I have spent last several months…meditating, and I found it a very productive experience. I walked aimlessly on the King street at Toronto downtown, dreaming of some sick rich brothers peeping from a window of one of those high-rises and debating what I might do with a one-million-dollar-cheque, yes, like what had happened in that old movie. Maybe I should settle for one hundred bucks.
That didn’t happen.
But I did try several things that might sound outrageous to other people. The most interesting anecdote was my experiment on a fast track to my stardom after hearing so much about Lady Gaga. I named myself Mister Shark. It was cool, wasn’t it? If I was to put on a stage, in the glare of the cameras and a shower of kisses from hundreds of screaming girls, all I needed to do was not pass out or not trip myself.
I started out the voyage in a subway station, during the most crowded time of the day, fiddling with my ukulele, and, of course, I did not forget to put a big straw hat in front of me serving as…you know what it was.
I spent the whole morning singing and dancing industriously, and surprisingly I found out in dismay that no matter how busy it was inside the subway station, there always was a huge clearing space around me – people would sacrifice their personal space in order to avoid me! Needless to say, there were only countable small coins inside my straw hat. I wondered why it was only the poor who were willing to help the poor.
There was one man who was watching my show while eating a hotdog. During a hiatus of my show, he came up, extended his arm and offered his half finished hotdog. I felt so grateful to this kindness that I accepted it on behalf of my groaning stomach, but I did not like the idea of eating his saliva. So I asked half pleadingly if he could buy me another one. He said he did not have any money on him. Better than nothing. I started to eat the hotdog from the end that was not touched by his saliva.
Then, I thought I should split with him whatever was in my straw hat. I counted out some coins – $1.59, half of what I had earned so far - and gave them to him. He did not take them, instead he told me politely that his hotdog was worth $3.99 and he wanted all my coins! Then I realized that he was the one who was serving at the hotdog cart. In a fury, I stopped chewing, spit out a bite of the hotdog and asked him if I could return it. He said patiently it was not possible. That was how he sold his hotdogs.
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