I go a journey in galleries of sound

I love being on the road.... or not....
Why couldn't the meat of our order hit their pitching? Maybe because they have the best pitching in the league?...but I digress. Also...and I mean, this is just a small detail so I can see how our guys might have missed it, but when there's guys on base, it sometimes helps to, you know, help them score. Like, get a hit, or something. Just a small point.

So instead of focusing on the fact that we lost the series, let's focus instead on the "Marineros" uniforms our fancy-pantsed opponents were wearing on Saturday to honor latino contributions to the sport of baseball.

Some observations:
1) Whenever I hear the word "Mariner" I think of Samuel Taylor Colridge and the Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Thus it follows that all of the Seattle Mariners must be tortured poets.

2) Mark Grace is boring. There were minute-long periods of silence during which I could hear crickets chirping.
3) In honor of Latino heritage, and also in honor of the Mariners being poets and also in honor of the Fox announcers sucking, I offer this edition of FSN POETRY, brought to you by Octavio Paz and Pablo Neruda. I may or may not have chosen some of this commentary by opening a book and jabbing my finger at a random page.

GRACE: Welcome to another FSN Baseball broadcast! Here with me today are my buddies Octavio Paz and Pablo Neruda!
NERUDA: to whoever is cooped up
in house or office, factory...
or street or mine or harsh prison cell:
to you I come, and, without speaking or looking,
I arrive and open the door of your prison.
PAZ: If this beginning is a beginning it does not begin with me. I begin with it.
GRACE: Deep thoughts, deep thoughts. So what did you guys think of today's game?
NERUDA: Cold flower heads are raining over my heart.
Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked...
GRACE: So...not good then.
PAZ: The stone lips of the night utter a word column of grief...
GRACE: I guess you're both Twins fans, huh. Ok...well...I mean, your boys left a lot of men on base - lots of squandered opporunities there. How do you feel about that?
NERUDA: You can cut the flowers but you cannot stop spring from coming.
PAZ: If man is dust, all who go through the plain are men.
GRACE: So true, so true. Words of wisdom.
[30 second pause]
GRACE: Soo... Cuddy's been on the DL, that's gotta be hurting.
NERUDA: A child who does not play is not a child; but a man who does not play has lost forever the child who lived in him and who he will miss terribly.
GRACE: Well it's always sad when your inner child dies. I killed mine long ago. (awkward pause) Think the Twins have a shot at the pennant this year?
PAZ: Reality is a staircase going neither up nor down, we don’t move; today is today, always is today.
NERUDA: Will our life not be a tunnel between two vague clarities? Or will it not be a clarity between two dark triangles?
PAZ: To fall, to return, to dream, and let me be the dream of the eyes of the future, another life, other clouds and die at last another death!
GRACE: That sounds optimistic.
NERUDA: We don't do optimism.
GRACE: That's the sanest thing you've said all day.

[5 minute pause. Crickets chirp.]

GRACE: Hey look a fluffy cloud.
PAZ: Man does not speak because he thinks; he thinks because he speaks. Or rather, speaking is no different than thinking: to speak is to think.
GRACE: Are you mocking me?
NERUDA: I'm not sure, I can understand only a little, I can hardly see...
GRACE: You're not kidding.

[7.5 minutes pass. Paz begins to hum a John Cage tune.]

GRACE: Well that's all for tonight folks! See you next week!


Dear Oakland: please be kind to us. As you can tell, my sanity is slipping slowly away...