A Humorless Post
Here's what I've seen people do on the subway: various sex acts, threats, maniacal ravings, desperate pleas, eating what appears to be a four course meal, and doing word searches with the intensity that most people devote to nuclear power talks.
Everyone who rides the subway in NYC knows to avoid eye contact at all costs, so when I put my sunglasses on and sobbed silently, I was shocked to look across the subway car and see a man smile at me sympathetically and mouth "are you ok?" At least I think that's what he mouthed, it could have been, "are you gay?" because he wanted to introduce me to his lesbian sister or something.
But it made me feel better. Although not as better as I would have felt if he had been George Clooney. Why, why can't George Clooney ride the subway like a normal person and comfort me when I'm feeling weepy?
But I am ok, so please do not worry about me. Unless "worrying about me" involves gifts. In which case, I recommend full-fledged panic.
I think the reason that I wanted to write this was that I often write about my life in a lighthearted way, because that's what is appealing to me, but I wanted to let people know that it's not all fun and games around here, either. I know one way to convey that is to write something profound about the meaning of life, and the ennui that we all feel at times, but who the hell has the energy to look up "ennui"?
Labels: Marinka is Morose