wu-tang wednesday 8

dollar dollar bill, you all.

happiness and jealousy

Dude was tall. Real tall. Duck down when he got on the train tall. And his face? A super long and impressive canvas for those bushy blonde mutton chops.

He swayed when he walked. I couldn't tell if he was drunk or had some kind of swagger. The bottles clinking in his "I love new york" bag solved that mystery right quick.

"I want to sit" he said, his voice raspy like a slow hacksaw moving through wood.

The guy and girl sitting down moved closer to the opposite polls and he sat between them. His knees bounced up and down. His thighs twitched open and shut. He shot looks left and right and left again. Dissappointment is what I read in his face. Then, with fingers nervously tapping his discman, he stood back up and took a couple steps down the train.

”I want to sit," he said again, this time talking to a different duo.

Like the first, they pushed over a bit to give him some extra room. He sat and, again, began bouncing his knees and opening and closing his legs. He was not being mindful of his neighbors' space at all.

The guy sitting next to him had enough. He stood up.

"Thank you," the tall man said with a sarcastic snarl, like the extra space was something he was entitled to.

He sure acted like he was. As soon as the space opened up he turned sideways so that his legs stretched and blocked anyone from sitting next to him. As if to prove his point, he put his bag on the seat.

I stared at him, intrigued, as he pulled a bottle of Brooklyn lager out of his shopping bag. Was he going to drink it? Did he have one in that little bag for me?

Holding the bottle like a delicate piece of crystal, he breathed on it and buffed it with his shirt. Then, when its level of shine reached the sparkle he wanted, he placed the bottle against his cheek and smiled.

Bliss. He was experiencing pure bliss and I was jealous because he looked happier than I could ever dream to be.

I wanted to ask him what the secret was. Was it the ripped jeans? The timberland boots that looked like they'd been handed down from his grandpa to his dad to him? Or was it something else entirely.

Had I been a braver man I would have asked. I would have questioned what it was that made him smile the way he did. As it was, I just made eye contact with the guy who stood up and shook my head in silent agreement.

wu-tang wednesday 7

alvin is hardcore, yo.

The Trackers.

Was her and him,
Estelle and Jim,
Who set the place
On fire.

Was him and her,
A dashing blur,
Who raced into
The mire.

Now me and you,
What can we do?
Why should we stand
and wallow?

Now you and me,
we'll make them see,
There's nowhere we
won't follow.

the worst world series possible

I suppose I could root for the Yankees. After all, they're from New York and aren't in the same division as the Mets.

On the other hand, I can pull for the Phillies because, well, they're not the Yankees. I've spent years rooting against the Yankees. Hell, one of my happiest sport memories came in 2001 when the Diamondbacks strung together some hits against Rivera in the bottom of the 9th to win Game 7. I even wrote about it.

There's such a different relationship between the two teams. As a Mets fan, I feel I'm always chasing the Yankees on the back pages of the local papers. Just check out this pic from the Daily News:



The Mets beat the Yankees in a game of a Subway Series. Awesome, right? But instead of the Mets getting some love for a game well-played, the Yankees catch shit for giving the game away.

Even when we win we got no love!

But the Phillies. How can I root for them? They're in the same division as the Mets. That would be like a Yankees fan rooting for the Red Sox. A Bears fan pulling for the Packers. It's just not proper.

There's an actual baseball rivalry between the Mets and Phillies. They play almost 20 times a season and chase each other in the standings. And, as a Mets fan, it's been a horrible chase. And I'm not even talking about this year when we should've stopped playing games in June (actually, I think they did stop around that time). But let's talk about the two seasons before that we were in first going into the last couple weeks of the season. You know happened both times? We blew it.

Cole Hamels went so far as to call the Mets a bunch of choke artists on WFAN. He went on our home radio station and called us out!

But he was right. We did choke. Twice.

So what do I do? Do I pull for the team I've spent my life hating or do I root for the guys who knocked the Mets off their NL East Pedestal (however short lived a reign it was) and made fun of us while doing it?

It really is the worst World Series combination possible.

You know what? I can't do it. I can't pick a team to root for. Because the Yankees are getting spanked right now in Game 1 (down 6-0 in the 9th) and that's awesome. That makes me happy.

But the Phillies are spanking the Yankees right now in Game 1 (up 6-0 in the 9th) and that angers me to no end.

I just want it to be over.



addendum: i can root for pedro. he's fun.