Sunday, November 13, 2005

Not On a School Night

And me without my HBO. I had become very used to seeing "Rome" on Sunday nights, but now, having moved, I am reduced to basic cable and its lesser fare while thinking that 30 years ago I'd've been agog. I mean I used to fixate on the electronic Reuters news crawl with its Muzac accompaniment on Channel 1 while holding what would now be considered a most obsolete control box, with its rows of buttons and switches, tethered to the receiver atop the television by a long pre-fiber optic cord. We had entered the fascinating post-VHF/UHF realm and we could bid adieu to the rabbit ears and the horizontal holds, to the wire-hangers tricked up to the receiver in the back, and to the ancient black & white picture itself.

So very long ago...

Pats win today but I remain unfulfilled. I admit to being spoiled by the extended period of excellence to which they had treated me, and it is rather difficult now to endure their current struggle. To say it is highly unlikely they'll threepeat is to understate the matter, what with the likes of Gus Frerotte or Kelly Holcumb being able to launch for 360+ passing yards against a Lawless secondary that's barely out of elementary. We are instead left with the peasant's resignation in that we cannot win them all.

And so I find myself having thoughts of the hot stove...

Still unpacking while thinning out my material possession. Throwing out much that could just as easily be attributed to a Magpie's obsession for hoarding and saving, in this case of papers and trinketry, representative to my mind that I did indeed exist on this mortal coil. It is why I have taken to cataloguing my life, as having been spent, on a spreadsheet: my personal library of books, a comic book collection, baseball cards, notes from my daily planners dating back to 1980, the episodes of Know It All, my Public Access television show in the 90s -- the like -- and will post it as it presents itself.

Then I will sell everything I own and walk the Earth (an idea from watching Pulp Fiction -- "Oh, you mean you wanna be a bum!"). Could be I'm gravitating to the conclusion I have little to no other purpose in life than to observe that which is... and just take notes.

A Sunday night...

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