Good, Bad and Ugly

If I’m ever to fulfill my dream of making a musical about New York City adventures, I’m going to need a lot of amazing character actors. This is not an assumption, because I know what happens when one assumes. Neither of us likes being an ass…forgive my speaking for you, but I think that’s a reasonable call on my part. It is cold, hard fact.

Thought: why are facts always cold and hard? I should like this fact to remain entirely factual but be lukewarm and have the consistency of gelatin.

Speaking of gelatin, when the man carrying a Jell-o mold in the shape of a gun was arrested, what was the charge brought against him? … Carrying a congealed weapon!

Don’t worry, I’ll pause for laughter.

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Anyway, the now room temperature and delightfully jiggly fact remains that New York City is so cram packed full of interesting people that to fill a show with accurate depictions would require a shit ton (that’s a lot if you didn’t know) of remarkable character actors.

Let us take a moment to examine my life…as an example:

Just the other night on the train home from work there was a man in a white do-rag (did I spell that correctly?) listening to his Ipod and singing the smallest, most incomprehensible bits of songs...quite loudly and intermittently. This man either thought he was blessing us with the sound of his voice or had a remarkably low level of give-a-shit. While being occasionally serenaded by Do-Rag, a woman sat down directly across from me and proceeded with her rather violent upheaval of what I assume was strawberry daiquiri. The brief moments between her diaphramical spasms were, of course, filled by her husband's comforting words and Do-Rag’s lovely broken melodies. Despite the soulful sound or two from Do-Rag and her husband’s encouragement, Daiquiri was determined not to leave the train. She said so. She tried. Once I tired of the ever pleasant sounds of emptying stomach, I moved a bit down the train (to avoid the now growing puddle of human upchuck, you see?) and found myself mesmerized by (what I assume to have been) a homeless man. In a half sleeping stupor, he seemed to be hanging onto the seats for dear life while reaching with everything he had for his Big Gulp. It had somehow made its way into the middle of the car. I was absolutely entranced! He did eventually get the Big Gulp back. Do-rag sang him a congratulatory "oooooooo yeaahh do-wahh." Daiquiri seemed too absorbed in her misery to notice. I, for one, thought it was very impressive.

Not a single one of these people qualify as someone I would want to talk to, but they provided a brilliant cast of characters that made my train ride so very...interesting.

Interesting is one of the best words for the denizens of New York City. I find myself thinking of that children’s book Rainbow Fish. He had all the shimmery scales. By the end of the child’s book of communist theory, the special fish had given every other fish one of his scales. Now everyone was wearing their one piece of bling and was happy, the end.

New York is like that…except when I moved here as Rainbow Fish, I joined an entire fucking school of rainbow ass fish! I’ve not encountered a single dull resident since migrating to this city. I find myself in a city of crazies and loons, fools and imaginers, angry folk and brooding statues, boisterous crowds and every kind of artist imaginable. The good, the bad and the ugly can all be found right here in one place.

It would truly be a daunting task to take New York City on in any kind of stage portrayal. But I think someone should try. It’ll be quite a performance to see, I’ll tell you that much. So many shimmery people filling one stage! Until then, I’ll just keep enjoying the dress rehearsal that is my life.

Happy Monday Fun Day, everyone.