The train that takes me home is not working on the weekends until March. So I had to take the N to a shuttle bus and back to Sunnyside but while waiting at Union Square there was a man shouting about god (not entirely odd) and his grandmother carrying a gun to church and problems with the deacons and the preacher and guns and the blessings we have just being alive--it made me think of Son House:
Yes, I'm gonna get me religion, I'm gonna join the Baptist Church.
Yes, I'm gonna get me religion, I'm gonna join the Baptist Church.
You know I wanna be a Baptist preacher, just so I won't have to work.
One deacon jumped up, and he began to grin.
One deacon jumped up, and he began to grin.
You know he said, "One thing, elder. I believe I'll go back to barrelhousin again."
One sister jumped up, and she began to shout.
One sister jumped up, and she began to shout.
"You know I'm glad this corn liquor's goin out."
But I was drunk so there was no singing on my part. While he was shouting, there was another fellow making birdcalls by the payphone. Someone further down the platform was responding to the calls. I had no idea what in hell was going on. So I wound up on the train car with the God shouter--he had a tall can of Magnum and his right eye was dead and set well below his left. He continually gestured with his gun hand and praised loosely our lives. The gun-toting-grandma-church-going-chatter ceased two stops later when he got off the train but further down the car was a man dressed in a Spiderman suit. He must have been a street magician because he did a few little disappearing kercheif tricks and then proceeded to rifle through a rather large suitcase, pulling out balloons and honking horns and flopping a rubber chicken around. He almost missed his stop looking for whatever it was he couldn't find in his trick case. He stepped off the train with a pink star balloon on the end of a stick that popped as soon as he got out the door.
These things happen all of the time, right?
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