I’m sure most of you are bored with my daily knee rehab updates. That’s ok, because I’m bored with my daily rehab. At least you can unfollow me. I still have months to go with a recovering knee. At least today I have things to rant about.
Yesterday was the first day that I was completely on my own. My wife left me a cooler of stuff upstairs so that I didn’t have to tackle the staircase too many times. I did some work while The Guru of Go and No Crossover: The Trial of Allen Iverson played in the background, both wonderful. I then did some until around 1PM when I felt like I accomplished enough to log a half-day. A half-day is good enough for now - the pain meds aren’t stopping me from working longer, I take them as needed, it’s the depression. I need to try and see some folks this weekend. I’m talking to my cats. Deep conversations about life.
Watched Troll Hunter - it was excellent. Every movie should be Troll Hunter from now on. According to Wikipedia, Chris Columbus bought the American rights. Can’t wait to see the scene where a little girl is standing in a gas station, holding a troll doll, when a real troll comes into frame and the girl says, “Mommy, mommy, a troll!” and the mother responds, “Put it back, dear, you have enough toys.”
My wife came home and I asked her if she could drive me to the barber because I looked terrible. I got my hair cut and my beard trimmed and then we went to the grocery store where I got nauseous for whatever reason. It just takes so much effort to be out and about.
We ate dinner and then watched Scott Pilgrim vs. The World. Yes, it was my first time. I loved the comics and didn’t believe they would translate well to the movie screen. I was right. It was fun to watch for the first hour and Edgar Wright did the best he could but I don’t understand how anyone thought that this movie was going to be anything short of a niche flick for the thirty-thousand folks who read the comics.
I then read the Kindle Short, The Summer of 43: R.A. Dickey’s Knuckleball and the Redemption of America’s Game. I didn’t know what it was about and I didn’t know the author but I knew I loved Dickey and Dickey’s story and the book was ninety-nine cents so I downloaded it. I finished the book (it’s about a thirty minute read), went to GoodReads, gave it one star and wrote:
This book was so terribly written that it actually made me hate Dickey, baseball, and books.
You see, I’m getting into the angry stage of my recovery. But this book was terribly written. I believe the author MAYBE wrote a second draft, showed it to no one, and got it in the Singles program because no one there knows or cares about baseball or because it’s topical or whatever. And not only was it terribly written - the central thesis is that R.A. Dickey’s first half of the 2012 season was SO GOOD (for an old-fashioned knuckleballer) that it is erasing the decade+ taint of steroid use in the Major Leagues.
And whereas Dickey’s narrative is amazing, it’s not even the most amazing Old School Baseball narrative of the first half of the season. What about Votto and Harper and Trout? Young powerhouses who grew up watching the Bonds and McGwires and Sosas and decided to emulate their power WITHOUT steroids? What about the fact that this is really the year of the fastball with some teams (like the Nationals) having a starting rotation of nothing but young flamethrowers…while Roger Clemens trial wraps up for being a steroid-abusing fastballer?
I mean, there were literally stories that ran counter to the steroid stories from the 90s and naughts. But Dickey? Let Dickey be Dickey, dude. And get serious about writing dude - take a class or join a writing group. Either get serious about writing or start a Tumblr blog, like me. You can be a terrible writer here. No one reads here.