April 24, 2001
It's Not Hot Enough For Shorts!
It's 79 degrees in New York City, lunchtime, and I'm sitting on the
steps to the entrance of the only patch of green in the area, eating
a long, stringy, very cheesy, slice of eggplant pizza. Sound nasty?
It tastes nasty too.
First of all, me equals vegan, which equals no milk and no cheese, which equals me sinning right now.
To make matters worse, it's not summer, so that breeze that's blowing right now is cooling off this pizza
really fast. It's not a constant breeze, it's like somebody is standing there trying to blow out fifty five blazing
candles on a birthday cake. So every bite of this pizza gives me a mouth full of cold tomato sauce, way too much cheese, ...and it's stringy cheese
that snaps back like rubber because that damn breeze is making it cold too.. snap! The crust is good though.
When the temperature gets just above seventy degrees, why do some people immediately jump into a pair of Banana Republic shorts, complete, with stinkin toes, hanging off the edge of some sandles they wore out last year?.. If not the sandles, then it's the soft heeled shoes and white socks.
You know the type. Do I have to explicity describe the demographic? Nope. You have a picture in your head so roll with it.
Every year those people are the first to shed the clothing and it's f-in funny. So I'm making a game out of it, sitting on the park steps, eating cheesy pizza, and
counting the number of people with shorts and "Noc" knees.
So far I'm at four, five if you count Fez, a radio host on WNEW, here in the city, who said that he was sporting "short pants" today.
There all insane. Wild And Crazy Guys.. which reminds me of the train ride to work this morning.
No one expected it to happen.
Especially not on a luke warm Monday, boxed up on the iron caterpillar with a bunch of people looking at their watches, hoping... praying, that they can clock in before the sargeant starts docking that paycheck.
The subway is no place for this kind of behavior.
It started off with a slight raise of the brow. Then there was the look to the left, nothing, to the right, wait a minute.. that's the window, how about in front of me? Nothing. Damn, what is that?
Back to the magazine, I was reading. I'm trying to decide if I should use a quote from the article, for the Gumbo Stew section of the website, but my thoughts are interrupted again. By that. That's what I call it.. THAT. That's intensity has amplified tremendously and I'm getting ag.
I know I'm not crazy because now the guy to my left is looking around too and.. what? He's looking at me.
Have you seen The Original Kings of Comedy? Remember the look the little girl gave Bernie Mack when he told her that she
couldn't have any cookies? The up and down look that says "You want to do sumin to me?" That's the look I gave my "neighbor", but it was really just to say, "Don't look at me.. because I don't have nothing to do with this."
And it gets worse. Because the culprit is still incognito. Hidden somewhere in this subway car.
Reading the magazine is out of the question now, the source of THAT must be found.
Taking another look around the immediate area - I can't believe it - me and my neighbor, have silently targeted the criminal.
Right in front of the pole, one body away, is somebody looking directly ahead. That's normal on
the NYC transit system, people pretty much mind their business, but this person has guilt written all over them.
The smell in this subway car is beyond sweat or piss stained drawers, it's straight from the rough, clogged intestine of some
short asshole, looking guilty as fuck.
Finally, someone breaks the silence, "I wish people would open up the door before they do that shit!"
I knew I wasn't alone - well, besides the other guy - there is no way that a stink bomb like that can be detected by just one person.
The smell is ridiculous, and there is no way to open a door because we are in the middle of the car.
Farting on the train is nasty, man. Don't do that.
After my interview with Huny, and the mention of Zen philosophy, I pulled out a Zen book I had on the shelf. Don't ask me why, but I actually
bought it:Zen in the Martial Arts; I think I watched Enter the Dragon the day before.
Anyway, I flipped through the book and came across a lesson that encourages you to open yourself up to new ideas and to do so without dragging in any preconceived thoughts..
or as they say, "emptying your cup."
Here is my intur - pa - ta - shun.
The correct way to study a new subject or to "hear someone out", is to approach it the same way that you
would try a new drink your friend has made with that "tight" blender she just spent thirty dollars on.
"This drink is *gooood*. Here, try it", she says.
Your skeptical because you know that this girl can barely make a decent slice of toast, but you say
"Okay, put a little bit in my cup, but you better not be trying to poison my ass."
She smiles, all happy, because someone is about to share her lil recipe, so she pours it in your glass.
You take a sip and your immediate reaction is, "This is nasty! Blegggh!"
But did you look in your cup? You still had some leftover orange juice in there; which messed up her "Perfect Punch."
Go in the closet and get a fresh, clean glass and try it again. This time you just might like it.
- Chris G aka Bruce Lee
