Funny Images Californian in my bones

 

Only eating semicircles and derivatives thereof.

Not a very full train, gave up my seat so a family could sit together, relocated next to this guy, who began fitfully gyrating and giving me the stink eye for daring to sit next to him. “Oh, paaaaardon, am I taking up too much of your space?” I sniffed at him, my breath hot with wine. I am a reticent Californian in my bones, but for a moment my nerves were New Yorky. Feels novel. Maybe good? Sort of not. It’s so much effort to care, and usually not very worthwhile. So: whatever.

"What I think is that sports really tell a story, really take us outside of ourselves and attach us to a common worldview. It’s no coincidence that we hang on to local, tribal identifications in sports—it’s a substitute for the blood-and-soil politic that we rightfully left behind in our civil society, but cannot help but cling to in our hearts. What I’m getting at, fundamentally, is that to think one’s local team to be superior—or one’s ethnic phenotype, for that matter—is perfectly natural, even if it rides hard against all observable evidence. That said, it should be clear from my shoes and socks that I am more an observer of sport than a participant in it. Don’t mistake me—I would love to have a go at the sporting life, but for now I will have to be content with being a member of the Greek choir in this tale. In this tale of sports."

People waiting and listening to hear what this D train is doing on the F tracks. It claims to be a baseball special, unbound from all ordinary pathways. Fine.