Blissful is the morning after the storm came down. The torrent of rain that washed over the town. And then came the fresh start a waylaid Sunday morning bequeath. After the fortnite and a bed lacking sleep.
We think of new beginnings as something so grand. But it is often mundane like a desett of sand. But the journey is fraught with fear and fright. Then we find the prickly cactus and through peers light.
In the heat comes an eventual point, when what was right was shit and what’s wrong is gold. The power it takes to move toward that pivot is the gushing of relief when opening that spigot. Letting those feelings when dormant with regret. Become free with startling candor and repent.
And Sunday came and all became new. The air once again fresh and the sky crystal blue. Whether a temple or God’s green earth, make the time count and may your life experience rebirth.
There’s a new film in town that may be as fresh, as the actors who are built out of mesh. Or any of the devices plastic surgeons use, the solutions to youth that people behold. But you have to be a Maverick to be Tom Cruise. He’s been on flick longer then POTUS in orange hue.
There was a debate on what make Tom tick. Is it Scientology or is he taking the mick? Because he is short or a tad bit loony, jumping on a couch with talk show Winfrey. What ever is said, he keeps in great shape, acting the impossible or eating Gilbert Grape. No, that’s the wrong role occupied by Depp, another mysterious soul whose paths intersect.
They both are known for their acting prowess along with suspected motives with girlfriends and spouses. Both a divergent path to the aging process. One seems active and the other uses a wine faucet.
But this is a focus on one who flies fast, jumps from buildings and trains till he’s gassed. There is other explanations on why he is youthful. There’s money, time and the need to be useful. But one thing you cannot escape. His outlook helps because of his physical shape.
Some can speak to his outworldly influence but he has dedication and a young infusion. Starting with healthy beats of the heart per minute and the endorphins of happy ego synthesis. And nothing replaces the power of work, worthiness and good spirit and the sort.
So let’s come together and celebrate this old relic. Not Tom Cruise or even Tom Selleck. But the Top Gun reboot that finally came to pass. Like a gallstone move or a combustion of gas. And surely Maverick is must see TV even though its pimped as a big time movie. And this acting wonder has done it again. Remaining relevant while being a centurion. J/K, he is not a Roman commander. He is Tom Cruise, the somewhat aging wonder.
Seems en vogue to blare the trumpets and be the psuedo who gloats about being the recipient of handwritten notes. Oh how cherished and responsible art thou who uses a feather with ink even now.
Allow me to utter a bitter retort; when i wrote notes, the e-mail was how to court. And just like then, you wouldn’t hear a peep unless you were a bugger or money to bequeath. But that is okay as I’ve got no more ire except for the pompous ass who says notes are now fire.
Now I must reverse and buy PaperMates and stationary to open the pearly gates. Of acceptance cause now the note is en vogue. Just when did chivalry return and why wasn’t I told?
Who is the person who called out “The Squad”? Is it the leader whose actually a fraud? Who name calls all who he abhors? Who looks in his mirror and says Que Calor? It’s the once underground racist whose supported by statesmen who don’t care about country but about their next bounty. Like Rubio calling a party Anti-Semitic while sweating the booty to NRA rhetoric.
They watch people jailed in the worst conditions but there is no such racist predispositions. Cause this was caused by Obama, they say. So therefore not racist in any way. Except POTUS 44 never caused these conditions. It was number 45 and his silent minions.
And who name calls the squad in these tweets? Is it a teenager or a zealot who prays? Someone who reads seventies comic books or anything with pictures with few lighter notes? But it comes from one orange haired bully who has 250 res who dress like a stoolie.
When playing the establishment in an epic five setter, you get up in skyline running away. In the indentations on his sneaks of Black London and the ominous number eight. Knew him from the volleys he ambush his victim. Like the stench of loss glued like stickum. Like a pickskin to the hands of Lester Hayes, Roger lays down the law to most that he plays.
So when a player has some hope in the form of a crack, the adversary has the name Novak. Rock in frame, eyes alabaster. He shuts up crowds like he is the master. He’s never outworked though his mind sometimes wanders. He pulled off an epic win on a court that grows flowers.
But Roger has his majors and his legions of fans that nobody can challenge in any of the lands. He has Club Fed and the adoring corp of press. Ever since he surpassed the record of Sampras. And now he has staked his flag on immortality, even one loss doesn’t stop the normality.
Of him being one no matter the ranking. On his mountain top, the others are thanking the opportunity to play a legend that is made. He is the King and Roger is his name.
Fancy meeting this feeling on the way to work, getting a mind jolt, a Monday morning twerk. Thinking of how you adorned that white dress. And then an asylum of my head was a mess. Usually liking a red, or a blue, but white was clean and pristine and you.
In a setting where I expected a casual affair, you dressed up for prom and I immediately was not there. Transported to a time when I was giddy, gossiping and awkward about this hot babe I had met afterward. The eyes were wide, busting at the seams and the way the fabric hugged was the magic in my dreams. And you came of looking incredibly clean, like eyes in Clearasil or a mouth bathing in Listerine. At the moment of sight I was left incorrigible by the look that countered a personality so adorable.
And now you’ve taken on the image of a predator and offered my mind another metaphor. But it is the beauty of you, my dear. The growth, the change, the having no fear. And although I’d like another moment with that dress on. I’d much rather see what this new attitude will spawn.
So the last domino to fall was CP3, traded from the Rockets to OKC. They were the team who were postulated. To kill the behemoth by the bay but instead it was the Clippers who came closer, I say. In the end, they did no harm and they made a few bucks shilling for State Farm.
And to those with sorrow in Heat Nation, there will be Justise and they saved face and….when Russ gets a couple of years older, that contract will get a tad bit moldier. And Morey had to make one last swing to compliment his All Star, no defense wing. Cause Chris Paul couldn’t and Harden wouldn’t and Coach can’t coach what he shouldn’t. What scheme wins when its five on four. You better score points cause your giving up a lot more.
Chris Paul will go down as a Hall of Famer, but unfortunately he’s been down cause of physical labor. He is unable to play louder than his bark anymore, making him overpaid when whats needed is more. The Rockets have gotten more turbo in their jets and their press will be feistier, at least theres a chance.
And there won’t be a boy to take all of the Thunder when Paul’s best compliment is a banger from down under. And I can’t help thinking there’s a city that’s winking and liking this sweet revenge. From Seattle was this team stolen where they were once golden and that world championship still lays (and not owned by any (Clay’s).
Pat Riley has always played for the whale like Alonzo and Shaq and some LA Laker but now he is looking at a different bear, a former UCLA Bruin with the grizzly stare. He’s worth a look just because of his outfits styled from Italy with a flair from St. Kitts.
So how is Russell Westbrook on the basketball court? He’s an enigma of the super skilled sort. For a team player he can be a tad secular and like his leaps, his rage goes highly perpendicular. Like his forays to the hoop and his chasm with fans and screams of next question in press corp land.
Miami would be a fresh start for this mercurial player but that contract makes it hard for the Heat to be a payer. For as much of player Russ can and will be, the money owed to him is a enormous fee.
So lets pay our respects to the 2021 class cause if we get Westbrook we’ll be sucking ass with no guarantee we’ll be top 4 and certainly behind a Buck or Raptor.
Baseball is swinging their swizzle stick not capturing the imagination of Reggie stirring the drink. It’s the spectacle that centers around the juiced ball debate when the game travels back to 1998. When all the sluggers increased their body mass while the news centered on a ball getting fast.
The game had two directions to go to juice their flailing interest and more. They could’ve went Avengers and changed the game but went with old tried true and shame. Watching the stars hit moonballs in the sky while choosing to be deaf dumb and blind. And pretend that what we see is not a redux of stars that juiced and didn’t give two fucks (or chasing big bucks).
While McGwire tries to coach and not talk about the past and Sosa has decided to have the face of a white cast. The fans are fed the equipment is to blame for the balls going out like a grapefruit league game. But what we suspect is like 1998 where the game goes into a little self hate.
Where is the beauty of hitting a grounder when the athletes can juice and all be a Bronx Bomber. While all the owners look the other way cause hitting home runs slows down the decay. Of a game that lives up to the word pastime. Like its past time to adapt a new line. And stop putting band aids on things that are broken and realize theres a reason your fans are being stolen.
The games are too long with soo much to do with technology, AR, and entertainment to consume. Pick up the pace and move much faster and stop the sluggish delays as like setting plaster.
So the Derby is over and we can take a nap. Will baseball fall again for this 1998 trap? Choose this temporary fix and we’ll be fearing another embarrassment and congressional hearing.
The beauty of the loss by the USA men is that the marquee of soccer is owned by the red, white and blue women. And one person who can shut up the tweets of orange hair glow is the magnificence of one Megan Rapinoe. She led the charge on the field and off, Her play did the talking and she got Trump to shut up.
And now a sports fan can move to a wicket but before that lets walk through the thicket. And talk about what was proven fortnight squared. And how the men and the women’s results had convincingly fared.
Its clear the ladies deserve their own stage so let them not tangle with men of greater fame. As has been proven, they are a great draw. And unlike Messi, they don’t get tossed and fall. And how we pay them what they obviously deserve for being far superior then those who failed AGAIN to Mexico.
Not only is their play more to masterclass and they also got Mr, Orange to shut his phat ass. But they inspire soo much youth to be better, to be themselves and act as mentors. That is what we should teach today and for those reasons, they need to get paid.
So the epitaph was they won and they shut up phat pie hole. And getting them paid should be easy as they score goals.