A good day all around

I'm thinking of naming it Margot.

The thought crossed my mind the moment the tall, but aging man stepped into the train car. 

"SANTA!" ... If Santa was an old Jewish man who walked with a limp. 

The bearded man in the crisp black suit that covered his round belly leaned heavily on his cane as he attempted to sit, and finally plopped right next to me. After fuddling with his bag, he took out a piece of shiny paper foil and a set of small tweezers and began to fold. I was instantly fascinated. Within 10 minutes, it was clear he was making a tiny origami horse, complete with texture for the mane and tail. 

I'm sure my face glowed like a child's, and I thought I heard him chuckle to himself as he put the finishing touches on the pony. Then, much to my delight, he turned and said, "Here you go," handing me the paper art. I thanked him enthusiastically -- like I remember doing when I finally got "Charlie Brown's Christmas" on DVD ... last year. After the bestowing of silver animals, he made his exit, but not before he made my day.  

Shameless self-promotion

Humility is overrated, anyway. 

Right? 

I've developed a twitch.

My thumb ticks back and forth involuntarily like the needle of a compass that can't decide which millionth of a degree more is due north. I can't decide if this is amusing or annoying. 

Stay tuned. 

Art appreciation

A friend's photos. 

Sarah Boyle, check her out.

Horoscope

Remember: Three can keep a secret if two are dead. That said, you know what you have to do.

- This week's Onion horoscope 

Friday morning

The aging transvestite stands on the steps of the subway screaming at a man entering the turnstiles, waving her head back and forth as she snarls. 

"I don't need you, bitch." 

He mumbles something and keeps going. 

"Do you hear me? I don't need you, (slew of other explicatives)." 

She rushes down the stairs as he's hustling toward the entrance stairs of the train, puts one hand on her hip and the brushes the other through her long weave. 

"He's a homo! You hear me? You're a HO-MO!" 

She's screaming at the top of her lungs. He's practically running to get away from her. 

...You know it's going to be a bad day when your tranny is screaming at you in public before 9 a.m. 

The future beckons

In the afternoon, "all-seeing" New Yorkers call to unsuspecting tourists who roam the avenues wearing that look of "you could probably take me for all I'm worth." The collapsable wooden signs promise absolute clairvoyance concerning about what's to come. As I weaved in and out of groups of middle-aged moms donning walking shoes and ankle socks, I accidently ducked into the path of an olive-skinned woman with bright blue eye shadow and long reddish finger nails.

Oh, crap.

"Your aura is red, dear," she said tsk-tsking.

Normally, I tune out the Midtown bustle, but this is something I had heard before. Two years ago, I interviewed a psychic for a piece I was working on, and she "had a vision" while talking to me.

"You have a red aura."

"I like red." (Sarcasm abound)

She went on to reveal more about my future including the what-I-think-every-young-woman-wants-to-hear: a love story finessed out of thin air.

"You'll bump into the man you're going to marry on a train, but you'll already have met him. He'll be a photographer, at least in hobby, maybe even for a living."

This still makes me laugh, and she was obviously playing off of what she could already assume about my life: I was unmarried, a writer who enjoyed the company of other creative-types, and someone who had just told her that she was interested in working in a major city. Still, today's aura forecast was familiar, so perhaps a bit more credit is due.