Another reason to love New York.
There was a man in a fedora who was watching me write in the Subway station.
Between the time it took to get from Union Square to Bedford Avenue I heard a story from a man who was born in Yemen and almost eaten by a lion, while taking a piss, before he moved to Israel, where he served in the army and was almost killed by an Egyptian Soldier when he was thrown off his Motorcycle. He tipped his hat and showed me the scar on his head. He then relayed the tale of being shoved out of a car by the German Mafia for whom he was working as a driver. He asked me to write his autobiography. He got off at Bedford before I could hear about his time in America. He and what he called his 12 lives.
Happy Passover.
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3 comments:
please don't delete my comment.
i'm enjoying your blog is all.
happy passover.
will miss you tonight.
"emancipate yourself from mental slavery" saith the holy rasta man.
I didn't delete it. The Mystery person did. And I missed you guy like crazy. I ate Borscht at the bar with a bunch of nutty charaters.
Post all the time, Franny. I like you around.
love,
Zooey
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