Friday, April 24, 2009

It's the bottom half, two down, 3-2, and I got no heat.

Did you ever have one of those days when you begin writing something, and as you proof you realize that it sounds suspiciously like a suicide note?

No, of course you haven't.

Either have I.

Really.

I don't know if it's the work, or the lack of space between the work, or the fact that the weather has turned (again) or that I'm feeling a bit under it. But, as I said to my dear Iowa friend yesterday, "my 'screw it' voice is getting louder."

So, as is my usual tendency, I go to the computer in the morning, scroll the news, scroll the mail, click over to WFUV from the campus of Fordham University in NYC, to listen to Claudia Marshall, a woman I've known since just about the fourth grade, and she's playing The Doobie Brothers.

Minute By Minute. Not their best work, certainly, but certainly not their worst.

And I wonder if the Universe really DOES send messages.

Or, maybe Claudia is just messin' with my head.

Or, it COULD be that Claudia is sending messages, and the Universe is messin' with my head.

At any rate.....it just feels as though I'm out on the field, and I'm envying the folks in the dugout. I'm gettin' shelled out here. And perhaps the DL wouldn't be such a bad place to spend some time, for just a while.

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