Winter of ‘09

I got a blog of my own
Not that hard to do online
Posted every week or so
It was the winter of ‘09

Wasn’t sure if I’d get real far
Didn’t have much of a plan
But there wasn’t anywhere to go
Cause I like the place I am.

Oh, when I look back now
I never really should have worried
Cause if I had the choice
Yeah, I’d do this blog the same way
No, it’s not much, but it brings pride.

Ain’t no use in nostalgia
When you’ve got a song to sing.
Spend my days at the computer
Thinking up some goofy thing.

February’s shivers came,
But winter wouldn’t last forever.
Oh, and as I read the screen
I figured it was then or never.
And I can say my choice was wise
Back in the winter of ‘09.

So I was killing time
I was young and restless
I had to speak my mind.
And though nothing can last forever, oh no,

Even though the times are changing
Bits and pixels have come and gone,
Still I play around with the language
Cutting vowels or twisting a song.

I never want to believe
That my best days are gone forever.
There’s always something new in store.
I figured it was then or never
And I started something new
Back in the winter of ‘09.

Chicago

You kill hogs for us all,
Making tools, stacking grain,
Playing with railroads and handling a nation’s trains.
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of big body and quick mind,
Rumor calls you monstrous and I know it’s so, for I saw a lady in paint, shining by a gas lamp of yours, luring farm boys.
And rumor calls you corrupt and I say back: It is so, I saw a gunman kill and walk about to kill again.
And rumor calls you brutal and my word is: On a child’s mouth I saw a mark of wanton starvation.
And having said so I turn again to all who scoff at this my city, and I scoff too and say:
Go and find any city that isn’t this, lifting its chin up, singing so proud to work so rough and strong and cunning.
Flinging a dynamic jinx amid daily toil of piling job on job, this is a tall bold guy in spot four standing vivid against soft tiny towns;
Angry as a dog with mouth lapping for action, cunning as a warrior fighting against sand,
Bald,
Digging,
Crashing,
Planning,
Building, bulldozing, building again,
Through smoky dust all around his mouth, laughing with blank incisors,
Struggling to stand with all that must pass on his back, laughing as a young man laughs,
Laughing just as an ignorant champion who hasn’t lost any fights,
Bragging and laughing that through his wrist is a rhythm, and through his ribs our soul, Laughing!
Laughing a stormy, husky, brawling laugh of Youth, shirt off, oozing, proudly killing hogs, making tools, stacking grain, playing with railroads, and handling trains for our nation.

You Are Old, Mr. Favre

“You are old, Mr. Favre,” a reporter did call.
“And you’ve seen quite a lot of the game.
And yet you incessantly throw the football
To the wrong team. Isn’t that a shame?”

“In my youth,” the veteran replied to the man,
“I had no control of my arm.
But I do as I’ve practiced, since that way I can
Be sure that I’ll come to no harm.”

“You are old,” said the youth, “as I mentioned before.
And have played with most uncommon skill.
Yet at the end, the Vikings just couldn’t score.
Surely this wasn’t part of your will?”

“In my youth,” answered Brett, taking his helmet off,
“I kept all my limbs in good care.
But now,” he went on, with a sigh and a cough,
“My bygone strength just isn’t there.”

“You are old,” said the youth, “and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet.
But your whispers will stir up new rumors each week.
Pray, how do you manage to do it?”

“In my youth,” Favre explained, “I’d pretend to broadcast
My made-up playoff victories.
My mouth got practice from those years so long past.
Now I can start rumors with ease.”

“You are old,” said the youth, “one can hardly suppose
That next season you will come back.
Or is that not true? You know how it goes.
Will you stay and help the attack?”

“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,”
Favre responded. “Don’t give yourself airs.
I’ll have the summer to think about that stuff.
Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs!”

Bright Star

Bright star, I wish I was strong as thou art–
Not in solo glory aloft at night
And watching, with my constant lids apart,
A natural, nocturnal burst of light,
Moving surf at its daily, holy task
Of ablution for all us human boors,
Or gazing on a softly-falling mask
Of snow upon tall mountains and low moors–
No–although still unchanging, proud and tall,
Pillow’d upon my fair companion’s lung
To always know its soft trip up and fall
Always conscious and loving, always young,
Knowing inhalation, not old too soon
And so stay always–or I’ll faint and swoon.

“Pillow’d” was in this parody’s original vocabulary, punctuation and all. I’m lucky!

Colossus II

Not as a famous giant long ago
With monstrous limbs that go from land to land,
But at our sunny harbor shall now stand
A mighty woman with a torch to show
Lightning in prison off, who all with no
Past to brag of shall look to. In its hand
Glows light for all, and its look shall command
This airy harbor that twins flank. And so,
“Hold on to all your pomp and glory old!”
Its lips say without sound. “But bring your poor,
Your many who want to start again, bold,
Your trash trod down upon, running from war,
All who storms toss, up to this door of gold.
I lift my lamp to this bright, shining door!”

Circling fans

Circling and squaring. Dichotomous? Not totally. Squaring is growing, taking an input and forcing it to rapidly grow. From a straight path, you can form a big diamond, which is just a familiar polygon standing on a point.

But if you start with a small input, squaring will shrink it. You can go on shrinking until it’s just honing on on nothing at all, as if it was spiralling towards its origin.

But both squaring and circling sport a common trait. It’s not that both do similar things; it’s that you can think of both as abstractions. 2-D forms, impossibly thin and insubstantial, but our 3-D world can’t hurt it. Our bias, our assumptions, our not knowing what “famous” should signify…nothing can touch such functions.

But though squaring allows things to grow, circling is only skirting around. Not growing, not shrinking, just turning. And though you turn, you cannot go in.

A Wish Put Off

What can you do with a wish put off?

Will it dry up
As a raisin in bright sun?
Or languish as a wound–
Till it runs?
Will it stink, as rotting food?
Or crust and sugar on top–
In a syrupy mood?

It might just drip down
From a giant cup.

Or will it blow up?

Wait Till Next Year

As time goes on, it’s harder to believe
The worst prognostications people say.
Or maybe I’m just looking for a way
To hold out hope and not let myself grieve.
It’s not that I deny that people leave.
I don’t convince myself that they will stay
But only that they might come back some day.

I flew into New York last New Year’s Eve,
And, flying, saw two stadia below.
I knew there was a team about to switch
From one field to the other one, although
I wasn’t sure which team. But even so,
I watched the fields and wondered which was which.
I did not know. I will not ever know.

2000s highlights

In 2000, it was all looking up. Waking up and watching action in Japan at ridiculous hours, climbing up to Coors, and just knowing that I was living at a bright start.

In 2001, it wasn’t. An old star going away was no fun, but I found that taking out frustration through writing was a good thing to do. I saw a statistic which was said to draw fans to sports again turn into just an old mark.  In August, I saw both Bronx and Flushing host in a day. But sports’ clock would skip and lag until it was wound up again, trickling into an unfamiliar month.

In 2002, I saw my Cubs host and win…in two distinct stadiums, to say nothing of a Maryland visit. 2002 had All-Star drama, possibly too much, from Torii and Barry through to…its inconclusion. Contraction and work halting both brought panic, but didn’t pan out. So that fall, I got to go to playoffs, waving a hanky and rooting for my local Twins.

In 2003, I hit a GWRBI in a softball playoff. That was cool. A baby was visiting during a Cubs playoff-clinching victory; I had to go outdoors to whoop it up. But loss would follow victory, and frustration follow joy. Indignation at guilt’s wrong apportioning would follow that. It was an odd fall, but I was happy to stand around a small radio at its finish, tuning in to follow scrappy Marlins’ championship.

In 2004, I saw Barry Bonds hit a ball into San Francisco’s Bay. I was at a marathon in Oakland; its stadium wasn’t that full, and my family and I could scoot down to good chairs. Or chairs in that stadium’s Fan Cam’s sight. Washington (not D. C.) also brought a cool stadium; I still don’t know of a park in which scoring is as simplistic. So much information on display! Back in Twindom, though, it wasn’t so straightforward. I was at a matchup that had to stop so football could go on that night.

In 2005, though not 2006 or 2007, I could mark off still a distinct stadium on my “to visit” list: Old Busch. MLB said hi to Washington D. C., congratulations to Chicago (’s south), St. Louis, and Boston (again!).  A “classic” that might wind up turning classic had its start in 2006. My clubs won divisional flags, though didn’t accomplish much in playoffs. In 2007, I saw a squad wait until its final inning of play to hit, walk, or so on. And I had a spot to blog about it.

In 2008, I saw Chin-lung Hu on 2nd in California, and 5 non-L. A. stadiums in 10 days–a marathon in Ohio, Toronto, Michigan, Pittsburgh, and Chicago again. From Dan Uggla’s All-Star mishaps to a 4-0 stint against Wisconsin’s squad, it was a wild campaign for a Cubs fan. Twins fandom was almost as lucky; “AJ sucks” was our chorus in a 10-inning rally, but #163 would bring loss.

In 2009, I found out that watching in Atlanta wasn’t as odd as I’d thought. 163 was dramatic again, Japan won its classic again, and 2000’s champions won again. Also, I got this blog.

Amid scandals and off-grass drama, sports go on, and 2010 should bring continuing thrills. I think it will.

Top Nine Searches, part II

162 days ago was the day after the All-Star game, 162 days from the blog’s launch; I celebrated by picking nine goofy searches that take people to the blog. Here are nine more.

• cubs moonman cap (I’m the seventh Google hit for this)
• phillies probabilty distribution in octo (and I think it got truncated here)
• how to keep score in darts (Couldn’t tell you)
• open letter to favre (There have been several more since I wrote mine in June)
• short lipogram in blog (Second hit)
• what website should i use to keep a base (Truncated here)
• kids’+ lipograms (Second hit again)
• who is go go gomez (I’m not sure I really explain)

And…

• lipogram what’s the point

I don’t consider myself qualified to answer that one. But I hope you see a point in coming here!

To those of you who don’t celebrate Christmas, I hope you have a fulfilling end to 2009. To those of you that do,

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