First and foremost, I won my fantasy baseball league. If there was any lingering confusion as to how this blog was evolving, this prioritized statement should make one thing abundantly clear. This blog is a terribly organized self-exploration of my post-Turnaround journey. I think I mentioned this before, but I’m using shows as signposts. Reminders to write. So, to be clear, it’s evolving to the point at which no one will likely give a shit.
Except me. Which is fine.
I’ll keep posting things garnering a slightly wider appear to the parent site. The Institute of Idle Time, thanks to some new additions to The Faculty, should be chugging along with some new content at a fairly more reliable pace.
In the meantime, I won. And I won’t bore you (or myself, since I’ve established that I’m this site’s only regular reader) with the details. Suffice to say that I was great fun to be around on Saturday when I thought I had the championship wrapped up; a complete asshole on Sunday after Dee Gordon stole a pair of bases before I had even finished my first cup of coffee; and a champagne-popping loon atop Nob Hill’s Pinnacle Sunday night thanks to Khris Davis and the lunacy-inspiring effects of the #Supermoon. There’s also this, if I care to relive things in a little more detail. Continue reading Free Festivals and other Victories
I didn’t have my arms folded, not once.
And MH, despite accepting a better offer to feast at The House of Prime Rib after work, made it to The DNA Lounge in time for the second half of the Zoopy Monsters set, and all of the insanity that is Peelander Z.
It helped that DH sent the above photo to MH in response to his “I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it” text.
Continue reading Peelander Z and the Defiance of SF Audience Stereotypes
This show was on my calendar long before the particulars of the World Series schedule had been settled. So it just magically slotted itself on the night when I needed it most. Between Sunday’s game five and tonight’s game six. On a Monday when I couldn’t do anything but clench my fists in anticipation, still riding the wave of euphoria from Bumgarner’s legendary performance and distracted by the promise of a clinching win at Kauffmann. I was energized from the minute I woke up. And The Rural Alberta Advantage are all about channeling energy. The show was Bumgarner-esque.
Amy Cole felt the band’s electricity align with the orange & black voltage surging through the City. “One more win, right? The fucking World Series? Do you know how long it’s been since the [Blue] Jays have even been in a World Series?”
Quick answer: twenty-one years. Fun answer: not as long ago as The Dodgers.
Continue reading An Orange & Black Advantage