when a stunning Yankee bottom of the 9th comeback becomes watching the captain carried off the field with a fractured ankle, say hello to my old friend depression. the swings of emotion last night were gut wrenching. i live and die with this shit. it should not come to a surprise to anyone when i'm dead in my mid 50's.
not really in the mood for sports today but it's Sunday. i've already picked up the trash and i have no desire at all to clean old antiques. so football it is. i have no confidence in my fantasy teams today. i have shitty choices all over the place.
keep in mind that my personal mantra since i was 5 has been aim low and accept when you outdo your own negativity. it's worked out ok so far in my life. i think it would probably take a lobotomy for me to have a positive view of life.
i imagine i will flip over to the Yankees sometime in my football viewing to see how bad it is. i haven't watched a Yankee playoff game without Derek Jeter since i was very young. early 1980's young. fuck i feel old at the moment.
all the crops are off as of last night. but, of course, the wind today is out of the south and blowing all the shit from the harvested fields up to the house. i may just be a power outage away from deciding it's time for the madness to take over.
Of Monsters And Men - My Head is an Animal
TV on the Radio - Nine Types of Light
"Listen; there's a hell of a good universe next door: let's go." - e.e. cummings