Well, friends, I keep a sketchbook, I enjoy boxing, and I like to drink. Sometimes, such as this blog will elucidate, one's life can be kindly holistic.
JSH and myself were discussing that we both enjoy spectating a good fight, but the preferred state of consciousness during said observations is one of the drunk variety. Therefore, the experience of watching the fight is one of immediacy, but details of fights outside of the actual moments in real time are sometimes recalled most clearly the next day, looking up information from sports news sources.
Being in the thick of the moment of things, sometimes, with my trusty sketchbook close at hand, I attempt to scrawl inebriated notes to myself to facilitate this attempt at memory. It rarely works, unfortunately, all tending to look like gibberish the next day. Many a time, with last night's alcohol turned to the morning's coffee, I stare, hand scratching head, through the haze at the inscrutability of my own notes.
This is not the finely tuned autism of the average sports fan's record-keeping of statistics and facts. I have no "fantasy" teams, only the fantasies that flow through one's mind as tobacco smoke curls around one's head and the whiskey does its stuff.
--JTD
1 comment:
T'other night I watched Forrest-Mora and Quintana-Williams while under a serious cloud of Duvel's, not to mention a CAO Maduro Churchill.
Come to think of it, I'm typing under the influence of Duvel even now.
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