Some of you may be aware of the dirty little sporting secret in my past, and that is the rather absurd, competitive fondness for the game of soccer. With all this World Cup hoohaa going on over the past few weeks, it's had me itchier than a patch of poison ivy to get out and give the ol' ball a few swift kicks. Unfortunately it's also been a little longer than I care to admit since I have touched said round leather object, and a royal ass (of my ass) was made when we did finally get reacquainted over the past weekend. Perhaps the fact that it was after 8am in a filthy 10,000 sq ft Williamsburg warehouse where this little game broke out did help in my demise, but the bruises sure are an impressive shade of deep black, blue, purple, yellow...green (ew) and cover quite an ample percentage of aforementioned three-letter word region. Pictures? No.
Anyway, the match was only watched today, no active mockery of the fine game was made by me, and France won (yay!) but is sure was a damn boring game. This will probably be the last time sports are ever spoken of here. Aside from watching soccer and burying my nose in books and catching up on the internets, consuming my weight in shellfish has been the norm here - tonights menu included Chesapeake and Malpeake oysters at the Black Rock Oyster Bar. My plans of sun and swimming have been quashed by the Stormcloud That Will Not Go Away Over Connecticut. Indoors rather than poolside, I'm finally getting around to reading Techno Rebels by Dan Sicko. I've gotten a few really great books over the past week and I plan to put a significant dent in them over the summer.
King crab legs from a few nights ago:
That's all. Huge show announcements soon. And I'm getting really antsy to get back into the studio.
No comments:
Post a Comment