musicians that I met down in the underground to play for yoga classes I was teaching. I had such amazing musicians as drummer and hula hoop master Lenny Hoops[http://www.myspace.com/lennyshoops. Also see "Pack Your Bag The Night Before" at http://rebelyogi.com/pack-your-bag-the-night-before] come add his beats and beauty to a couple of classes, as well as the etheric music of the grounded angel, Matthew Nichols [http://matthewnichols.com]. I had given many more musicians my business card and pretty much no one else ever called or emailed. Heidi Kole [http://www.thesubwaydiaries.com] just put me on her mailing list. I thought about opting out of her mailings but they came so infrequently and were a pleasant break from all my Viagra readings that I decided to keep in the loop.

Today I received her mailing for the holidays, trying to push the idea of her book as a stocking stuffer. She had such offers as, “BUY 5 BOOKS AND GET THE 6TH ONE FREE!” an offer that hasn’t excited me so much since Macy’s was offering their customers the opportunity to slaughter the fifty animals required to make one fur coat that they carry.[See Caring Activists Against Fur (CAAF) at http://www.caafgroup.com]

Then I saw an opportunity to get a free book. While the only books I read nowadays are comic books, being raised in a Jewish family seeing “FREE BOOK” was like the classic Jewish dilemma of FREE HAM. The free book would be awarded to the person who wrote the most unusual Amazon.com book review of The Subway Diaries. Being I can’t seem to make any money with my writing and yet I seem to have an obsessive-compulsive disorder to continue doing it while no one supports me in my literary endeavors, I figured this free book contest would give me an opportunity to express my retardation and place on my writing résumé that I was an award-winning writer, even if the award was for being the “Most Unusual.” And thus was birthed the above piece, available for viewing on Amazon.com under her book.

I will share with you one behind the scenes intricacy that would otherwise be buried with me if I were to die tomorrow from radiation poisoning at the airport after a full-body radiation scanning and some TSA pervert who probably moonshines as a priest gate raped me, rubbing my 14″ cock up and down repeatedly claiming to check to see if my “explosive device” could blow up anything when it would be obvious that that molester was the only one who was ready to blow anything and everything that was a penis.

I debated some time over deleting the line: She said, “Okay, Freakshow, step aside. You’re scaring potential customers away.” I like writing stories where people are like, “Wait, did that really happen?” as this makes me feel like I am surrounded by a bunch of idiots and thus the smartest knife in the wood block that holds knives. The “Freakshow” line was clearly something that only a super bitch would actually say and, while there are many bitches out there, there are few if any super bitches that would say something like that to a deformed loser besides maybe Mrs. Broflovsky from “South Park” and being she’s a cartoon character, I doubt that will ever happen in the real world where “reality” television follows New Jersey scum infecting anyone who happens to be in an audible radius of them–and where people actually watch this! I thought this would leave only the most extreme morons to thinking the piece was still real and was almost ready to drop it.

But I was also spoofing all the cheesy stories of the hideous, geeky or otherwise repulsive horror who either cleans up and/or discovers their “inner beauty” and thus wins the heart of the way-out-of-their-league hot girl or guy. Often those shows end with them “realizing” that the best friend who is just as much a doofus as them is their real soulmate, as if ugly people even have souls. The “Freakshow” line takes such the piss out of this unoriginal story and I decided to stick with it.

And now you know a little tidbit that had you never heard your life would be completely unchanged, you won’t lose any sleep over, no one in your family will die because you haven’t forwarded this message on and world peace will not be any closer because you are too far beneath the comic genius of me to actually learn anything of humor from this useless trivia to actually bring any more laughter into a world that is entirely too serious. I mean, seriously, if you can’t laugh at someone dying from AIDS, you really have no sense of humor.