What Moments Divine, What Rapture Supreme

On my way to Sharon's class today, taking the R train something like eighteen stops from where I start in midtown, but not unhappy about the prospect of a long, air conditioned ride. I'm in the last car, and even though it's the middle of the day, it's a relatively empty train. I sit at the far end, pulling my latest Wharton novel (Twilight Sleep) out of my bag, happy enough to be reading and riding for a stop or two, until this guy gets on, and sits across from me, and starts preaching about his God.

Now, I love the numinous and the transcendent and the unnameable as much as anybody. I may not be religious, or speeerichual, but I certainly am reverent when it comes to the universe, filled with awe, wonder, and a sense of something greater-than that lives both within and without me. Even to an atheist like myself, certain things are holy. And one of those things is that you should shut the fuck up about your God on the subway.

Because, like the Gods of all people who find it necessary and expedient to drone and bellow about Him on the subway, this guy's God is a fucking asshole. This guy's God wants you to know that he's watching you, and he's judging you, and he thinks you're doing it all fucking wrong, and you better snap to and listen to God, as personified by his messenger, currently sitting in judgement of all humanity across from me on the R train. This guy's God sees that you're wicked! And immoral! And -- (shocker!) -- this guy's God does not particularly like the homosexuals!

So the guy starts up, with the God told me everyone sucks but me spiel, and the ten other people in the car all pretend not to hear him. The Chinese couple, the yuppies, the young woman reading Toni Morrison; they're all just sitting there, ignoring him as best as possible, even as he's busy noisily predicting doom for their dumb-as-shit souls.

And...it's been a tough week for me. I mean, it's no Darfur over here, everything is all right, and I thank not-God for that, but I've been under my fair share of stress, as I know most people have lately -- world's a tough place, paradox of love and death, etc. So this guy starts, and I just feel like, no. Like, I can't let this go on. And I know, I could ignore him, or move to another car, but I don't. Instead, I start to sing.

I start softly, with "You Do Something to Me," just to myself, so I won't have to hear him. I'm still in pretty good shape from the beach, where I will often sing for two or three hours a day; I just ran through my entire repertoire last month. I realize that I've started too high for this song, so I bring it down half an octave, finish strong. That nobody else could do...that nobody else could doooooo.

He doesn't look at me -- he won't for the entire ride -- but he does get louder. So I get a little louder. Now he's on to the End Times, and I'm on to "Nice Work if You Can Get It." Except the part where the song rhymes "enjoyment" with "girl and boy-ment," I change it to "boy and boy-ment," just to be subversive. If God doesn't love the homosexuals, why did He give them so much songwriting talent?

The Chinese couple and Toni Morrison Girl are trying to ignore both of us. The white couple is looking over. I look back -- loving one who loves you, and then taking that vow -- and get a thumbs up from white guy. Encouraged, I get a little louder, and move on to "When They Begin the Beguine."

People get on and off the train. Nobody says anything; most of them don't even look our way, past a first glance, except two teenagers who poke each other and laugh. A woman boards and sits one seat away from me -- she realizes her mistake too late, when the train starts moving again, and the guy strikes up his band again, and I strike up mine, now to the tune of "Let's Do It (Let's Fall in Love)."

"And the Lord predicted..."

"Cold Cape Cod clams, 'gainst their wish, do it..."

"His word will not be ignored..."

"Ee-lec-tric eels, I might add, do it..."

"Those who fail in God's eyes..."

"Let's do it -- let's FALL IN LOVE!"

But she's obviously a native, stoic; she doesn't move, she just studies her book, and gets off again in three or four stops.

I am just polishing off "It's All Right With Me," with that little Ella Fitzgerald run at the end, it's a-a-a-a-all right, with me-ee, when we reach Pacific Street, and the guy gets up out of his seat, and gets off the train. One last admonition reaches me as he hits the platform --

"He will not be mocked!"

No, but he may be serenaded.

Comments

[LindaS.]

Sitting here laughing out loud!

Janice, you're the best...

As I've recently been dealing with a resurgence of attention from my hyper-Xian past, I found this particularly hilarious. Thank you, Janice, for doing what needs to be done. You are a true American hero!

[Georgia]

Just when I thought I couldn't admire you more...

[satia]

YES! I wish I had been there. I would have surely chimed in . . . mostly because I know all of the lyrics.

And I have been thinking a lot about your move and how stressful such things can be. I hope that you are settling in, at least as much as you can with the awareness that this too is temporary. I wish I could offer you something more permanent but you know how Buddhists say about impermanence. Even death isn't permanent. I mean honestly! You can't get a break!

[Bill Scurry]

That was you singing over my preacheratin'?

[Kirsten]

Where is the sly camera phone when you need it? I'd sooooo make this viral on youtube had I been there to filtch it from the air!

[Jeff Mac]

Good for you. While such confrontation makes my Connecticutian sphincter go tupperware-tight, I certainly applaud YOU doing it.

As a side note, why do religio-hacks think that their god will "not be mocked?" A little insecure, the Lord? Seems to me that He needs to maybe harden the fuck up if he wants to make it in this life.

[Danika]

HAahahAHa!! Thanks Janice...sittin' here at work and that was the laugh I needed!! You are the best!! Good Job, maybe you'll see him again and he will remember you and stop...or you could just think of offensive stuff to sing, something by Marilyn Manson perhaps ;) lol

[Scarlett]

Bravo! I only wish I were clever and quick-thinking enough to come up with something like that!

[Janice]

You guys, seriously, it is not a good idea to encourage my vigilante singing. I'm like the Bernie Goetz of show tunes.

[satia]

Okay. Just spewed coffee all over my monitor.

I wonder how many people are going to have to google Bernie Goetz.

[sunny]

ha! good for you. my favorite is when they tell you that you are damned to hell, and then they ask for money!

[Jennifer Glick]

From De-Lovely 2004

Cole Porter: I'm worried about you.
Linda Porter: You don't need to worry about me or your show. It's all taken care of. I'm in God's hands, the show's in yours. I do wish it were the other way around.

[Jennifer Glick]

From De-Lovely (2004)

Cole Porter: I'm worried about you.

Linda Porter: You don't need to worry about me or your show. It's all taken care of. I'm in God's hands, the show's in yours. I do wish it were the other way around.

[Gennette]

Holy crap, it's like you lived my fantasy! I have ALWAYS wanted to sing old standards out loud to drown out that stuff. (I, sadly, never had the cojones to do it though, I now get to enjoy it vicariously through you)

[Clio Bluestocking]

Brilliant! Brilliantbrilliantbrilliant!

[Christine]

"...the Bernie Goetz of show tunes..."

I'm going to wet my pants. Right here in the office.

I'm so glad you're back and posting. I truly missed these gems!

[luckydave]

That was I with the Xian past. Thought Firefox was remembering my name for me. It used to. By the way, you could take the N or Q train for a much faster ride. Just transfer to the R at the first stop in Brooklyn. I do it all the time. :)

[georgie girl]

how unfathomably delightful. if i didn't have pesto sauce coming out of my nose from reading this, it would be a crime. i simply must torture my neighbors with cole porter cd's this instant.

[butterbuns!]

YES!! YES!! YEEESSSS!!!