Ahhh…drink in the rain, kids. We’re not getting any baseball today (or at least I’m not expecting us to). But today is officially Opening Day!! So get excited about your 2011 New York Yankees!!
I strongly suggest following http://riveraveblues.com. It is decidedly my favorite Yankee blog. Stay away from ESPN at all costs, especially that terrible Chicken Little zone known as ESPN New York.
Because it’s a fucking long season. There are 162 games in the year and you can’t freak out every time you lose 3 or 4 games in a row. Some losses will be devastating sure. But even the best team in the Bigs this year will lose about 60+ games. So try not to get too far ahead of yourself. Enjoy the ride. And remember, it’s a marathon…not a sprint.
My goal this season is to watch 162 games, either live or on TV. It’s going to be tough considering I work and go to school. But we’re going to do the best we can on this one. I bought the MLB at Bat iPad app and am probably going to get the subscription to MLB.tv if it guarantees I get all my Yankee games on my iPad. I love me some YES HD. And I’m going to try to make it to as many Yankee games as is fiscally possible.
So grab your hats, jerseys, and most importantly, your Yankee pride. The quest for number 28 (probably) begins today. Play ball.
I feel truly sorry for the people of Japan and all those in the path of the resulting tsunami that the earthquake has caused. It truly is sad how powerless human beings are when it comes to natural disasters. All of our machinations can do nothing really to stop a tidal wave or a hurricane or flooding. It is a terrible way to have to gain some perspective about our place in the universe, which is not the center. Stay humble.
Do you wait for me?
Do you wait for me because you know I’m going to come?
What would happen if I didn’t?
Would you blame me for disappearing?
Or would you blame yourself for taking me for granted?
Do you ever listen to an album and have it take you back to a very distinct specific place? Like that album was defining of a time period of your life? Like the memories are riddled with that as the soundtrack of it?
Circa Survive’s Blue Sky Noise is one of those albums for me.
And I listen to it and look back on the times that it reminds me of…and it’s fucking funny.
In the midst of the single worst depression I’ve ever suffered through, this album was a second knife. Like feedback, this only made my depression louder and harsher. Probably because it’s an angry, bitter, hurt, upset, depressing album.
But now, it’s funny.
It’s funny that I can see the triumph in songs where before I only saw bleakness. That I can look at where I am now and how I got through it and realize that I was just going through it. And it makes me laugh.
A nervous mixed laugh of some melancholy from the time, the sheer awesomeness of the album itself, and some of the hope I carry around for this future.
I went to see Circa live in November as a gift to myself. And I don’t regret it. It was one of the singularly best moments of live music I ever had the chance to see. The energy was amazing. And it helped me see that it’s not as depressing as I had even thought at the time. It was an expression of it. And I know now that being able to be frank about your depression is a sign that you’re over it. There’s no lingering fear of falling back in it.
So I let out a good cry at the end of “All Your Friends Are Gone” and I dogeared the page that that chapter of my life ended at and I moved on and smiled. Chuckled a little even.
Shit is actually funny like that sometimes.
A fast night can bear unexpected gifts during slow mornings. But waking up next to her can make me forget about clocks. I don’t wanna know time. Just run my hands over her 8am’s. Till noon hits and we eat each other’s hearts until we crawl back in bed for a second helping. And when the sun sets our bodies rise. And fall. To the rhythm of a song only our ears can hear. Eventually the days don’t end. They just blend. We forget which parts of the days are dreams as reality becomes one and the same. And it’s cold outside but our heat doesn’t want blankets. We need space to roam.
Left her at home in the cold London night
She had nothing on (not a stitch)
Nothing on (not a stitch on)
And she stays that way (‘til I get back)
With our regrets and (‘till I get back) another bottle of good time
Her body’s over the covers
And there’s nothing wrong with a single inch
And in the same position
Laying on her back
Waiting for a kiss
A kiss that she gets
Long and slow
Starts at her toes
And then it goes and goes
And goes and goes and goes
We move slow
And when I get to her lips
I still have skin to expose
Her body’s over the covers
And there’s nothing wrong with a single inch
And then we change positions
She’s got me on my back
Losing my common sense
Lay under bright lights
You can’t hear the music
But we’re playing the same tune
Each beat, every note
Played perfectly by you
Lay under bright lights” —
Some of you may know that I recently served an eviction notice from my mother. Why exactly? Probably because I come and go as I please, make my money, eat in silence, and don’t give her a dime or pay her no mind. I make the moves I need to make. She’s no longer involved in the process. That shit kinda threw me for a loop. I figured I had done an effective job of laying low and staying out of her hair. I guess if I wasn’t giving her a cut, she figured she could at least make me spend it on rent.
So as she hit me with that, I made contingency plans, albeit emergency plans that were not soluble long term. And I was ready to make that move. But it turns out that she’s switched her side. Once she found out I was gonna move in with my dad, she retreated instantaneously. Cornerbacks in the NFL don’t backpedal that fast. It’s whatever. I’ll take the reprieve as an opportunity to stack up some money in the short run, move out as quickly as necessary to my pops, and lay the ground work for the planned big move in May/June. But like my dad says, “It’s one thing to call for the devil than to see him.” And once that shit sunk in she seemed to not want that to happen anymore.
While she may have second thoughts about me leaving, I have none. I have outgrown this as I have outgrown many things recently, which is why the whole living with pop dukes situation is not quite but almost the same thing.
This life is about taking command of what’s going on in it. And paying your own god damn bills and living in your own god damn house is a major part of it. Before, I wasn’t ready mentally or financially. Now, financially, I’m going to be taking quite a risk, but mentally I have never been more prepared for the challenges of living on my own. It’s not like I haven’t been fending on my own in this “rented” room for the last 6 months in way worse financial condition than I’m in now.
I’d say thanks for the kick start on the process but it wasn’t going to happen until I was motivated from within and I’m there mostly without any influence of hers. But I can say thanks for all the good shit she did. We may not be friends. And the feelings may not be warm and fuzzy. And I may not respect a lot of her motives or her wishes or actions. But I do respect the foundation she laid. I’m educated. I’m witty. I’m good looking. I’m raw. I’m emotional. Somethings that she can take credit for directly. Some that have been cultivated in spite of her. But nonetheless, I do appreciate the effort she put in. It’s not like she abandoned me.
But my body doesn’t betray my heart. And I know that for what it’s worth, we won’t be close. It’s been 25 years. So I can’t lie and say things or do things that aren’t there. So I say thanks and move on. Nothing more. But definitely nothing less.