Archive for September 18th, 2009

Take yourself out to the ballgame: Baseball words o’ wisdom from a faraway friendoh

September 18, 2009

Master Beatie just phoned the house out of nowhere to drop some awesome baseball revelations of the night on me. He was having an extremely well-planned and, from all appearances, enjoyable evening down at the D’backs game in that there old Phoenix, AZ which began with happy hour specials at Applebees (always smart to inexpensively pre-party before hitting the pricey concessions at a major league stadium — attaboy!) and ended in $6 seats with strategically planned backup beers at the game. The boy is a planner, and you can do naught but learn from his skills. He laid the following hard-won wisdom on my none-too-perky but mood-improving-with-time ears:

  • “Admiration > Envy. Always.”
  • “Doesn’t matter who’s playing; as long as it’s baseball, it’s awesome!”

  • (Mikey Beatie photo credit, Location: Estadio Revolucion Torreon, Coahuila, Mexico)

    Support whatever local ball is around you, whether you are lucky enough to live in a town in the US with a major league stadium, or have some good old peanuts and crackerjack at a strictly AAA or AA team, or find yourself privy to an unexpected pickup game in the corner of a park or the back lot of a restaurant in South America or Japan.

    The crack of the bat, the golden sunset, the ads for local businesses — take yourself out to the ballgame. It is good for the soul.

    Hugs and kisses, Miguelito! Your wife will be there before you know it! I know you miss her and I hope a joshing conversation about beer prices at games in the Bay vs. the Gret Southernlywesternly is passin’ the time.

    (I have now written two journal entries in one day about couples I know named Mike and S/Cindy.)

    Daily Batman: It happens

    September 18, 2009

    Take your protein pills and put your helmet on.

    It’s Friday; do what feels right. Haaappy thouuuggghhhts or all the fairy dust in the world will never get you off the ground, know what I mean?

    Breaking news on the Bookfoolery front

    September 18, 2009

    The film One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest is a great movie.

    The book is an absolute motherfucker. I’m done and I’m buzzing. I cried til I puked. Really special. Read it.

    Per mi amico: Milo Weasel edition

    September 18, 2009

    “My dearest friend, if you don’t mind, I’d like to join you by your side, where we can gaze into the stars. And sit together, now and forever…”

    As requested, a valentine from me to you, posted at your birthday-time (8:31, get it? I’m slick like that)! And hellllloooo to my Cinder-cat, too! I have been thinking of you guys so much lately. Let’s do some damage to some PBR soon.

    Check out my supercool friendohs over on Milo Kustoms and browse their awesome art, wear, and gear. They are pretty special folks!

    Repost: Refuse to be normal

    September 18, 2009

    Have to stop slipping and letting the waves roll me under like a coward. Must remember.

    “Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work and driving through traffic in a car that you are still paying for in order to get to the job you need to pay for the clothes and the car, and the house you leave vacant all day so you can afford to live in it.” –Ellen Goodman

    Yes, Ellen Goodman, that is just exactly what normal is. And I tried to be normal, and I tried to pretend like I liked trying, and I tried to pretend like I wanted to succeed, but in the end I couldn’t stomach it and I quit. I believe more often than not in some kind of a god, and when I do believe in a god, I do not believe this system can possibly be that god’s plan, that we do such stupid, repetitive, horribly mundane things which affect nothing and only prop up the necessity for their own repetition, my mind completely revolts against the possibility that this is what we are born for.

    Honestly, how can such a thing as serving as a cog in the wheel in the blade of the sharpener for the grinder that is meant to squash you flat and dice you up even possibly, remotely, be the intent of any kind of creator, when all this potential crackles in your every joint and synapse with each breath you draw? No way. No way is this the plan. I refuse that reality. I refuse to be branded normal.

    So I quit. I really do. It happens that way sometimes, I think, that the lunacy of this western world thunderstrikes you and you have to stop putting aside that instinct that you are paying in to an empty account, and accept that you know it is all simply funny money upon whose value we agree to agree because discord makes us all uneasy, and just say the hell with the bank of bullshit and walk away from the whole shebang.

    It happens. Join me. Let’s figure out a different way: maybe we will come up with one so much better-suited to ourselves that everyone will agree it should definitely be the new Normal, and we can end this crushing misguided misery. I think that might be a lot closer to that possible god’s potential plan than the way we’ve been doing it. So let’s get on this, okay? Let’s make this be what happens.


    September 18, 2009

    I realized last night before bed that I only had a few chapters left of my annual Tommyknockers re-read so I’d better pony up the next item in the queue, Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, a loaner from new pal Jonohs. Well, Tommyknockers flew past as it is wont to do, and I cracked that there old Cuckoo’s Nest, and long story short, son of a bitch if the sun is not rising.

    Total sass; I was tired, even! Hella meant to catch some sleep. Moonlight, ’til we meet again: I will miss you.