July 2003 Archives

Bill Mueller, Boston's likable third baseman and former Giant, had a historic performance yesterday. He hit grand slams from both sides of the plate, a feat never done before. Altogether, he had three home runs and nine runs batted in. If only I had been in Texas to see that game.

Tuesday meetings have a way of lasting all afternoon. To remain awake attentive, I usually have a light lunch and bring a cup of strong coffee. Before the end of yesterday's lunch, I made a coffee run over to Banana Crepe in J-Town.

Me: I'd like a double hazelnut latte please.
Banana Crepe Guy: A double hazelnut latte? (glancing at the espresso machine behind him)
Me: Yeah.
BCG: Oh, I'm sorry, he isn't here.
Me: Who? (looking confused)
BCG: The guy who makes the espresso. He's out to lunch.
Me: Out to lunch? (looking really confused)
BCG: Yeah, would you like to order something else?

I should have said, "No thanks." Instead, I felt somehow obligated to buy something. Would it have been rude to simply walk out? Anyway, I ended up getting a mocha smoothie with tapioca beads. It wasn't the caffeine pick-me-up I was hoping for, but I managed to survive the meeting.

After my run, I stayed to watch the first marathoners cross the finish line. Of all those that went by, one runner stands out in my memory.

He was in his early thirties and ran with a determined look on his face. His 26.2-mile journey was nearly done. Above the constant applause, a woman suddenly shouted, "Go B! Strong finish!" Then there was a little girl's voice, "Go Daddy!"

It took a second to spot them, but when he did, the man's cold seriousness became a warm smile. The crowd reacted with greater applause and cheering. I looked behind me and caught a glimpse of his wife and daughter running to meet him at the finish line.

It's a scene probably repeated at many marathons or events. One that everybody else sees quite often. But it's a moment that struck me. It's a moment I would love to experience one day.

Instead of running in Santa Cruz, as I had hoped, I spent Sunday morning in San Francisco. I ran the 5K event offered through the San Francisco Chronicle Marathon. The course was a terrific loop along the Embarcadero, between the Ferry Building and Pac Bell Park.

With the water on one side and some beautiful architecture on the other, I was easily distracted from my usual race day jitters. When the stadium came into sight, it was a moment of elation. It felt like game day, especially when a scalper, watching from the median island, asked me, "Hey! How many tickets do you want to buy?"

Half way through the race, a group of us had to unexpectedly stop for the snail-slow Muni Metro. By the time it passed, there was a nice pack of disgruntled runners at King and 3rd. I eventually crossed the finish line with a solid time of 25:12. It was the best I've physically felt during and after a race.

Later, I rewarded myself with a venti mocha malt frappuccino (but only after drinking plenty of water). I left the city on a high and couldn't help but be happy the rest of the day.

We'll be playing and having fun
And it makes me feel so fine
I can't control my brain

At the Gilroy Garlic Festival, there is no shortage of cooking imagination. Anything that can be combined with garlic has been tried and most likely sold and eaten. So if you suggested garlic ice cream, egg rolls or kangaroo (on a stick), you would be very unoriginal.

After spending a good deal of Saturday overdosing on garlic, visiting various vendors and watching little kids scale portable rock climbing walls in near hundred-degree heat, I sat in the shade and listened to the cool sounds of Smurfy Brown. Exhibiting crazy versatility, the four-man band easily covered the likes of the Rolling Stones, No Doubt, Goo Goo Dolls and Prince.

One thing I learned: if you know the back roads and ignore the festival’s directional signs, you can avoid most of the traffic snarl getting to and from the Garlic Capital of the World.

If I drove like I wrote, the roads (and sidewalks) would be a dangerous place. Sure, I would choose the more scenic routes, but I'd be driving in reverse, ignoring stop signs and barely staying within the lines. I’d be easily distracted by the music on the radio and probably not wearing my seatbelt. More than likely, I would be lost most of the time. Like right now, I think I've driven down a dead end simile.

Of course, things could be worse. I could write like I drive. Now that wouldn't be pretty.

I had my heart on running the Wharf to Wharf tomorrow in Santa Cruz, but it seems that won't be happening. Through the magic of the web, my online registration and payment mysteriously disappeared.

I had assumed everything was fine until this week, when double-checking the parking situation, I read that I should have received a registration packet earlier this month. I had assumed the race would be like others, where runners pick up their packets on race day. Bad assumption, very bad.

Panic ensued as I madly scattered my neat pile of mail and found nothing. I won't go into the gory details, but in the end, I had to accept the reality of waiting a year to run the race.

I was seriously bummed last night, but I might have found something more my speed for Sunday morning. We'll see if I can make it work, but let's not assume anything.

And I noticed him drawing on the dry erase board. He had used every possible square inch and color. It was an announcement for a live band performing at the cafe on Friday night.

He was concentrating hard and almost done, just outlining the band's name in yellow with a bold red marker. I couldn't read the entire board from where I sat, so after building up enough courage and trying my best not to startle him, I asked, "What time will the band be playing?"

He turned around and replied, "Around 9:00 PM or so. Just like it says right here." He shifted to one side, pointed at the board and my eyes followed his finger. It must have been my confused expression that caused him to glance at the ink-covered board. With a sudden look of frustration, he exclaimed, "Aww, man! I forgot to write the time!" He then stomped off to find an eraser.

If I had known he had accidentally omitted something, I probably wouldn't have said anything. Now I just feel bad for asking.

Yesterday's oneword (a site I wrote about a while back) was pitch, which made me think of baseball and resulted in the following minute-long effort...

It isn't the way you throw
It's the way you pitch
Take the ball and hold it so
Hidden behind your glove
With your fingers like this
Pull back your arm and
Then hurl it forward
Releasing the ball
Remember
It's all about timing

This is also known as poetry in sixty seconds or fastball poetry.

When I first started working at the company, I was given a bright orange vest and a hard hat. Both items were hand me downs boldly marked with another person's name written using a black sharpie. I wore them quite often when I was pulling up manhole covers or sampling asphalt (drilling, not tasting). And as everybody knows, bright orange vests are very fashionable and offer massive protection against the impact of oncoming vehicles. That is at least what I told myself as I stood in the middle of busy streets.

My current assignment doesn't require much field work, so I've hung up my vest, much like the landscape architects have here on "Vest Row". Those with super eyesight will probably spot the shady flamingo hanging out against the yellow wall.

I'm trying a cafe sua da, which is tasty. It is typically milk and coffee over ice, but this place substitutes the coffee with four shots of espresso.

As I fight off the urge to think discouraging thoughts, I need to remember eight simple rules...

1. Even if my gut feeling tells me they will say No, I shall ask anyway.
2. I shall not take it personally when they tell me No.
3. I shall not allow my gut to gloat or say, "I told you so."
4. I shall not overthink the words used or reasons given.
5. A No is not the end of the world.
6. In this "game", there are only two strikes. A second No means I'm out.
7. I can be disappointed, but not defeated.
8. I shall keep trying. Otherwise, there will never be a Yes.

I shouldn't worry or pay attention to any of it, ignore it all for a while. Let my own words reach my ears first, so that I may not be swayed, so that I may find something worth saving, saying, sharing. Let this creativity freely take shape in the sand. Sculpt, refine, admire, enjoy it before looking around to see what everybody else has created. Only when I have finished, take in all they have done. Appreciate, praise, learn from, enjoy their creations before the next wave washes everything away. This one will soon be a memory and my next may be better.

There was a guy in high school who only wore t-shirts and shorts, everyday, rain or shine, hot or cold weather.

There is a guy I work with who only wears pants, long-sleeve shirts and a jacket, everyday, rain or shine, hot or cold weather.

If I could somehow arrange for the two of them to meet, I'm sure they could come away with more balanced wardrobes.

On Saturday, I went to the Sounds of Hawai'i held at the Shoreline Amphitheatre. I thought I would miss the show, but fate cleared my schedule.

After visiting various vendors and buying a couple of CDs for autographs, I spent the rest of the afternoon in the shade of the Hukilau Bar, which featured local talent like the Pupule' Boyz and Aloha Brewed.

Before the evening show began, Brook Lee (Miss Hawaii and Universe 1997) and Sam Choy, the hosts of the evening, took forever praising and introducing one another. The music itself was good, so good. Ten Feet and Mark Keali'i Ho'omalu (of Lilo & Stitch fame) were part of the lineup. When the Makaha Sons (of Ni'ihau) sang "White Sandy Beach", accompanied by graceful hula dancers, I was overcome with a feeling much like homesickness, a longing to return.

Robi Kahakalau and Raiatea Helm both sang with the Makaha Sons. Raiatea blew away the crowd and I'm a little taken with her. She also sang a duet with Ten Feet, a cool cover of the Bee Gees' "Islands in the Stream".

The signs at the venue should really read, "No cameras allowed for those gullible enough to believe cameras aren't allowed." Next time I'll know better.

This morning, I was stuck in the middle lane of a three-lane metering light queue. I watched as cars were seemingly flung onto Highway 85, drivers flooring their accelerators and reaching higher-than-speed-limit velocities in a matter of seconds.

1. the scene where the fighters were launched into space from the tubes of the warship
2. one of the characters was named Starbuck

As I reached the line, my eyes scanned the dashboard and my hands braced the steering wheel for my own "launching". With my back pressed against the seat and foot against the pedal, my fighter sedan went hurling down the freeway, lane markers zipping by at an incredible ahem 65 miles per hour. All of the while, my imagination was running away with me.

I would probably have less of these flights of fancy if I watched less television growing up and drank less coffee on Monday mornings.

Over the past couple days, I've gotten two wrong number calls on my cell phone. The first one was some guy asking for a girl named G. I thought nothing of it. Every few months I get a random call asking for somebody else. It had been a while, so I figured one was about due.

Last night, I got a second call. It was another guy asking for the same girl or at least one with the same name. The unique name piqued my curiosity and now I wonder if there will be third call.

My clueless side thinks this a random coincidence. My suspicious side thinks something fishy is going on. Without more information to go on, I'm just cluelessly suspicious.

A new music show called Smash premiered on Wednesday. I had taped it and decided to watch it last night. It comes on right after Boarding House, which ends next week (bummer!). The surfumentary has been one of my summer favorites. I can't wait to follow the triple crown of surfing this November.

Anyway, Smash has live performances from various "big name" artists. This week's episode included The Ataris, Black Eyed Peas, Monica, Gavin DeGraw, and Evanescence. I dig the first and last groups in thr list, but the others I barely know, which is part of the show's appeal. It's great to hear something familiar and discover something new. Now if there was a series showcasing local and indie groups, that would be sweet.

The hosts were the hot and cute (or cute and hot) Emily VanCamp and Gregory Smith of Everwood. The weakest moments of the show were the interviews. Maybe they could copy Hey! Hey! Hey! Music Champ and have a couple of quick-thinking comedians (like Downtown) host, interview and play games (like Jenga) with the artists.

Since I'm slow, Elke, Courtney and Ealasaid have already written about the blog meetup. Instead of repeating what they said, I'll just throw in a few of observations.

I'm still not sure if the random guy who stopped by completely grasped the concept of blogging or why bloggers would choose to meet over coffee. He looked confused.

Purple monkey dishwasher. I don't know why I remember the phrase. It's just stuck in my head.

In a group of bloggers, it shouldn't surprise me to find at least one or two with the capability to post entries or photos remotely.

I got my complimentary antwon.com bumper sticker, which made me wonder how many people produce blog-related merchandise and just how many people buy such merchandise.

I can't recall a conversation where serious consideration was given to methods of branding a blue whale as part of a web marketing campaign.

Yeah, good times!

A lengthy entry about a typical run, one Monday night...

I stepped out into the night air. It was around 8:30, with only a little daylight left. I walked out to Main Street and took two steps east, away from town and towards the highway. I jumped a couple of times to loosen my muscles and pump up my motivation. Then, I just ran.

Steadily, I went straight over the overpass and all the way to stoplight. I made a left at the light and ran down a two-lane road, which had no streetlights or sidewalks, but was lined with fields on either side. The path was darkening quickly. Every now and then, a passing vehicle would light the way.

I love quirky songs and Fountains of Wayne has my heart with "Stacy's Mom". It's sounds so sweet and innocent with tight harmonies and hand claps, but the lyrics tell a different story. It's a hilarious song.

Stacy's mom
Has got it goin on
She's all I want
And I've waited for so long
Stacy can't ya see?
You're just not the girl for me
I know it might be wrong but
I'm in love with Stacy's mom

D, my younger sister and only sibling, has a way of putting things into perspective for me. On Monday, after enduring one of my distress sessions and giving some sound advice, she concluded by asking me, "So, what are you going to do to take care of yourself tonight?"

It was an easy question, but I found it hard to answer at first. I wanted to sarcastically say, "I'm going home to sit and wallow the day away." But that sounded pathetic and just a tad defeatist. Plus, she would have berated me for being a smart-ass, so I didn't mess around.

It made me focus on a manageable amount of my future, rather then letting me dwell on and feel overwhelmed by the past. It bluntly asked if I was going to continue to harm myself with self-destructive thoughts or if I was going to allow myself to get better. I was removed from the role of passive spectator or helpless victim and required to actively plan and ultimately take responsibility for myself.

Tonight, the answer is easy. I'm going to meet up with some fellow bloggers to enjoy their company over an espresso or two (or three). It's such a good question. I just need to remember to ask it.

Song on my mind... "Think Twice" by Eve 6

Think twice before you touch my girl
Come around I'll let you feel the burn
Think twice before you touch my girl
Come around no more

She spreads her love
She burns me up
I can't let go
I can't get out
I've said enough
Enough by now
I can't let go
I can't get out

I heard the song on the radio the other night and couldn't identify who it was at first. I didn't find out until this morning, when the DJ back-announced the song. It's seems like forever since their last single. I still love the lyrics from "Inside Out"...

Want to put my tender heart in a blender
Watch it spin around to a beautiful oblivion

They'll be giving a free performance at Music In The Park on August 14th. That should be a good show.

I have the uncanny ability to stress myself out over things that have happened and can't be changed. I torture myself with a constant stream of guilt and regret. I replay the conversation over and over, searching for ways I could have said things differently, made things better or prevented the other person from hurting.

This is what happens when I say no and it's the reason why I don't say no enough. I'm still too eager to please, afraid a negative response will cause conflict. I should be stronger and more secure. People are going to dislike me and be angry with me. It's an obvious fact I conveniently forget until somebody reminds me with a smack upside the head.

Today was busy, peaceful, distressing, reassuring and exhausting. Between all of the emotions, I got nowhere near posting an entry, which brought about the emotion of guilt. So I sit here, still experiencing guilty exhaustion, attempting to gather my thoughts. So let me do a quick baker's dozen...

1. "May I smoke in here?" "Only if you're on fire."
2. Barbecue with good food and good company.
3. Played a couple rounds of Quarters, a crazy card game.
4. a.k.a. Screw Your Neighbor (according to the youngsters)
5. a.k.a. Take All of David's Quarters (according to me)
6. Eleven-year olds play ruthlessly and have no sympathy for poor twenty-somethings trying to make it in this world.
7. Stopped by Japantown's Obon Festival on Sunday.
8. Went to the Mountain Winery in Saratoga that evening.
9. It is a beautiful venue with a wonderful view of San Jose.
10. The Mother Truckers opened and had a great song called "Put the Gun Down".
11. Dwight Yoakam was the main act and was excellent.
12. I especially loved "The Back of Your Hand", "Two Doors Down" and "Fast As You".

Addendum: Technically, the photo is the thirteenth, but I'm not one to quibble... apparently.

13. Accidentally woke up early on Sunday (thinking it was Monday) and went running against my will (since I couldn't fall back asleep).

Song on my mind... "White Flag" by Dido

And when we meet
As I'm sure we will
All that was then
Will be there still
I'll let it pass
And hold my tongue
And you will think
That I've moved on

Her new album isn't out until September, which seems way too far off.

Five ingredients for a worry-free weekend, a little...

1. cinema (Arnold or Depp & Bloom)
2. music (Beyonce or Yoakam might do)
3. running (coastal, preferably)
4. reading (unread Potter pages work fine)
5. sleep (head-on-pillow time is always a winner)

A little distraction could be the remedy. Have a good weekend!

This entry will sound schizophrenic, but that's fine. It's really only here to keep things moving down the page. So please enjoy the blurry billiards table. J must have thought I was odd when I pulled out a camera and asked to photograph him breaking. I counted to three, he sent the cue ball flying and I reflexively snapped the picture.

That was the night he gave us the happy news of his engagement. We celebrated with a couple of shots of jagermeister (a.k.a. game handicappers) and a few more rounds of eight ball.

Exactly one week ago, my life was pretty simple and drama-free. Now I feel like I'm in a soap opera and I don't like the feeling. All I want is a friendship, but this friend wants our relationship to be more than platonic, knowing full well it can't be.

I feel angry and betrayed. This isn't what I wanted. A friendship that once felt good, now feels complicated. In our day-to-day contact, I've tried to pretend nothing is different, but it's clearly not the same. I wish things could be as they were, but I can't see how to get us back to good.

For the past few days, this has been eating away at me, twisting my stomach and making me lose sleep. Activities I typically enjoy have been less than enjoyable. I don't want to lose this friendship, but I fear the longer I try to be the "nice guy", the worse things will be for everybody.

Song on my mind... "Faint" by Linkin Park

I am
A little bit of loneliness
A little bit of disregard
A handful of complaints
But I can't help the fact
That everyone can see these scars

I am
A little bit insecure
A little unconfident
'Cause you don't understand
I do what I can
But sometimes I don't make sense

There are certain times when I catch myself falling into bad speech habits. For a while, I lost the first "t" of "interesting". It required some careful and repeated enunciation to retrieve it.

Recently, I've been overusing the phrase "Yeah okay". It's said with a hint of disbelief and the "o" is stretched a little. With a pinch of laziness, the first word runs into the second, resulting in a sloppy "yokay". An example:

Me: Are you printing to the other side of the building?
X: Yeah, this printer acts funny.
Me: I'm sure we could fix it.
X: That would be too difficult. Hey, since you're up, you can get the document for me.
Me: Yokay, I don't think so.

If I'm not careful, such slang will become a permanent part of my vocabulary.

Pacific Bell Park is a beautiful stadium full of modern amenities and adorned with plaques and statues honoring baseball in San Francisco. Exploring the park is almost as fun as watching the game itself. McCovey Point, on the other side of the cove, is a trip. It's also exciting to see the gradual revitalization around the park, as abandoned buildings are transformed into residences, retail shops and restaurants.

Enough gushing, here are ten things I want to remember about the game:

1. The First Bassmen sang a great a cappella rendition of the national anthem.
2. Rich Aurilia, Barry Bonds, Benito Santiago and Jason Schmidt didn't play.
3. Jose Cruz, Jr. channeled Bonds' spirit and sent a 3-run splash hit into McCovey Cove.
4. There are still way too many signs declaring J.T. Snow's hotness.
5. The game took 2 hours and 49 minutes to play. The first two innings lasted an hour, as did both starting pitchers.
6. I got a kick out of the big man, with the big bark, who sat a row in front of us.
7. When Tony LaRussa and half of the Cardinals congregated on the pitching mound, the park politely played Presley's "A Little Less Conversation".
8. After being ejected from the game, LaRussa spent another ten minutes arguing with the umpires.
9. Mmm... garlic fries and a Marzen.
10. In the eighth, Andres "Big Cat" Galarraga sent a massive pinch hit home run into the left field bleachers.

Calvin: Hi Dad, it's me, Calvin. I just called to let you know it's a perfect day outside. Too bad you're trapped in a boring office while I'm running around free with no responsibilities! Have a good summer!

Reading Calvin & Hobbes always makes me smile. The one this morning was very appropriate. It's what I'll be thinking as I watch the Giants take on the Cardinals at Pacific Bell Park today. I'm hoping Bonds will hit another 470+ foot home run or at least foul something off in my direction.

Happiness is being at the ballpark on a weekday afternoon.

Should I be smart and responsible, or should I just be myself?

I spent Saturday and Sunday with my parents and sister. We drove over to Half Moon Bay and then Pacifica, where I took this photo.

Taken ten seconds faster, the photo would tell a different story. Pictured would be two elderly women seated on foldable beach chairs, blankets covering their legs. A beautiful golden retriever would be sitting on the sand, behind one of the chairs. The fire would be burning brightly.

Taken only five seconds faster, the golden retriever would be a blur heading for drier land. The two women would be just picking up their chairs and blankets. Water would just be overtaking the fire to quench it completely. I'm just not very fast with my camera.

We had dinner at Applebee's, where I had the grilled tilapia with mango salsa. Since my sister couldn't decide, I joked she should try the shrimp fettucine alfredo, even though she doesn't like seafood. To my surprise, she ordered it. She had six bites before asking for a box. Guess who had the leftovers today? Me (and my big mouth).

Part of me really needed this weekend with my family. Being around them is enough to help me focus and sort through the mess in my mind. Before I moved out, I often took being home for granted. Now, being there feels like such a luxury.

I was supposed to get up early on July 4th to run in Morgan Hill's Freedom 5K. I wasn't feeling all that well, but I convinced myself I could do it. That delusional thinking worked until the last quarter mile, when reality caused a nasty cramp. Thinking about the delicious post-race pancake breakfast (with coffee and bagels) was the only thing that kept me going. I finished with a mediocre time of 26:40.

After breakfast, I stopped home for a quick shower and change before returning to see the parade. Monterey Highway, which runs through the center of town, was closed for the lengthy procession of vintage cars, school buses, fire trucks, tow trucks, horses, marching bagpipe groups, high school bands and farm equipment.

The traffic after the parade was horrendous. Little roads were never intended for so many SUVs. I managed to get out of town and make it up to my parents' place for a tasty chicken barbecue and weekend stay.

We watched San Jose's fireworks display on television, but it wasn't nearly as impressive as the ones in New York and Washington DC. We also watched the neighborhood display as parents let their kids set off various explosive devices in the park across the street. Only the continuous barking of freaked out dogs was louder than the explosions.

On Thursday, we went to the America Festival. We got there just in time to see Chantal Kreviazuk, who performed early enough to get sunburned. My favorite song was her cover of Randy Newman's "Feels Like Home", which apparently appeared on an episode of Dawson's Creek.

Josh Kelley, who I hadn't heard before, performed next and was quite good. He didn't get burned, but did need sunglasses to avoid being blinded by the setting sun.

Dana Glover was the last act and had the luxury of the night sky. She could really belt and it worked on songs like "Rain". It's hard to believe one person, singing and playing keyboard, can generate so much energy.

This recent Dilbert strip cracked me up...

Dilbert: ... I'm embarrassed to tell people where I work.
Dogbert: Never be afraid to tell the truth about yourself.
Dilbert: Because honesty is the best policy?
Dogbert: Because no one pays any attention to what you say.

Ouch! That has to hurt.

After being around me for a while, one may begin to notice I have more than the usual number of Tigger items. It began with buying a simple baseball cap at Disneyland many years ago. I don't recall having a particular affinity for Tigger or exhibiting any of his bouncy enthusiasm, but my folks assumed he was my favorite character and gifts began taking on a certain theme.

I could try to deny liking Tigger, but now I have a cap, two mugs, a key chain, a collared shirt, two Christmas ornaments and a t-shirt that say otherwise. There is also the sad fact that, after all this time, he has grown on me.

Song on my mind... "Happy Face" by Destiny's Child

I woke up this morning,
The sunshine was shining
I put on my happy face
I'm living, I'm able,
I'm breathing, I'm grateful
To put on my happy face

I've been playing this song way too many times over the last couple of days. It seems especially appropriate for this beautiful weather.

This was written on Sunday afternoon, while in Capitola, a little town next to Santa Cruz.

I'm sitting on a boulder against a cliff of the Capitola Beach. If I could, I would sit out here all day. This is a personal retreat, a chance for solitude. Nobody here knows me. They don't know my worries, aspirations, likes or dislikes. Nobody cares if I write in this notebook, read a book or stare at the surf.

It is a comfortably cool and breezy day. The waves come rolling in, their roar building as they approach. Some simply fizzle and subside, while others bombard the shore. Surfers in wet suits ride the swells. Men and women lay out on the beach. About fifty feet away, a young woman sits on another boulder and sketches the scenery. A dog scampers away from the incoming tide, only to turn around and chase the water back out as it retreats.

There are so many days when I feel to be alone is to be incomplete. But sitting here by myself, I don't feel less than whole. This solitude is precious and desired. How many more weekends will I have like this one? How many more chances will I have to escape to places like this, before my life becomes too complicated, overtaken by other obligations?

It is such a beautifully clear day. I can smell the salt in the air. Skimboarders run along the sand, chasing after the receding waves and gliding across the thin film of water left behind. Families come and go. The sea of people is constantly changing like the ocean itself. How I wish I could stay, but it's getting late and I must go too.

I don't get a chance to do it often, but I love shooting pool. Last night, after a quick stop for dinner at TK Noodles, we hit South First Billiards, which has nice Monday night rates on tables. We played some cutthroat and eight ball, with no one really running the table. It was better that way.

1. the chaos of a solid break scattering everything across the felt.
2. the cue ball rolling back perfectly to set up the next shot.
3. barely brushing a ball hugging the cushion, causing it to roll and drop into a corner pocket.
4. the blue chalk.
5. racking the balls to break them again.

It isn't a very widely known or celebrated day, but it's usually marked by the enactment of new laws, budgets and fare hikes. To ring in the new fiscal year, I thought it would be appropriate to make a resolution.

Since I've been getting up too late to catch the train recently, starting today I resolve to get up fifteen minutes earlier (a.k.a. the time I'm supposed to be up, if we want to get technical about it). Considering that I'm typing this on the train, this resolution is going well so far. Let's see if the success lasts longer than a day.