Last night Lebron James played his first home game in Cleveland since returning to his hometown Cavaliers after his highly-criticized departure four years ago. Cleveland played against the New York Knicks, who I cover for the great website Posting & Toasting. The game attracted media attention well outside the world of sports. The game was sold out for months at inflated prices and televised nationally. A glittering crowd of A-list celebrities were on hand–de rigeur for a game in NY or LA, but unheard of in Cleveland. Lebron himself, hardly a paragon of humility, called his homecoming “one of the biggest sporting events in history.”
Two unexpected twists on the road to “history”:
1) The Knicks missed the part where they play the sacrificial lamb and actually won.
2) I got to write the game recap for Posting & Toasting, my first game recap that isn’t just me talking to myself. Check it out. Tell your friends. If your friends are editors for sports sites looking to hire a writer, tell them first.
The early stages of tonight’s dinner???
A snapshot from the first few microinstants after the Big Bang???
Some truths can only be known in the moment.
I needed to buy board games for FANS, the group I founded at my university for foreign and native speakers. So I stopped at Target on my way to work…by which I mean I tried to stop at Target. Despite the store being 10 minutes away, despite having been there a few days ago, I got lost. Twice. Which meant I was cutting it closer than I liked as far as getting to class on time.
I couldn’t understand how I’d gotten lost–twice. Stress can affect memory. The semester’s hit the start of the busy period, but I haven’t felt overwhelmed? Hmm. I didn’t mean to end that sentence with a question mark. Freudian typo?
Hmm. Something might be stressing me.
There’s a parking garage at work. Usually on a Thursday afternoon there’s plenty of room, but today there was an event on-campus and the place was absolutely packed. It took more than 10 minutes after I entered the garage to get to an open spot. Now I was really rushing. I had to scan and email stuff before class and almost no time to do it.
I had to park atop the garage roof, which meant walking down five flights of stairs behind two elderly women who walked like two elderly women going down five flights of stairs. When I entered my building and headed up the stairs, I thought about the unlikeliness of the prior half-hour. What should have taken 30 minutes took almost an hour. I got up the stairs and turned left.
There she was.
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Today I and the other writers at Posting and Toasting previewed the upcoming Knick season. “I and the other writers” sounds wrong, right? This week at work I’ve been up to my ears in nominative versus objective pronoun cases, and if the boys in the lab in my head are still firing on all cylinders, “I” is correct. Eight different views on the team’s strengths, weaknesses, and goals, plus a fun bonus question that also deals with the number 8! Check it out and thank your numerologist afterward.
The end of the work week. Feet? Beat. Head? Empty. Eyes? Droppin’.
Remembered a lover. Thought about lovers as a whole. Wondered who was the best. How does a one-night stand compare to a years-long relationship? Is what matters the peak sex achieved between two people (or three, or four, or whatever you’re into), i.e. their best night? Or is pretty good sex life over a long-term relationship a greater total of quality coitus?
How do you measure a lover? Leave a comment.
Posting&Toasting is made up of Knick fans, and as Knick fans, we’re gearing up for the impending NBA season the only way we know how. Dreaming of a title? Dreaming of being any good? No way! We’re Knick fans! We don’t know success. But we do know weird. So all the writers did a roundtable wrap today of what weird occurrence may go down between November and April (or May, if you’re an optimist and think the Knicks will the playoffs; or June, if you’re off your meds and think they’ll make the Finals). Spoiler: most of the ideas were strictly basketball-related. My submission elicited the following response from my editor: “Dark!” He also added the line “Well, that ended dark” to my entry.
My dream of becoming a hybrid of David Lynch and Peter Vecsey continues, unabated…
Those who know me, and even those who don’t but who’ve had minimal exposure to my blog, know that two of my great interests are the New York Knicks and zombies. I write about the Knicks for PostingandToasting.com and I’m currently working on a zombie screenplay.
If only there was some way to combine there interests…
P&T just published a piece I wrote imagining what would happen to certain Knicks in the event of a zombie apocalypse. Here it is.Bon apetit!
My short story “The Silence Of Elicled” is in the latest issue of Carrier Pigeon magazine. The artwork in Carrier Pigeon is always gorgeous. I was lucky enough to have my story accompanied by the work of Orin Stuckenbruck. Not only is Orin Stuckenbruck an awesome name–Orin Stuckenbruck is a sick artist. You can see paintings and drawings by him here on his website. This image, titled “Elicled–The Sultan’s Palace,” is one of Orin’s illustrations of “The Silence of Elicled.”
Seeing a story you made up in your head illustrated by a talented artist and converted into reality is super super sweet.
Prick of the Spindle posted my review of Joao Cerqueira’s novel The Tragedy of Fidel Castro. Want a taste?
“The third line of João Cerqueira’s The Tragedy of Fidel Castro has God, on a phone call, exclaim, exasperated, ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ The pun and the immediacy of the informality is a promise to the reader that, in a story starring Fidel Castro, God Almighty, Jesus Christ, JFK, and J. Edgar Hoover, among others, anything goes. But in keeping this promise, there’s too much anything going on in too many directions. Sometimes it’s sharply satirical, sometimes almost endearingly sincere; both, under the direction of Cerqueira, are lovely places to visit, yet neither ever feels like home. This is the tragedy of The Tragedy of Fidel Castro: It’s like wandering the desert for 40 years, only to find there’s no Promised Land at the end.”
Want more? Click here.