Props to the guy on the train this morning with the Profane Existence badge on his messenger bag and (what I think was) an Icons of Filth patch on the back of his denim jacket. (An anarcho-punk grows in Brooklyn, apparently. Not surprising.) He and his girlfriend (roommate?) were on the train with me yesterday. She has nice shoes.
The girl sitting next to me most of the way was reading Malcolm Gladwell's Blink and listening to Ghostface's Fishscale. She kept skipping around the record, though. Did she not like it? Or does she just like parts of the songs?
And I'm pretty sure the guy in the nice top coat with the great shoes was listening to jazz; he was playing air trumpet.
(more later...)
The girl sitting next to me most of the way was reading Malcolm Gladwell's Blink and listening to Ghostface's Fishscale. She kept skipping around the record, though. Did she not like it? Or does she just like parts of the songs?
And I'm pretty sure the guy in the nice top coat with the great shoes was listening to jazz; he was playing air trumpet.
(more later...)
Labels: spotted on the subway
posted by cindy hotpoint at 10:47:00 AM
6 Comments:
Maybe she was skipping through all of the skits?
Blink is so 2005. She should have been reading The Ghost Map or Freakanomics instead.
Please CALL ME if you see that slim-hipped, sartorially superior young thing. With or without his discount shopping bag.
"And when we hit the Twin Cities, I didn't know that much about it; I knew Mary Tyler Moore, and I knew Profane Existence..."
That lyric makes sense to me now.
If only I lived in a world where pronouncements like "Blink is so 2005" were so 2005.
I like the dudes reading science fiction on the subway. they just don't give a shit. I saw a guy recently reading the scifi pulp monthly 'Analog.'
Last night I saw a guy on the subway in his twenties maybe, possibly here as a guest and new to the US, wearing an AARP hat. I love that.
But the best was the septugenarian Asian dude in geriatric sneakers on his way between Chinatowns on the R wearing a Butthole Surfers shirt.
I have a friend who reads stuff like the Tower Commission Report or the Rise and Fall of the Third Reich on the subway. For chuckles, and for real. He really doesn't give a shit.
See, that's the only way sci-fi is appropriate for adults: in the "I read Murray Leinster and like it, so there!" kind of way.
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