Happy birthday to Mrs. Blinky (née Ham 'n' Eggs)! Mrs. Blinky is back in Grand Blanc, living on her ancestral farm, the last farm in the thirty-six square miles that share the G.B. name (divided twixt the township & the city). Good times were always to be had there at the farm, especially the time we were almost stampeded by the cows. Happy birthday, Emma!
The Victors
(№ 19) Michigan 31-25 Air Force
1-1, Big Ten 0-0
As long ago as last season, I cautioned that this year might be tougher than '11. The valiant Wolverines' defense made tremendous strides in '11, putting forth the best defensive performance by a Michigan squad in many years, dating back even before the Rich Rod era. However, the greatest strength of the '11 defense was the defensive line, composed of players who would not be available in '12 due to graduation. Thus, we might take a step backward in '12—experience a "sophomore slump" as it were—before Hoke's first recruiting class are upperclasmen in 2013. I suspect, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say I hope, that this is what's going on with the Maize & Blue, because if the shaky efforts against Alabama & Air Force are evidence of something other than just a period of readjustment after the loss of Mike Martin & company, we might have a real problem on our hands. It is yet early days, certainly too early to draw any conclusions. The valiant Wolverines have two more weeks of practice & one more game in which to hone their skills & execution before we face the ancient foe, the vile Fighting Irish. Let us not forget that the valiant Wolverines did win, & of this we should be glad, not disappointed that they didn't win "by enough." We are not yet sufficiently removed from the Rich Rod era to take any victory for granted; we are in the process of restoring our swagger, we should not yet presume that we are yet again the eight-hundred-pound gorilla we once were… & will be again.
Go Blue!
Project PANDORA
There shan't be a second date with Miss Mozart. The paramount cause is a complete lack of any "spark" or "connection" resulting from Friday's date; rarely have I felt such an absolute lack of attraction to an individual of the distaff persuasion. It was with great reluctance that I hugged her farewell at the conclusion of the evening, & then mostly out of a desire to be polite. There were also mechanical problems with the date, though they could have been forgiven if I'd felt any spark betwixt us. She was fully half an hour late. We were to meet at 7:00, & she transmitted a text message at 7:01 informing me that she was having difficulty finding a parking space. More text messages followed, but neither hide nor hair of Miss Mozart was seen 'til 7:30. We met at Conor O'Neill's in Ann Arbor. I came down from Grand Blanc, approximately an hour away; she lives in Ypsilanti, perhaps twenty minutes' travel. I know all about habitual tardiness, but half an hour is egregious. I kept my Kipling in mind ("If you can wait and not be tired by waiting") & kept my cool, but her stock was falling before we even met. Worse was to come. After dinner (I had an exquisite Reuben with blue cheese, the best part of the whole evening) she wished to stop at a Starbucks for a coffee (hot chocolate for me), & instead of walking the town as we'd planned, she insisted that we remain in the Starbucks for hours. There are more dire fates than spending several hours sitting in a fucking Starbucks—pardon my French—, but most of those involve major physical trauma, like the loss of an appendage.
There shan't be a second date with Miss Mozart, but I am uncertain of how best to proceed. I see two options: one, I send her an e-mail informing her as gently as possible that I've no further interest in her; two, I send nothing, wait for her to contact me, & then scrupulously avoid any further 'phone confabs or rendezvous 'til she take the hint or loses interest, whichever comes first. The first option, the direct approach, seems preferable, but I pause out of concern that it might seem cruel. But wouldn't it be more cruel to leave her to interpret silence? To use the clichéd Band-Aid metaphor, isn't it best to remove a Band-Aid in one swift pull & put the pain behind you as quickly as possible? Opinions &, if I might impose upon you, dear readers, advice would be appreciated.
I spied this image on a Doctor Who fan page on Saturday & it hit the nail right on the head. I would have re-posted it on my FaceSpace page, but that would have been cruel since I'm "FaceSpace friends" with Miss Mozart. The message is effective in any event, but it's hilarious if you've seen the episode referenced, "Asylum of the Daleks."
The Queue
Though I hate the hated Buckeyes enough to ubiquitously call them "the hated Buckeyes," I rather wish I Love Michigan/I Hate Ohio State was simply I Love Michigan. I love to taunt the fans of the hated Buckeyes, when I suffer the misfortune of having to interact with those cretins, with their almost fawning obsession with Michigan. Whereas Michigan fans sing in praise of Michigan, T.O.S.U. fans sing not in praise of T.O.S.U., but in condemnation of Michigan. They must spend on awful lot of time thinking about us to sing, "I don't give a damn for the whole State of Michigan," whereas we hardly bother to spare them a few fleeting moments of enmity. Like them, we spend most of our time thinking about Michigan. Thus, though I hate Ohio State, I wish Thomaselli hadn't stooped to their level with the back half of I Love Michigan/I Hate Ohio State. I've an appetite for that sort of book only during the football season.
Recently
Jim Clark, Jim Clark at the Wheel: The World Motor Racing Champion's Own Story
Steve Matchett, The Chariot Makers: Assembling the Perfect Formula 1 Car
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Thuvia, Maid of Mars
Currently
Edgar Rice Burroughs, The Chessmen of Mars
sundry, Superman: Last Stand of New Krypton, Vols. 1-2 & Superman: War of the Supermen
Presently
Rich Thomaselli, I Love Michigan: Personal Stories about the World's Greatest Team, Fans, and Traditions/I Hate Ohio State: Personal Stories about the Absolute Worst Team, Fans, and Traditions
Sir Ernest Shackleton, South: A Memoir of the Endurance Voyage
Edgar Rice Burroughs, The Master Mind of Mars
Edgar Rice Burroughs, A Fighting Man of Mars
Sir Richard Francis Burton, translator, The Arabian Nights (specifically, "Ali Baba & the Forty Thieves")
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Swords of Mars
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Synthetic Men of Mars
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Semisonic, "One True Love" from All About Chemistry (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary:
"In this world (In this world)
I can see (I can see)
Many millions waitin' in the sun;
So, I'd love (So I'd love)
To believe (To believe)
There'd be one of us for everyone,
One of us for everyone,
Enough to go around,
But that's not what I've found."
Samstag, 8 September
Scott Joplin, "The Entertainer" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)
3 comments:
I'm on the wait and see side (show up and see what happens?) ... see if she calls you and take it from there; in the meantime, don't reach out yourself.
If she does, then you can decide what to do. But FYI, people do get the point of a no-contact; I don't think anyone really is left guessing, especially at our age.
I had a great first date with a guy last summer. We made plans for a second one, he initiated texting the next day, but then fell off the face of the earth. I didn't sweat it, just moved on to the next one. Unfortunately the next one was 25 and has trapped me into dating him for most of the past year, the bastard ;)
I'm always predisposed to go with advice that references Sports Night & Napoleon's battle plan. "We show up and we see what happens." I thank you, cradle-robbing Watergirl.
Sorry for the lateness to the party, but I'm with Katie. I think it's fine to just cease communication. For all they know, you really did get hit by a bus, and that is fine. Some people don't get it, and in those cases, you just ball up and tell them you aren't feeling it. Either way is fine, and learning to tell people thanks but no thanks is a really useful life skill.
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