I’ve never met a Sunday I liked. I realize that somewhere there are people who go to church, chat with their neighbors and friends, go home and have a fine big lunch with meat, read the papers, watch some sports on TV, snooze a little, dangle a grandchild, and thus are content with their Sabbath.
Somewhere else there are young couples going to malls with their cute kids, buying things they can make, or wear, stopping off at a fast food palace….driving home in the late sun, bedding down the kids, watching TV, having a fight and then making love.
And I guess right here in New York….there are people who happily sleep a little later than usual, read The Times….take a shower (and sometimes forget to give it back!)….dress in appropriate Sunday gear - unisex Juicy Couture knockoffs in amusing colors…have a nutritious fun filled brunch of ethnic variety…go to a late afternoon movie…come out to an early Sunday evening….take home a little Chinese take-out…put the leftovers together in one carton in the fridge….wash their own or each other’s hair….have some wine, watch a DVD, wrinkle tomorrow’s outfit and call it a day……okay….they’re right….it’s a day. So why do I want to commit mass murder when my Sundays roll around?
Let me tell you about this last Sunday. It was pretty nice actually, weather-wise. I made the bed, ate a bagel, read The Times….and stared…“Oh do not stare,” I said to myself….“Go out, take a walk….avail yourself….avail yourself.” All righty…. I walked on my familiar Upper West Side….nodding to no one in particular….and thought maybe it would be pleasant to hit a movie…………sold out…never mind…I can buy a DVD….hire a security guard….and watch it in my own bedroom.
No good – I’ve seen them all.
Basking in the glow of frustration I decided to take the crosstown bus home and start again….so there I was on Seventy Ninth and Broadway….bright sunlight…people to and froing….when I saw a man squatting up against the bank on the corner….no, actually first, I saw, what I thought, was a man pulling his running pants down over his legs. Then I saw that he was squatting bare assed, but covered from his knees down. Then I saw him pull up his pants. You see I didn’t just keep looking at him. I was too embarrassed and shocked, but I sneaked glances along with everyone else waiting at the bus stop. I wanted to see…no don’t look….my head swiveled one hundred and eighty degrees like Regan in The Exorcist. He gathered up his paper bag….muttering all the time….and when I looked next….I saw a mound of steaming hot bright yellowish colored excrement..……………That man doesn’t like Sundays either….but at least he knows what to do about them.