Literary Illiterate Disadvantage
So the other day I was on the subway reading Us Weekly and I was sitting across from this cute girl with a pom-pom hat who was reading the book 'Lolita'. I saw that Lolita was written by this guy named Vladimir Nabokov. And I started wondering why the name 'Nabokov' was so familiar to me. I knew the name wasn't familiar because he's a big famous author or whatever -because my bookie knowledge is way shallow. If I had to guess I probably would have guessed the name Vlad Nabokov was a old-school wrestler or something. Nabokov... nabokov... Then it hit me. Nabokov! THAT BOOK BY NABOKOV! From the Police song 'Don't Stand So Close to Me!' ...."Just like that... old man in... that book by ....Nabokov!" (Here's the song clip if it's not ringing the bell. Uch. Sting is such an arrogant prick! Gross.) Anyway, I got all excited because I had this literary revelation due to a friggin Police song and I wanted to talk to the girl.
I looked down at my Us Magazine and felt shame. I wanted to be reading something literary good not literally trash. I mean what could I say to her if I was gonna try and hit on her? 'Hey! You! Girl! I just realized that Nabokov is ummm done sung by Sting in that song... and you're reading that book now ummm, huh!?' I folded my Us Magazine over in shame. The subway car was quiet. I realized there was no way I could talk to her. Besides the literature disadvantage, the few people sitting around us would hear any dopey one liner I could muster- then probably snicker at my dopiness. What could I say anyway? I couldn't think of anything. Plus I was reading Us! Not even.. People. I decided to go back to my reading (secretly appreciating the logic in letting myself off the hook to gather the cajones)
It was a time like this that I realized it would come in real handy to be able to talk the talk in the literary world. To be able to bust out... 'Oh I see you're reading Vladimir... if you like that you'd probably like Wongo Von Wongo (insert a real literary type writer name there instead of Wongo Von Wongo). At least it would make things easier and we'd start off on the same page.... (my page was talking about Mandy Moore.)
Anyway, I buried myself in my Us Magazine happy at least that I answered a vague lyrical "riddle" from back in the day. Nabokov. Lolita. Got it. When I looked up from behind my magazine after the next stop the cute girl was gone... but on her seat I saw she left her glove behind. So being the creepy guy I am I picked it up on the way out of the subway.
So if pom-pom Nabokov girl on the F train is out there....umm... I got your glove.