touchdown.

I still love my Pack. Hell of a game. I've got mad respect for a QB that can shake off such a bad first half the way Wilson did, and his boys pulled out all the stops; crazy as their fucking crazy fans drive me, Seattle is a team to whom I'm never sad to see Green Bay lose. I'll be backing the Hawks in the Super Bowl for sure. The Pats were the last team to win back-to-back NFL championships, if I've got my data right; let's see if Seattle can't wipe that record AND hand the East Coast's second-nastiest case of scabies (Big Ben's boys always get the top spot there) its walking papers in one fell swoop.

(it's worth mentioning at this point that, if you didn't know it already, though I myself was born in the chain-link coziness of White Center, my family is Wisconsin born and bred, and, like alcoholism, vowel lengthening, and a fervor for dairy, the Packers run in my blood.)

After my post-Infinite Jest-not-that-traumatic-but-still-stressful-disorder, I flirted briefly with a linguistics text that turned out to be - horror of horrors - not really intended for peop le with any linguistics training at all!!, churned through Laline Paull's unique but messy The Bees in un unexpectedly tidy 48 hours (reports of "Watership Down with bees!" were greatly exaggerated) and ended up panickedly speed-downloading Haruko Murakami's IQ84 via Amtrak Wi-Fi. And that's where I am now, following weirdly calm people down staircases of distorted spacetime, looking out my window at backlit blackness from the train tracks, listening to Ladytron because that's what I do, and realizing it's somehow Sunday all over again.

The youngster to my right keeps eyeballing my beer - Amtrak beer! Only $RIDICULOUS a serving, and thank god it's local - and I feel like he's teetering on the brink of asking me to pick him up a Something if I go back for more, but forget that guy. He can just be patient and wait til he's, oh, say, 16, like I'm pretty sure I did. (memory's fuzzy from all the beer since then.)

The train whistles arbitrarily, but passionately, and I empathize. Sometimes it's hard to control yourself when you know you've got a captive audience.



It's taken me most of the day to come to terms with it, but I'd do it with Richard Sherman, and I'd even let him be on top, and dude, I'd look right into those crazy eyes and ask him math questions, and he would answer them accurately because motherfucker is way smart.

But I don't think he wants to do it with me because he only has like half a left hand right now and that is a bigger concern what with the Super Bowl and all.