Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Hiding like thieves in the night from life, illusions of oasis making you look twice.

It has been a whole damn week since I last posted and fro that I apologize. I can't get into details why just know that there has been plenty-o-stress here in The Fog but we have turned the corner and everything is just fine. A-OK. Peachy.

Anyway, to make it up to the one, possibly two, people who come and see this site I will throw about a bunch of stuff in short little bursts. Your welcome.

Today while on the bus I got up and offered my seat to an elderly gentlemen who had gotten on. He reacted as if I had given him one of my kidneys. According to him it doesn't happen all that often and that mad me a bit sad. I was not in the first couple of seats today, this poor old guy had to pass an awful lot of young kids and high school students to get all the way back to me and my seat. There are seats that are clearly marked reserved for seniors or disabled persons, all occupied by kids between the ages of 15 and 18. The idea seemed lost on these kids as one of them gave me a strange "what the hell did he do that for?" look. It would seem that courtesy isn't so common anymore.


I read quite a few reviews that thought Sir Paul Mcartney gave a terrible halftime performance. I disagree. While it did lack nudity and any kind of contemporary relevence, what it did have was a great performer performing his own great songs. Plain and simple.


I have been reading Faithful the book by Stewart Onan and Steven King about the 2004 Boston Red Sox Championship season. Well it isn't about the team per se but rather a diary of two sox fans. The trials and tribulations of a coupla guys watching games from their couches or their box seats or on the radio in their cars. I gotta say I had problems with this book from the start. What do I care how and or why two writers watch red sox games and what their opinion of these players are. What makes Steven King such an baseball expert? I have been a die-hard Red Sox fan since I was eight years old. Why is it that on every page we had different views on players, coaches, teams, curses, and trades? Somehow the only thing we agree on is that we can't seem to turn it off. Try as we both may, niether of us can not care about the sox.

A funny thing happened though as the pages turned and the 162 games of the baseball season ticked away. The book laid itself out the way a real baseball season would. I found myself looking forward to my lunch hour so I could catch up on the games and remember where I was when Nomar hit that home run or when Dave Roberts stole FIRST BASE WHEN EVERYONE KNEW HE WAS GOING TO, HE SCORED! HE SCORED! ITS ALL TIED UP!!! ...sorry (cough, cough) I get a little excited talking about it. So anyway I really started to like this book because I could visualize my reactions to the same events and how much the Sox really do mean to me. This year I plan on starting a diary of the Sox. Every day, just a few notes on the score, the game, and what I did while it was on. I think that I'll see some surprises as to what events get themselves all wrapped up into these events. Will I be watching the sox from a hospital waiting room while a child is born probably not this year but someday. What game was on when I got that call from my agent that the novel got sold? I don't know but if it happens during the evening anytime between april and November you can bet your ass that I'll be watching the game. A new blog is in order to chronicle my year with the sox and I don't know what I should call it so if that special person who is soo good at naming things reads this - please pass along any suggestions.



Someday, When money is no object. Someday, when we have a cabin in the mountains of Vermont I want to spend a season there tapping maple trees and making my own maple syrup. Someday.

Damn I thought I had more than that in me but I'm tired and need to get some sleep. I'm done.

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