Dear One-Eyed Man:

Being a one-eyed man doesn't have to be definitive of your character. You don't have to be a scummy person on a random subway platform making people uncomfortable. You could be peacably reading the paper, occasionally glancing around, all neighborly. Imagine yourself as that type of one-eyed guy... Amicably nodding at the gawkers, meeting their eyes with your brave-yet-humble one, non-verbally reminding them to avert their brazen stare, and to try to consider you an equal in humanity.

But you didn't do that. No, you couldn't. You had to fall victim to your own creepy appearance. You had to go balls out and accentuate it by accumulating a disturbing length to your greasy hair and skulking about, fixing your beady eye on a very exhausted female coming home from another strange night in comedy, trying to think it all out, what it all means. Hey, remember how you did some weird signals with your lips? What were you signaling? That you were an asshole? That you would like to eat me up and not in the good way? Was the lip activity to clarify that the eye and hair-do were not unrelated freak accidents but rather all interconnected elements of your odious persona, freakishly working in tandem to destroy my moment of reverie?

Fair enough, I moved. I looked at you like the fucking freak that you are and I relocated my self to a bench--safely secured between two strapping, Nordic looking fellows, one on either side. I've recently noticed I don't tend to be friends with many blond-haired people, but sitting between a couple of them sure felt safe. Then I slipped back into deep thought. It was my time on the bench, in the night, to chew on some thoughts and ponder and think and grow.

So, at some point my inner animal must have picked up on some whiff of something in the air. Some presence, some void. YOU ARE SITTING TO MY RIGHT. STARING AT ME. When did the Nordic guy get up and go? Where is the Nordic guy.

Congratulations, you officially sealed the deal on being a complete disturbance. WHOO. WHOO. Hats off, Right Eye. You had the Right Eye-dea! You fucking nailed it. You really had a breakthrough tonight. I had one in comedy and you had one in freakery. We both did it.

And you made me feel like I must be a very pretty girl. With that one eye you hunted out my beauty, you saw it with more intensity, fervor, and clarity than many men with full sets of eyes. You couldn't stand to have me out of your sight which is very passionate.

So we both won tonight, bigtime. I want you to know that when I said: "Jesus! Get the fuck away from me" and walked out of the subway station and to a cab, it was more my way of saying: "Wow, we're both onto something...we're peaking, we've hit a breaking point, we've found a new power, a new impact. We're getting better at what we do every day. Keep going with this, don't give up. You're good at what you do."

But I think you understood that.