Saturday, September 30, 2006

They Are, After All, Typically Bald and Usually Effective

Originally uploaded by dangunderman.
Generally speaking, when riding the subway, I catch up on my periodical reading. The Nation is really the only periodical to which I subscribe, and until recently, I rode on the subway just enough to get through the articles in The Nation I wanted to read. The next issue would arrive, and there I go.

Well, since going back to being a daily subway rider for the new job, one issue of The Nation per week is no longer satisfying my needs for reading and riding. So on Thursday, I was reading a book (not the one pictured).

I've been having mixed feelings about this particular piece of fiction, liking it just enough to continue working my way through it. But it's good for the subway, as it can be read in fits and starts without losing much in the experience. During Thursday's commute, I reached a part of the book that was actually quite riveting. I didn't miss my transfer point or anything, but I immediately went back to reading after switching trains and finished the chapter.

When I closed the book and looked up for the first time that morning on the southbound number 1 train, I came face-to-...well, tits... with cleavage.

I was raised in a household by a father who respected women and by a mother who taught me what that meant. I also have an older sister who made sure I turned out to be a sensitive man, even if it meant kicking my ass from time-to-time. So I know that I'm not supposed to stare at women's tits on the subway. It's this knowledge that made me turn my face away.

Right into more cleavage.

I'm married, of course, and if there's one thing that marriage teaches you, it's that a husband's eyes shouldn't wander to another woman's breasts. In fact, depending on one's wife's mood, a husband's eyes shouldn't necessarily wander to his wife's breasts. So with the understanding that there are very few circumstances during which it's appropriate to be staring at breasts, I once again turned my face away.

Right into the most impressive cleavage yet.

Without any other options, I began reading the next chapter in my book.

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At 8:57 PM , Anonymous chad said...

dude, the ending of your story encapsulated the savage despair of reality like a Hemingway novella. Surrounded by beauty, the protagonist chooses banality and hopelessness.

you are so fuckin' whipped.

At 3:18 PM , Anonymous virgil said...

A gentleman should never gaze directly at a woman's breasts; rather, he should treat them as he would the sun, and simply absorb their warm and life-giving presence, like a twinned pair of mighty solaric orbs , within the perimeter of his peripheral vision.


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