The most strenuous thing that I've done all weekend was open a stubbornly stuck jar of honey this morning. Oh yes, Monday morning counts as the weekend, I've decided. To keep earning my keep of free books, while the F-word slept off a little hangover I somehow managed to skip I wrote a review of Evolution for Everyone here, but it won't tell you anything I haven't written about it already. And getting through Gould's chapters about baseball and the death of the .400 batting average, which has been surprisingly interesting since I still only have the foggiest notion of what a batting average is. Outside of how to get shit-drunk before the second inning, my knowledge of the game hasn't changed since those golden pubescent years when the girls were always bigger than the boys.
Had dinner with a girl from my undergrad who ended up here with her family, working for one of the international organizations. Sounds too harsh to say we weren't friends back then but we weren't, really. She had lots of energy that looked a bit frenetic and abrasive to me in those years, maybe because I was so wrapped up in getting and keeping high, even in fourth year when I decided to get really good grades in case someday I decided to do more with my life than get high all the time. It was self-protection, in retrospect. Not knocking getting high, but I was so socially nervous back then, so scared of the possibility of rejection from anyone and everyone, that I couldn't deviate my favourite method of making friends and/or getting laid - smoking lots of reefer or putting things up my nose and seeing what would happen. Since she wasn't so into that we weren't close.
Well. I'm still socially nervous. At this point I'm running on the assumption that that's just the way I am and most of the rest of the world is coping with something similar with the same bad grace, if in different ways. What was my point? Don't know. It was a nice dinner, and I like this girl now. Dad called the next morning, whilst the F-word slept and I wrote the review, and I told him where we'd been the night before. Her family includes a two year old kid, which he used as a rather transparent excuse to imply I should make a baby pretty soon. I thought that was sort of funny because I was writing a review about evolution, and my Knight of Columbus dad had given up on the 'git married!' talk to cut to the chase: propagate the awesome genes I gave you, now.
Unfortunately, I have to go to the office instead.
2 commenti:
there is a God in our town called Steve Albini. go ahead, wiki him. He's so fucking punk rock, you would think he would have notheing to do w/ such bourgeious things as Baseball.
One of my favourite stories of him come from blackee, who has done a fair share of recording with him. Blackee relates that in a session a few years back, Steve was nosedown in som giant book. Eventually, Kurious Black got to see the book - the 3000p "Baseball Enclyopedia " . And one of Steves published quotes (parafrased here)was noting that "There was nothing unspectacular about a .400 batting average" when his band Shellac played a baseball themed show during the Lockout of 1994. Loved it. Wait, lame story fo non Albini fans.
Well, I always love a good double negative.
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