Mindless drivel!

 
Is anyone in baseball more miscast at leadoff than the Phillies' Jimmy Rollins? At least Alfonso Soriano will hit for enough average to keep his OBP respectable. Jimmy Rollins has become quite the out machine these days and is on the cusp of becoming useless. After turning out a very nice age 22 season, his age 23 season looked a lot more like Paul Zuvella than Derek Jeter. He needs to seriously rebound.

Despite Bobby Abreu's continued insistence that he's a run producer, he really would look fantastic heading up that lineup. Abreu, Polanco, Thome, Burrell. That's a sweet 1-2-3-4. Polanco is a perfect NL-style #2 hitter, able to move guys around. Of course, Abreu batting fifth he'll look like he's an RBI machine batting behind Thome and Burrell. Hell, Jimmy Rollins would look like an RBI machine batting behind those two. Vinny Castilla would look an RBI machine batting behind those two.

My fantasy baseball league is a keeper this year, and I have to select 5 players to keep. I've eliminated a bunch of drek from my roster. leaving the following candidates:
Erubiel (FREEDOM!) Durazo 1B/DH OAK
Jeff (I'm not allowed to wash the truck) Kent 2B HOU
Jose (Outs are outs) Hernandez SS COL
Troy (I could eat David Eckstein, literally) Glaus 3B ANA
Josh (why isn't he catcher eligible anymore? Damn.) Phelps DH TOR
Lance (a-lot) Berkman CF HOU
Bobby (No one loves me) Abreu RF PHI
Tim (the uninteresting one of the Three Aces) Hudson SP OAK
Derek (I got your DIPS right here!) Lowe SP BOS
Brian (Shhhh, don't tell anyone) Lawrence SP SD
Byung-Hyun (there's no crying on the mound of Yankee Stadium) Kim, RP-turned-SP, ARI
Octavio (yeah, I could save 40 games a year, too) Dotel, RP HOU
Jeff (sixth starter) Weaver SP NYY
Ted (I'm gonna make the Yankees pay!) Lilly SP OAK
Austin (he's so dreamy) Kearns RF CIN

So I have some difficult decisions to make.
Me, I write at 9:36 AM

 
Update on me:

Waiting for baseball season. Listening to Modest Mouse, trying so hard to become a pretenious indie rocker, if only to pick up indie rock chicks. I can't play an angular guitar but I certainly can cry. Applying to jobs sporadically, including the occasional job in Madison WI. Dreading Friday and all that comes with it, but knowing I'll be okay in the end.

I'm working on staying positive. I've been going through a rough patch the past few days, but my friends have been incredibly helpful in keeping me afloat. Someday I'll make it up to all of them, but maybe all I need to is smile.

I broke my computer desk out of frustration last night...I need some help controlling my anger. And i'm working on it.

I'm just sick of being made to feel ashamed for who I am or what I like or who I like or the things I find cool. Yeah, it would be easier for me if I weren't such a geek, but I'm comfortable with that. I like being a geek, because geeks like some cool stuff. Now...Star Trek, on the other hand....

Yeah. I'm doing OK. So all of you who worry, I'm getting my act together. And maybe I'll actually mean it this time. :)
Me, I write at 9:17 PM

 
Pavement vs. Syphilis in the Nineteenth Century

pavement wrote a song
about r.e.m.
and it’s cool to drop
fall to the ground like
the names
say wowee zowee
but I’ve never heard
any of their stuff
so I’m just dropping
and the droppers will
become the dropped
just like some
obscure kid
in some
obscure writing class
will point
to this obsucre author
even more so
if I write about something
controversial
like Abe Lincoln’s bout
with syphilis
which must have been
hard
when fighting the hordes
of confederate robots
aiming their laser guns
on Abe’s magical hat
but he never melted
and democracy was safe
but I never was good at history

Me, I write at 9:09 PM

 
every train says goodnight.

We spill out of eight floor buildings. Like a river so determined, it beats through traffic and stoplights. But it dams at the end of the concrete. The concrete never ends really, just drops off here. We stand on the seats to get a better view around the bend. End around to front of the line. This line makes all stops, and that's fine by us. As they turn, all the trains blink their headlights, the suitcases and ties head home. The trains groan a little, but it's nothing more than the workmanlike complaints of the hard working machine. They yawn and we go home. we file into seats like paperwork, so neatly filed. We're all so nearly fired, but we made it through another day. When you look out the windows, they disappear. But when you wish for them to return, memories blow back in. Like someone had left the windows open. The thousand mouths open in synch, and we drive away in a blink. And as we speed through resdiental streets, every train says goodnight.
Me, I write at 11:18 PM

 
Well, that didn't last too long. Material concerns have brought my sailing good mood crashing to the ground. I'm worried about being able to get a car, if and when I obtain my driving license...the date is March 10th, this is subject to change. I think the only thing that's bothering me personally at the moment is that I feel uninteresting...well, not me so much, but my life isn't terribly exciting. It seems like everyone else has got something exciting going on...maybe it's just because I'm used to my life, so it bores me. I don't know.

I'm also in a much better mood than I was, say, three hours ago...so that changes my perception a bit, I'd say.


Me, I write at 11:17 PM

 
So tonight was a good night. I had been considering going into NYC to see Adaptation since last weekend, and despite my best efforts to prevent myself from doing so (I told my parents I had no plans, effectively leaving me as de facto babysitter, then I actually called someone to see if they were doing something), I finally just got on the goddamn train and went.

I had such a good time. I never do anything alone. Ever. This is the first time I had ever gone to a movie by myself. I felt so free to just act however I wanted to act, so I just did the wacky thing a bit, running around, jumping, making noises. So much fun.

Got to the theater about 40 minutes before showtime. So I hung out in the lobby playing arcade games. A group of college-age people came in--I'd guess NYU, considering the relative proximity and the airs which they carried themselves with--and starting monopolizing the Tekken 4 machine. I played my Cruisin' Something game (and actually won a bleedin' race) and just eavesdropped. Eventually, I was just hanging out, being creepy, watching them play. The males were all done playing, and the lone female was still playing. I asked if she wouldn't mind if I played. She beat me.

Quite well.

I didn't really get too good a look at her, as I have issues about being caught looking at a girl too intently. But what I do know is any girl who can beat me at video games is instantly that much more attractive to me.

The movie was quite strange, complicated, and quite good. Many people had said it was just that, and they were right. It's definitely not an ordinary movie, and I'd suggest anyone who's interested in seeing something new check it out. It wasn't groundbreaking, but it certainly is different. The audience wasn't sure how to react to a lot of it. I know I wasn't. And it certainly wasn't what I was expecting. But it certainly was cool.

And well worth the trip. Which was fun in of itself. It's just amazing how much my good mood tempers when I walk in the door of my house. And how it tempers even further when I get to my computer. But I'm still in a good mood, goddamnit, despite my brain trying to tell me I'm miserable. I wish that damn thing would shut up for a few minutes and let me catch my breath.

Tonight's experiment.......mostly a success.
Me, I write at 1:49 AM

 
I've been working on some peotry as you can tell...mostly editing/typing right now.

It's a nice release from a day of work.
Me, I write at 12:16 AM

 
Here You Are
Her hair is blond, chin-length, and curled out ever so slightly. Her widely-spaced eyes are hiding behind thick rimmed glasses. Indie rock chic chick, and I’m a sucker for it. She wears a red dress and it falls to her knees. I’m nearly ready to fall to mine and worship the floor she’s gracing. She stands in my doorway, and it frames her perfect frame perfectly.

She’s here on business. She asks for her CD back dryly. There’s no glint or sparkle anymore. But she’s still gorgeous, beautiful, alluring, amazing to me. I feel my jaw loosen as the late afternoon sun highlights everything that’s right and hides everything that’s wrong. I shuffle through the pile of CDs on my desk, nearly dropping every single one on the floor. If I didn’t keep looking up at her, I might find it faster. She rolls her eyes as I dig deeper into the stack. I finally find her copy of Surfer Rosa, stick my pointer finger in the middle and extend my arm.

If I would have known at that moment that all I would ever exchange with her from that point forward would be awkward glances and uncomfortable silences, I might have said something better than, “Here you are.”

Me, I write at 12:15 AM

 
pop culture icon
I want to be a pop culture icon
not good or talented; per se
but someone who
in 5 years
will have kitsch written all over them
(hey, maybe even now)
and the uncool cool kids
with the striped sweaters
will speak of me in reverant tones

and I don’t want to do it
for the money
the fame
or the women
(though I wouldn’t refuse them were they offered to me)
I want to be on a lunch box
not those cheap plastic Aladdin ones
I want my face die cast into the side
so that I ping a little
when you grab your pb & j
I’m round enough to be on a thermos

so I can take my lunch
(and everyone will know who’s lunch it is!)
to Arnold’s and eat with the Fonz
and play a round of golf
with OJ Simpson
and the “real killer”
buy long distance
from ET or ALF
or that space alien
(what’s his name…Mike Piazza?)
go on a reality show
win a million
lose some shame

I really think I can do it
and Scott Baio will no longer be in charge
it’ll be me
all me


Me, I write at 11:54 PM

 
This blog stuff is boring me. I don't have anything interesting to say.

Anything really important, and I'll let you know.
Me, I write at 6:45 PM