Thursday, October 18, 2012
The St. Louis Cardinals vs San Francisco Giants NLCS Game 4 Liveblogtastic
Already in the Fourth.
9:20p Can we please stop hitting the ball right at Angel Pagan?
9:21p Dave Righetti's pasta line is something I would buy
9:23p Every close up of Tim Lincecum makes me think I'm watching "Lords of Dogtown"
9:24p I think I might have been able to hit that 2-2 delivery to Wainwright
9:25p Going to the fifth. Someone sell me some American-made automobiles.
9:26p Ron Gant jumped ship and is now an Atlanta Braves analyst for Fox Atlanta. Of all the times to play that commercial, Fox. Come on!
9:28p Hunter Pence looks like Grendel from Beowulf
9:32p Adam Wainwright is nasty
9:35p One forgets how much they loathe commercials until their baseball team is deep in the playoffs
9:38p Matt Carpenter = David Freese 2.0
9:39p Happy Errant Throw, St. Louis! 3-1 good guys.
9:41p This Pagan dude is troublesome.
9:42p I guess we don't pay Holliday enough to advance to third on that play
9:44p Yadi's not hitting great, but with that face, how can anyone be mad at him?
9:46p YADI! I take it back. 4-1 Birds!
9:48p First drunk text from my Memphis friend comes in; "Lincecum's a girl," it says
9:56p Matt Holliday never catches anything. We should pay him more.
9:59p 1st and 3rd for the Giants. Ensue nail-biting
10:00p Pablo Sandoval is fat.
10:02p Wainwright does it again. Someone give this guy a lifetime contract extension.
10:05p Descalso has looks like a guy that I don't want to owe money to.
10:06p Matheny needs some more discrete signs.
10:11p 3-0 on Wainwright as he tries to bunt. Keep this guy on the mound, Bruce
10:14p I kind of want One Direction to fight Drew Brees. If Pepsi showed that in its commercial, I would buy Pepsi
10:18p John JAYYY!!! Two more to make it 6-1 good guys. We might very well be going to the World Series again.
10:20p The Cardinal farm system has been pretty stinking productive over the last couple of years, it seems.
10:25p The Giants need to stop bringing in new pitchers. I'm sick of commercials.
10:29p Matt Holliday tries to foul off the 3-2 delivery and pops it up to the shortstop. We should pay him more.
10:30p Gordon Ramsay should be a telecaster for Fox. That'd be worth watching.
10:35p Sometimes I wish Adam Wainwright wasn't married. You know, just in case.
10:41p Great Jack White reference, Joe Buck. You're soooo relevant.
10:42p Two more runs and I'll feel pretty good.
10:43p I love this slow motion camera. Whole new perspective on life.
10:46p Yadi is my favorite! Neck tattoo notwithstanding. 7-1 good guys.
10:51p Another pitching change for San Fran. Time to hear more about how amazing Taco Bell's Tacos Locos are.
10:57p Goodnight, Giants. Kozma making it rain. 8-1. Curtains, baby. Curtains.
10:59p Robinson in to hit for Wainwright. Good work, kid. I'm strangely attracted to that curveball of yours.
11:03p Aubrey Huff = Louis C.K.
11:06p Oh, damn. It's Pagan again.
11:07p Hey, Holliday caught one. Maybe we are paying him enough.
11:11p I'm starting to fade, it's after 11 on the East Coast. Let's hope seven runs is enough.
11:23p Sure, you can have a 2-run homer. We'll keep the win though.
11:25p That's a winner. Go Cards.
Tuesday, October 02, 2012
Come take the chunks and pesticides,
and let it all roll down,
the process isn't everything,
the terms and sets resound,
the particle benevolence,
the angle of repose,
in steady equilibrium,
the masses strike their pose,
the actual common sense of it,
the interjection hill,
the steeper that the angle is,
the less the shit will spill,
and gravity continues on,
as kings and kingdoms fall,
in striking sure cohesiveness,
they weren't ever there at all.
now heavy soil and simpleton,
all downhill in its gait,
let's weigh it down, the sentiment,
that isn't worth the wait,
and hydrated hyperbole,
the hypertension spring,
as rain falls like the dinosaurs,
inevitable and free.
its a lustful set of cards,
you are shining in your summer gown,
as I hold you in my arms,
and the earth spins on unceasingly,
as you tell me the truth,
that nothing in my arms will ever,
feel as good as you.
and you are in the distance,
down the interstates and streets,
you are counting out proposals,
you are limiting the sweets,
as volcanoes burst and hurricanes,
make wake of everything,
I can't ever get much distance,
from you in all my dreams.
oh beautiful, yes. beautiful,
my hands are covered, totally,
my lowered lonely gaze,
but fresh is your awaking,
and commendable your touch,
let's abandon arridation,
and take solace in this "us."
specialized and sacred are,
the blind spots in my sight,
the ghouls and ghosts inhabiting,
the corners of the night,
aware of my shortcoming,
as they thirst for just a taste,
of this meat that makes my body,
all my skinny arms and legs.
But I will stand, symbolic,
of a war I cannot win,
and I will die a martyr,
of the silly shit I'm in,
there's no secondary savior,
there's no peaceful compromise,
I will fight for my own selfishness,
I will fight until I die.
No, there might be something bigger,
there might be a meager mile,
I might need to reconfigure,
as a bit more versatile,
for the battle that is raging,
it is marching steady on,
and my life, left in the balance,
is one constantly withdrawn.
so believe me when I tell you,
as I shout it from the roof,
I am helpless chasing justice,
I'm in love without the proof,
there is earth to catch me falling,
there is oxygen to breathe,
there is nothing keeping me away,
from the one that's chasing me.
so chase me till you catch me,
grab my head and make me hear,
that my wandering is useless,
that my debt now in arrears,
it is paid infinite over,
it's behind me in my wake,
and now life, a long time taken,
it is there for me to take.