Cloudy

Cloudy
By Simon & Garfunkel

Cloudy
The sky is gray and white and
Cloudy
Sometimes I think it’s hangin’ down on me

And it’s a-hitchhike a hundred miles
I’m a ragamuffin child
Wearin’ a finger-painted smile
I left my shadow waitin’ down the road for me
Oh, I’m

Cloudy
My thoughts are scattered and they’re
Cloudy
They have no borders, no boundaries

They echo and they swell
From Tolstoy to Tinkerbell
Down from Berkeley to Carmel
Got some pictures in my pocket
And a lot of time to kill

Hey, sunshine
I haven’t seen you in a long time
Why don’t you show your face
And bend my mind?

These clouds stick to the sky
Like a floating question why
They linger there to die
They don’t know where they’re going
And my friend neither do I

Cloudy
Cloudy
Cloudy
Cloudy
Cloudy
Cloudy

: )

Yes, this song always makes me smile. And I should be making an S&G mix, which I have promised to at least one co-worker, but I can’t do it this minute. Or this afternoon, probably.

[NOT. IN. THE. MOOD.]

And funnily enough, it was supposed to be sunny today. And cool. Instead, it is cloudy. And cool.

And I had a chance to go sailing, which is something I have never done before, but when the possibility came up earlier in the week, I declined. I am not sure why, other than, at the time, I did not feel like doing “anything” today.

Yes: I could see into The Future. And I knew that, come Sunday, I would not want to have Formal Plans.

And, so far, this is shaping up to be a planless day: 2 phone calls @ 10:45 or so, the first on Line 2 followed immediately by the second on Line 1, both of which whilst I was still in bed ... shuffle over to Ben’s for a bottle of Dasani and a bottle of Coke (I like to think of it as my own private stock; it’s cool to have a vending machine RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET ... a very quiet street at that) ... nutritious baloney sandwich and potato chips lunch ... second viewing of (half of) The Dancer Upstairs, this time with director’s commentary going (I like how John Malkovich says “’member” instead of “remember”; it sounds so kid-like) ... and now type-type-typing away while Simon & Garfunkel play in the background (at this moment: “For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her”) on the stereo, and some ESPEN Classic special on Andre Agassi is showing on the TV.
And I am thinking about going to see Hero because my movie sensei tells me it is beautiful, but if I do go, I would want to go to the 2:15, and here it is, nearing 1, and I have not even thought about waking up, completely, let alone showering. And I have to allow at least 20 minutes travel time, and I am really nowhere near traveling.

So, here I will stay.

Shots of Andre winning the (1999?) French Open, and he is crying and happy and sweet. Will he win the 2004 U.S. Open? I sorta hope so. It would make for a fitting closing to his career ... he could ride off into the sunset, a la Pete Sampras in 2002.

Truthfully, at this moment, I do not care who wins, male or female. This year has been about drawing into Anti-Sports Mode, for me, work-wise, locally, which feels a little strange at times, after 16 years. And I tried to get “into” baseball this season, but the Cubs have been infuriating, and yes, I do like the Cardinals, but my Cards fan friends seem to enjoy harassing me so much that it makes me NOT want to root for the Redbirds, and yet I secretly find myself thinking that it would be SUCH sweet poetic justice to see the Cubs, somehow, meet up with the Cardinals in the playoffs and BEAT THEM.

Although, just by writing that, just now, I have most certainly jinxed the Cubbies. AS IF they needed me to add to the mix. But my, it WOULD be sweet.

: )

And I have watched so little of the Olympics that it is almost as if they have not occurred.

What I do not like is watching non-live sports. I mean, I enjoy these highlight shows and retrospectives and what-not, but there is nothing like seeing a sporting event LIVE. Even if it is on TV, and perhaps you have the few-seconds delay because of the satellite uplink or whatever. Still, it is pretty close to being instantaneous.

Anyhoo, the U.S. Open starts tomorrow, and now there is a special on Billie Jean King coming on, and I refuse to watch it.

Yeah, yeah, BJK, big radical feminist, huge impact on women’s rights, blah blah blah ... and yet, when we saw Billie Jean last summer, at a fucking World Team Tennis event in St. Louis, which is to “serious” tennis what the WWF is to actual wrestling, only without all the hype and costumes and play-violence, she acted as if she were “too busy” to take the time to say hello or acknowledge a compliment or, God forbid, give a fucking autograph to my friend Jody, who had just had the first of 3, count ’em, 3 foot surgeries and yet had somehow hobbled her way through the tennis facility at Forest Park and had stood there, waiting patiently, to get her picture taken with Billie Jean King. One of her “idols.”

So, yeah, I am unimpressed with BJK here in her later years. Her attitude whilst attending a very public event, at which she should have fully expected to have been recognized by tennis fans, seemed rather ungracious, to me.

(I do have a photograph of Jody and Billie Jean, but it is in a collage frame in my bedroom, and I am not about to take it out and scan it and post it. Of course, the original shot is somewhere in lock-up, i.e. the currently crashed laptop. What has it been now, a year? Hell, I am never getting that thing fixed. Let’s be honest, shall we?)

It was awfully damn hot/humid midday yesterday at the freshman football game. (I normally would not have gone, but a co-worker [not the one I promised the S&G mix to] has twin boys playing on the team and she asked me to go, and I said I would, if I were up on time ... and I was.)

The smart people at the game had umbrellas.

And then, later, it rained and cooled off nicely last evening/night, but sadly, I was unable to see the nearly full moon.

And today, again, it’s cloudy.

: )