Last night I went to my first Knick game of the season. The Knicks are not good; the technical term is bad. Going into last night’s game their record was 3-10. They were playing another bad team, the Cleveland Cavaliers who were 4-8. Vegas had the Knicks as 2-point favorites. FiveThirtyEight had the Knicks as a 0.5-point underdog. This was not a battle of titans. The Knicks are one of the worst franchises in all of sports. They have won just one playoff series this millennium. James Dolan is the popular choice for worst owner in sports. Last year they traded their best player, Porzingis, to get cap space to sign top free agents. Nobody wants to play for the Knicks, so they signed what Charles Barkley described as “a bunch of guys.” The rules say you have to put 5 men on the court, so they had to sign somebody. FiveThirtyEight says that everyone they signed was a below average player. I’m not an optimist when it comes to the team. So why did I go? They are still my team. As Seinfeld said, “we root for the laundry.” The bigger reason I go is to hang out with Alan. I did that even though it meant missing a concert I very much wanted to go to, The Sea the Sea and Nobody’s Girl, two bands that are great. Not only that my good friends were at the show. But they are good friends I see at other times. I only see Alan at games.
I make the best of it. I went to Nathan’s for dinner, and that will never not be special to me. Nathan’s hot dogs and fries is as good a meal as you can get anywhere. I’m a man of simple and deeply embedded tastes.
A miracle happened; the Knicks won big. 120-102. It was their first blowout win of the season. Maybe they should pay me to go to games. I’m good luck at winning Tony Awards, why not basketball.
Getting home was annoying, The D train wasn’t running, so I had to take the 1, to the Shuttle, to the 4. At least the rain let up to just a drizzle on the walk home. I did not bring an umbrella.
My mind has been racing, every day that I’m busy I think of many things to write. Yet today, when I didn’t do much too write about, I’m drawing a blank. That’s not quite right, I’m thinking of things to write about, but I don’t feel the spark I need to actually write them. It’s all about that spark. The spark is everything.
Whether I’m writing about music, books, films, or people; I’m writing the spark. I need the spark within me to write and I write about the spark in others. It becomes clear when I go to NERFA. I hear so much music there, most of it well crafted, most of it is competent, but few have the spark. When I find it, I get excited. It ignites the spark within me. I have many reasons for liking and even loving people. I’ll always have a place in my heart for good people. I could even argue that it’s a form of the spark. There are some people that just exude goodness. I enjoy their company, but they don’t excite me. Those that excite me have the spark of genius. Sometimes they aren’t particularly good people. Sometimes they aren’t particularly nice to me. Sometimes they don’t see the spark in me. But I’ll still recognize and appreciate it in them. When they do recognize it in me, the sparks fly. Then I can write without effort. The lethargy I’m feeling at the moment is forgotten. But this isn’t that time. The Knicks don’t have the spark. I’ll feel different after drinking coffee and having breakfast. Coffee is liquid spark. But then I’ll be busy doing other things. Laundry would be a good idea as I’m out of clean underwear. I’ve waited as long as possible to do it.
Wise Madness 