On Being On The Road

Maybe you're reading this on the night I posted it, powerclicking the link I posted because we are somehow acquainted on The Universal Internet Skid. Maybe we are both fans of Jedd Gyorko hitting the base balls over the padded wall and into the tiny dirt patches between grass and human seating.

Or maybe it is New Year's Day 2018 and you're only reading this because John Flemgin autotweeted a link to a real story at 7am and @-everyone at your place is still fast asleep. So you're link-jumping to pass the time, like a grasshopper of Online Joy Jumps. Don't worry, friend. E'ryone will awake soon and you'll be able to eat breakfast.

Whatever brought you here and no matter what the calendar squares are telling you, please consider donating to the charity of your choice or engaging in basic human decency activities: Life is too short to spend moments without purpose, except when it isn't or doesn't not, with acceptable consequence.

A few hours ago, I experienced the trance. You've felt it before, I'm sure. Unless you've never driven, I suppose. Never having driven would make it less probable you had an enhanced driving trance. No, no, calm down. I'm not advocating driving under any influence. Sober driving is a hallmark for continued life. Never be the human person that influence-drives. Those are the scummest of scum shit.

No, I'm text speaking, of course, about that involuntarily sober driving trance when the asphalt endears itself to your eyeline and the cracks on the edges clean the grit of your heart parts; A cleansing of the brain space is an integral part of a good drive. To deny oneself of the experience is to intentionally leave an absolved eyelash in one's eye.

Can you pleasen't?? Well, this fanpost is about driving and I will deliver the point home, for I am the paid commissioner of fanpostes, ride along, friend.//Can you please?,,, this is somehow both valueless and preachy. Okay, let's be on our way.

I'm not much on reading sports writers. Baseball text is mostly laughing material to me, the exception being a few writers I've stumbled across. I admittedly don't read all of their work, because I haven't the capacity to concentrate for several moments, but I will champion their careers until the ocean is not.

Rather than reading or listening to baseball-talking, I find most of what makes baseball enjoyable is the game itself (particularly individual pitches within a batter vs. pitcher moment) and the interactions I can have with people discussing baseball. What makes sports a sufferable experience is The Human Experience. And not just because it is an opportunity for me to learn how to assimilate.

When I was a young fan, I found joy in baseball villainry: Picking players for whom I held contempt and singling out the moments that justified my predispositions. Without realizing it to be the case, I was spending more time expressing frustration than celebrating a return from obscurity or an elaborate and passionately executed pitch progression.

And lo, the relieving part of baseball for me is now the joy it brings: Picking a player and watching for tendencies, hoping he will fix the the small part of the zone in which he is missing swings, with sincere hope he can reach his potential and help my team of allegiance.

Sometimes, driving is truly terrible. Stops on the interstate, laneswitching fellows not looking up because they're sending Snapchatz to their peers, or red lights where there wasn't even a traffic signal before. Befuddling horse garbage that makes you want to hold your nose away, you know?

But mostly, the drive is more of a trance than you recognize. A blurred and obscured arrangement of positive outcomes that you could appreciate for its entrapping trance if you wanted.

The world is gradually fading. The natural beauty will be overtaken in a last gasping breath of choking smoke. Earth will glance into a shit-smeared mirror before passing out and drowning in the bar's clogged bathroom sink. Maybe not, I could be wrong. Hahaah, it is so,,hard to__know!!,

Time here is too short to not appreciate the road trance, the call up, the positive and unlikely out come.///God invented base ball in 1596.