VICELAND
84. A week ago, I was buying iced coffee. I buy it from this abandoned gourmet deli, the type with all the different sorts of cheese, but it’s odd, because it, the deli, is sort of in the middle of a black area, and so seems under-shopped. The man who works the deli counter resembles an older, more Italian singer from Blues Traveler. So, the other day, while he was over getting my coffee, he started singing. My first thought was that he had a beautiful voice. I wondered if he sang in jazz clubs one night a week. I got a picture of him at some sort of jazz club, wearing a Mexican wedding shirt, singing. I then started to think, I don’t know, that I should get some salmon. I drifted off, and when I snapped to, I noticed he was still singing. It was just he and I in there, and he was several phrases (as in stanzas) into a song now. There was something self-conscious and oppressive in it, because it continued, on and on, he was really singing it, really giving it his all. I don’t know how long he sang, but it was so long, I felt I was going to vomit. I felt like I was being molested. When you are trying to seduce someone, say this to yourself: I have the subtlety of that man from that deli.