The Parade of the Grotesque

There is a guy on the bus whose neck is always bleeding. Most days, he just smears his blood around and scratches at it. Today, his neck was clean, but he started swatting at the empty seat next to him and cursing. I can only assume that he was Jewish. I am starting to hallucinate from matzah too, and not in a good way. Also, certain organs of mine have been slowed to a halt by this ceaseless and unforgiving diet. Namely, the intestines and lower components of the digestive system. Lesson #2 is that if you want to save money on toilet paper, eat matzah.

Dear God...the fellow across from me is very industriously picking his nose. And looking at his finger to see if he got anything good. Oh dear...

That reminds me. One day, in November of 2003, I was riding a Metra commuter train home from Chicago and I fell asleep. When I awakened, I noticed that a young man of approximately 30 years was in the seat diagonal from mine. He was wearing a suit and had sandy blonde hair. In fact, he would have looked quite the upstanding young yuppie if his finger hadn't been jammed way the fuck up his nose. Not only was he hunting sinus treasures, but he was consuming them with all the appearance of a gourmand sampling a fine hors 'd' oeuvre. He would dig around for awhile, twisting his crooked finger along the full outer nostril and then pull it out. Then this booger dilettante would proceed to bite the nasal canapé between his front teeth before pulling it into his mouth. What a fucking show. Well played, booger boy. well played.

Which reminds me of The Whistler--a recollection that will have to wait until after my daily classes. Or, more realistically, never.