Pitch 'n' Putt, Human Kindness, and a very special birthday greeting

Two great writers out on a Sunday afternoon in bloody terrible weather, playin the most infuriating game on the planet. Are there literary possibilities in the game of golf? The purity of a dash to the finish, where only strength of mind and clarity of thought count? Massive forearms help, I guess, an $3000 drivers, an havin the free time to turn professional... nevermind. Golf is the closest thing to chess you can do standin up. Nothin like three pairsa waterproofs, a wooly hat an a bout o hypothermia to take y'away from the world for a bit.

Beckett ain't all that bad, either. Havin actually seen his work performed, it suddenly makes sense. Studyin the text is pointless, an it takes a certain kind of genius to pull off such a seamless transition from written word to performed art, maybe performed reality. Endgame an Waiting For Godot in the right hands make for some transfixin viewing, that strikes its mark wi the greatest force when you recognise the players as aspects o yourself. Not only that, but it manages to keep a sensea humour about itself, somethin Joyce alternately struggled with an captured perfectly, dependin on whether he was composin for that intolerable bastard Stephen Dedalus or not. Ulysses is a crackin book, no matter what mantle o greatness might be thrust upon it, just because it gets the point so perfectly, inhabits the character o Leopold Bloom so entirely, like no one has done before or since. 1922. Unreal. An o course, seein him fuck up a drive on the pitch 'n' putt is comedy gold. Jimmy woulda approved.

So Fusion was on last night, a show o highs an lows. There's some extremely talented folks out there. Woulda liked to have seen more of em. But it turned out to be when we got home that the best story emerged. After orderin Efe's (lovely pizza), we told the delivery guy that Amy said hi, all of us bein slightly tripped out by hunger. He remembered seein Amy a couple weeks previous, huddled in the corner in a similar fashion. The conclusion was obvious.

"You are pregnant!!"

Before rushin back to the van. He reappeared seconds later with a handful of strawberry flavoured lollies for the newly expectant mother. People are wonderful.

But not as wonderful as this dude here, who recently celebrated his twenty-second birthday. Here we see him in earlier times (on the left), recoverin from a nasty bouta sunburn, as was his wont. Happy Birthday Aaron! You are the wind beneath my wings.

Thanks,
Dave.