So I’m at Cal Anderson park the other day.  I’ve just played my first league basketball game (we lost) and Dan Diamant and I go outside with one of our newly-met teammates (Scott) to play some pickup games.  Scott gets into a game right away because they’re looking for one other guy but Dan and I wait around for the next run to start.  They play to 15 for some reason.  Then we walk onto the court with the other members of our 5.  A big black guy seems to be necessary at parks like this.  Not necessarily to play but to act as a regulator of sorts.  To talk constantly and pretend he’s a basketball expert.  Cal Anderson’s token Big Black Guy (fat, not tall) patrols the court at this point.  Ceremony suggests that the winning team stay on the court while a new group of five come in to play.  It’s first come first serve. Big Black Guy looks at me and Dan.

“You’ve been waiting a while, you guys are in.  You (points at Dan), Tall Guy and You (points at me), Scary-Looking Guy.”

When I write,  I find that I write in a very similar style to the author I’ve been reading lately.  Obviously not as well, but in the same style.  I even sometimes take on the style of people I hear reading stories on the radio or on TV.  Authors whose styles I’ve noticed a natural tendency toward:

  • Mark Twain
  • Don DeLillo
  • Cormac McCarthy
  • Jonathan Lethem
  • David Shields
  • Virginia Woolf
  • James Joyce

Lately, Nick Hornby.

Maybe I should start reading more Melville.

I’m watching The West Wing again, because, why not?

I mean, funny-looking, sure, I’ve heard that before.  But scary-looking?  Really?

My “gamer” friends Brian and Jon came up with a system for how to invite people to come play games with them.  Tired of sending out 40 text-messages one at a time and waiting for a response from each whenever they wanted to do a draft, they decided to separate all of their friends into 10-person “tiers.”  That way, they can just send a mass text to the first tier and if they don’t receive enough responses, mass text the second tier, et cetera. Tiers were decided by the following criteria:

  1. How much fun Brian and Jon would have when playing a game with this person.
  2. How far away this person lives from Brian and Jon
  3. The likelihood this person would respond favorably to an invitation to play a game with Brian and Jon.

I was surprised to find that I was in Tier 1.

Meghan left me with a little red notebook, a lot of Cha Cha photo booth photos, and the lyrics of Bob Dylan’s Don’t Think Twice It’s All Right, taped to my wall above my bed.

I’m not sure if that comma’s in the right place.


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