It's tired for a sunday nite

or I am.

The spare language we use or save. Here's a description of every thought we've ever had together: blank blank blank.

Diced and snake-eyed. I forget who I'm talking about, ok?

I pay my loans in installments. I wash my dishes with a rough sided sponge. I wish my friends were a constellation I could crawl up next to.

My body was four-sided once and you rolled up to it with your limp and heather. You knocked my ribs around looking for a way in, looking for answers.

Wait, the phone's ringing. Wait, the tapwater's dusty. Wait, there's a stranger handling the door.

My sign is a cramp-handed ego. You're laughing like the grapes have gone drunk. We'll sit in the rain wet shadows with our mouths shut, peeling away the tart skin from the fruits we stole.

Some garden, this. Wait, what are those starbursts on your chest...

football: damn the eagles' eyes

or maybe not. maybe damn the eagles' special teams players eyes but this does not bode well for the oncoming season. to lose to Green Bay on opening day...oof! it may well be a string of sad sundays. if anyone was wondering, yes, i'm a birds fan, even in this age of player ownership and fantasy decentralization. (and the notoriously injury-prone d. mcnabb is my fantasy qb in two separate leagues--keep that knee safe!) it made me feel good to hear marshall faulk pick the eagles to go to the superbowl this year. it's pretty much a wash for any nfc team, considering the strength of the teams all across the afc, but i'd still love to see the iggles make their way to a loss at the end of the end of the season. who knows? indy and new england could play each other and decimate each other's health and well being leaving only a surprisingly strong looking pittsburgh team, a san diego team which may well have the most individual talent in the nfl and a cincinatti team, anyway, you get my point...the lovely and unproven nfc east will be a battleground--an ugly and low scoring battleground. or it won't be and dallas will have a stellar year and i'll have to get into a fight with dino about this some weekend over an egg, cheese, and ham sandwich and some coffee while my dad tries to figure out who it is that's come over to us and chatted him up for 10 minutes.

when i was just starting my teen years, i used to get dressed in eagles gear from head to toe and as the team floundered, inevitably, i would grow angry. serious angry. stomping and shouting and throwing of things and kidcursing, leading eventually to a change of clothing and a change of channel to the afc coverage while my father hung clothes out to dry (even into the late autumn when the socks and undershirts would take a few minutes of being indoors to lose their hanging shape) and made some kind of meal which we'd house together in between games. usually a pound of pasta that would disappear magically as the day grew dark and houselights came up. most sundays involved a late afternoon nap, sometimes all the way through the second half of the late game. immobile sundays.

and yes, i realize there is no consistency to anything that happens in/on this space. maybe that's too bad, but i like things that shouldn't readily be seen together (like chats about football and a renamed map of the heart) and i like how life produces a vast difference in people's interests.

maybe next will be a list of things that i think other people should like with a comparison to things i like. but who in hell cares about any of that? aside from every magazine that ranks anything according to people's preferences?

i am not a magazine. i like you all, whoever you are. thanks for being here and bored enough to read this. Go birds!