competitive spirit was in full bloom and I was a blond-haired golden god who could run like the wind. It was close but the ball came in as I was rounding third base. I was running towards home plate and saw the kid catch the ball and try to get a grip on it to tag me out. Going full throttle I ran at him and as he prepared to tag my chest I went under him, hitting a patch of gravel, and sliding with my bare skin over the hot blacktop into home plate for the run. It totally fucked my shit up. I was crying and had to go see the nurse and tolerate her dabbing my entire fleshy leg in peroxide. I got patched up and sent back to the field only to find out that the sub had called me OUT, despite effectively avoiding the tag while sustaining my injury. I argued. I showed her my bloody leg. I practically pleaded with her as she just moved the game along to making my run’ count to no avail.
As I sat tripping in the field of the final dead show in California I had an epiphany watching the Grateful Dead’s graphic displays on giant television screens, while they played something or other I didn’t recognize. In that split second of time I remembered everything about what I just wrote down, finally realizing why I hated sports so much for all these years. What I thought was an unbiased educated dismissal of an entire community was actually only a response to an inadequacy from my past. I realized every bad sports memory I have was a device of my own creation as a result of my feelings from one single stupid incident. I would never have associated disliking sports with childhood trauma but once that thought was acknowledged I couldn’t turn away from the truth. I have been playa-hating, literally, for most of my life based on an elementary school memory so deeply rooted only the perfect combination of meditation and hallucinogens could have brought enlightenment to the surface. How can I hate something that simply is? All the experiences of my life have immersed me in the joy and complex simplicity of life so why am I devoting my angst and ire to something I have no control over?
So, I guess maybe I’m probably the only person in the world who learned to re-appreciate sports at a Grateful Dead concert.
The “Steal Your Face” with the San Francisco Giants logo in it. Everything finally made sense in that one instant, like I had made a connection to the world. It gave me a lot of things to think about. It helped let me give up my fear and wrong thoughts concerning sports. The bitterness left me. I even understood I didn’t need any more LSD. I had used it to get where I needed to be and now I have a bit of things to think about.
Looking back, I think maybe I was soul searching a little when I decided to take this trip, but it turned out to be far more enlightening than I ever expected it could be. Ever since coming to college I’ve been aware that there is so much more to life than just dreary old Texas towns. This is a knowledge that has motivated lots of different road trips and mini-adventures, each of which has helped to expand my consciousness and make me a much more well-rounded person. Being poor and willing to travel unaccompanied by the comforts of home (that’s a laugh) has helped me to avoid the Teddy Roosevelt method of exploration where everything becomes sanitized. I’m a firm believer in total immersion and this trip has been exemplary. I’ve done and seen so many cool new things and I finally got the chance to let go and fall truly and deeply in love with reciprocation. So while I’m sad my vacation is nearly over, I’m tired and looking forward to being wrapped in Jenifer’s loving embraces again. It’s a good feeling to know that somebody is waiting for you at the end of a long hard road. Like a soothing shower after a long day of manual labor, a small slice of heaven. (Cue the Crue here) “I’m on my wayyyyyy…”
The last show for the season in California was excellent but I’m beginning
As I sat tripping in the field of the final dead show in California I had an epiphany watching the Grateful Dead’s graphic displays on giant television screens, while they played something or other I didn’t recognize. In that split second of time I remembered everything about what I just wrote down, finally realizing why I hated sports so much for all these years. What I thought was an unbiased educated dismissal of an entire community was actually only a response to an inadequacy from my past. I realized every bad sports memory I have was a device of my own creation as a result of my feelings from one single stupid incident. I would never have associated disliking sports with childhood trauma but once that thought was acknowledged I couldn’t turn away from the truth. I have been playa-hating, literally, for most of my life based on an elementary school memory so deeply rooted only the perfect combination of meditation and hallucinogens could have brought enlightenment to the surface. How can I hate something that simply is? All the experiences of my life have immersed me in the joy and complex simplicity of life so why am I devoting my angst and ire to something I have no control over?
So, I guess maybe I’m probably the only person in the world who learned to re-appreciate sports at a Grateful Dead concert.
The “Steal Your Face” with the San Francisco Giants logo in it. Everything finally made sense in that one instant, like I had made a connection to the world. It gave me a lot of things to think about. It helped let me give up my fear and wrong thoughts concerning sports. The bitterness left me. I even understood I didn’t need any more LSD. I had used it to get where I needed to be and now I have a bit of things to think about.
Looking back, I think maybe I was soul searching a little when I decided to take this trip, but it turned out to be far more enlightening than I ever expected it could be. Ever since coming to college I’ve been aware that there is so much more to life than just dreary old Texas towns. This is a knowledge that has motivated lots of different road trips and mini-adventures, each of which has helped to expand my consciousness and make me a much more well-rounded person. Being poor and willing to travel unaccompanied by the comforts of home (that’s a laugh) has helped me to avoid the Teddy Roosevelt method of exploration where everything becomes sanitized. I’m a firm believer in total immersion and this trip has been exemplary. I’ve done and seen so many cool new things and I finally got the chance to let go and fall truly and deeply in love with reciprocation. So while I’m sad my vacation is nearly over, I’m tired and looking forward to being wrapped in Jenifer’s loving embraces again. It’s a good feeling to know that somebody is waiting for you at the end of a long hard road. Like a soothing shower after a long day of manual labor, a small slice of heaven. (Cue the Crue here) “I’m on my wayyyyyy…”
The last show for the season in California was excellent but I’m beginning
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