I transcribed this as accurately as I could. It’s a soliloquy on the subway delivered by a disturbed but gentle individual. I connect with people like this on some level, but I’ll have to think about it some to determine what that level is. I did not make eye contact with this gentleman, and I sensed that no one else did, either.
Those were long, hard years.
Long, hard years.
Thank you.
Nothing to propagate.
Nothing to discuss.
Long, hard years.
Nothing to propagate or discuss.
It’s the long time amongst other people.
Thanks.
Oh I understand. It’s a pity party.
I don’t say that badly.
Thanks.
There’s so many homeless.
Not bad we thanks.
Not bad we thanks.
You see if someone teaches you a foreign language,
or some other dance moves,
I’ll say it the Salsa, the Merengue.
Well, other things might go with that, too.
I know it was bad for anybody,
and I can dance a little bit.
Not too much.
I understand.
Not sayin’ bad.
I still got my roach killers that won the,
y’know, the shoes I bought from Flag,
rubbers with the pointy toes
in the 1970s.
Thanks. I understand. Thanks.
I’m with it, too.
I might have been with it before others.
Or anything might be said…
I can’t stand just the idea that I was ignited, (knighted?)
just the idea that I’m Orthodox.
(choking sound) Excuse me.
Sorry to say bad in a…
I respect him because that means right opinion.
Thanks, though. It’s nice, see,
it’s hard for people not to ask in that way.
That’s what the word “Orthodox” means.
