she’ll be blood-drunk and running along the roads talking in your own voice, Mr. Peterson

Sports are cool, I am more or less into sports. But baseball is different from sports. Watching baseball is more like some crude oblique worship for me. We will sit in the sun like reptiles, or reenact that experience at home (I have many lamps). We will sit like reptiles, passively entertained by an old-timey game that vibrates on some secret wavelength. We will have reptile snacks and we will watch dudes in matching outfits perform this weird, vaguely agrarian set of motions that mimic rock-hucking and rail-splitting. Why would I not want to do that as much as humanly possible over the next seven months, and then spend the desert months of winter reading and talking about which dudes might wear which outfits next year. You don’t have to answer that.


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