Monday, February 03, 2014


Someone asked me how much of the game I watched. The only part of it that I saw was Queen Latifah singing America the Beautiful with a bunch of pink-faced teenagers, after which I fled.

No, it wasn't her singing. And yes, it's a sappy song.

It rained yesterday, and consequently there were far better things to do than sit inside watching a foregone conclusion. Denver, as everyone now knows, passed around a bong with some recently legalized green stuff before coming out for the anthem -- a ritual about communing with nature and our great warrior spirit ancestors, or something -- and romped on to total defeat. Which, naturally, I found out from Facebook mere moments ago.

I've never played football. American football. I've been forced to play soccer, but that was when I was much younger. The one sport which I truly and vividly remember is field-hockey.
Field-hockey is epic.


As I understand it, the males from two or three high-school classes are given curved pieces of wood, along with a small wooden ball, and told go get sweaty over at the furthest end of the sportsfields, where they won't bother the girls doing calisthenics in teeshirts and bloomers, who are very closely supervised. Hedged-in, like prisoners.
The boys aren't supervised; it is assumed that they will behave.
As long as they are nowhere near the girls.
They'll be energetic.

So. Forty or more teenage boys and wooden implements.
A big soggy expanse of grass.

I have avoided team-sports ever since.
Actually, all sports.

Yesterday I got back to San Francisco by late afternoon (tea-time), and had a cup of tea. The apartment was completely empty except for myself, as my apartment mate was spending all weekend with her boyfriend; she didn't return till around ten o'clock.

Around dinner time I took a long walk with a pipe-full of pressed Virginias, then had some more tea, and a cookie.

Not once did I turn on the telly.

I'm not a fan of team-sports. And the whole idea of spending several hours watching a game with a crowd is quite unappealing. Yowling and hooting in concert with others has precisely nothing to offer.

I'm not good with crowds; I interact best one on one.
Cheerful discussions, and sparks of humour.
Occasionally, howling at the moon.

Actually, the howling part is rare. There has been no howling in years.
Tandem howling takes a person with just the right attitude.
One must be selective about one's co-howler.

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