"It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone."

-A. Bartlett Giamatti

"health central news

healing path"

Feminine hand on lime green lined post-it paper. Between pp. 88 and 89.

1. The fieldstone fence.
2. The walkway behind the house where I dug up earthworms and was actually like the wooded backgrounds that they used for GI Joe commercials.
3. The weeping willow.
4. The dead end barricade at the end of the street. That was only the beginning.
5. The old lady at Wendy's who spoke the order into the microphone.
6. Climbing ( Read more... )

Let's call him "Corey." His last name is the same as a famous one, and not the Corey who drove off with Heather Graham in "License to Drive." I told CoRey something tonight, and it made me a liar.

I hate being made into a liar. I also didn't have any good answers to his good questions. I hate that, too. The freakish woman with extremely small hands ( Read more... )

So the starting left fielder cuts himself on a steak knife last night... Stop me if you've heard this... The center fielder swings at a pitch, only to have it bounce off his knee. Meantime, he's the first guy up in the bottom of the 14th or whatever. Up comes the backup catcher who knocks one for a base hit. The hurt center fielder limps over to ( Read more... )

I'm not going to convince anyone of anything. Not that we need universal health care, not that the designated hitter is a neccesary evil, not that 500 days of summer was a good movie.
It's too much work to convince anyone of anything. No one's listening. I'm not being self pitying; I'm merely stating the truth. It's not worth the effort.
I have ( Read more... )

I've posted before about my tendency toward right-wing talk radio as an extension of my penchant for baseball broadcasts on the radio. Nine times out of ten, the baseball is on the radio on my way home from work. The one time out of ten that it isn't, however, I get stuck listening to a jackhole by the name of Gunny Bob. Apparently, he's heard in ( Read more... )

There's a video sitting on the TV stand in my mother's bedroom (along with fifty others) wherein my father is filming a glider flight we took when I was six. It was in Hawaii, and i remember clearly sitting on the seat next to him. I'm not in the film; it's just scenery and voices. I hear him and me and the pilot talking. While I was watching it, I ( Read more... )

Kidney stones are not fun. I don't know that I've passed the stones yet.

I also know that I was a weird fucking kid when I was younger. There's video proof.

I've been having trouble with communication. There's nothing I can put my finger on. There's just something...a disconnect. There was the chick in Memphis who wouldn't accept what I was telling her about her job (we work for the same company). There was the dude in Chicago who wouldn't accept that he was doing it wrong. There was the guy at Home ( Read more... )