baseball is life

I am feeling much better. I was watching a movie (random movie on t.v., futuristic soldiers shooting each other, a metaphor on social conformity) and I had eaten a large pepperoni pizza. But a rain came up… a beautiful, soft, gently soaking rain. The sun was low on the horizon, throwing its golden rays underneath the black/grey blanket of clouds. No movie could hold me inside… I had to walk out in the rain.

A coat and a Cubs hat… that is all I took. No umbrella would seperate the rain from falling over me while I walked down the quiet alleyways of my neighborhood. A rainbow glowed above me, trees swayed gently in the wind, the rain didn’t fall so much as it seemed to seep down. I gave myself up to whatever might be inside of me, whatever was bringing this emotion into reality. But walking in the rain, as sensual as it was, did not bring any clarity to me. After a while I stopped under a large tree, its giant limbs stretching high into the sky, creating a wide-open canopy. I could only gaze up into those leaves for many breaths and heartbeats, the only measure of time that I had.

The rain stopped and I turned to home, no clearer than before but a little relieved, if that is the right word for it. Inside of my apartment I noted that mindless dribble was on the t.v. and so I changed it. I was pleasantly surprised to see that “The Natural” was on t.v. and I had caught the last 30 minutes of it. I watched, spellbound, as Hobbs exited the hospital and entered the final game for the NL pennant. When he hit the home run, the lights exploded and sparks showered the field, I was on the floor before the t.v., crying my eyes out.

Swing away Eddie… swing away.

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