Every time I walk past the Town Crier in the Common, he shouts wildly about Patrice Bergeron on account of the Bruins beanie I wear for my walks and workouts. Only Bergeron, and every time. The Town Crier never seems to recognize people. So many of us have walked past him thousands of times, but I've never seen him have a conversation where you can glean anything familiar. I walked a quick five miles this morning. Worked on "Eede Upstairs" in my head. Was going to climb the stairs out at BC, but I ripped through my socks. I murder socks and sneakers. Once the heel goes on a sock, it doesn't take much to carve up the back of your foot with the rubbing against the sneaker. The Town Crier was wearing a Santa hat today.
Yesterday marked 1652 days, or 236 weeks, without a drink of alcohol. I don't miss alcohol very much. I could easily pass up beer or wine for the rest of my life, even if I did drink. My interests would be in Islay whisky, but something like that Johnny Dollar Christmas episode made me have a slight yearning for Applejack. I know I could easily have a drink of something, put it aside, have the occasional dabble or dram, but I don't, because of how that would impact me psychologically. I need to be able to say to myself, "You don't drink at all, that's one thing you have going for you that has to be good for your health, too, with all of this stress." It's not an edge, necessarily, but I need that knowledge.
Twitter largely exists for a number of lowest common denominator reasons--narcissism, witlessness, the substitution of actual meaning with a need for attention, moral posing, the dissemination of ignorance, the destruction of critical thinking--but perhaps nothing more so than the constant and total misuse of the world "literally."
Some cracks starting to show in Patrick Mahomes' game. Many dropped interceptions; somewhat more sure-handed DBs and you have a quite different stat line. As I've said, I've seen him play the position at a level I've only seen two other quarterbacks reach. But true greatness in professional sports is measured by being extremely elite over a significant period of time. The 1985 Dwight Gooden was not Dwight Gooden Dwight Gooden, if that makes sense.
I pitched an op-ed that no one else in America would have the balls to write, but I'd write it. If this place I sent it to doesn't respond--which is what I expect with this guy--I'm going to try someone else.
My sister sent me a video of my niece listening to the card--it plays "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer"--that finally arrived. I send everything late, but this time I actually didn't and it got there late anyway. I think she liked it. My sister wrote me a nice note that touched me.
Came up with a nice Orson Welles op-ed idea. F.W. Murnau was born today in 1888. His Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927) is one of the most beautiful things a human has ever done.