Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Little things I like

I've been working on a list...

--the sound lawn sprinklers make and then running through them
--the noise it makes when you move hanged up clothes in the closet
--the sound the rain makes when it hits my window in the morning
--that instant when you see someone you want to see, but didn't expect to
--the roar of hapiness 40,000 people at a stadium
--the groan of instantaneous sadness of 40,000 people at a stadium
--the shadows in my yard around 6 p.m. on a summer evening
--"When The Stars Go Blue" by Ryan Adams, not that crap version by Bono and the woman from the Corrs
--when my grandparents would look through their window and wave when we'd drive up to their house
--when Grandpa would ask me if I "got any good ones" in my baseball cards
--the feeling of doom in the pit of my stomach going away when something goes better than expected
--running on cool early mornings (when I'm actually able to wake up early)
--Hinkle Fieldhouse for a 2 p.m. Saturday game when the sun shines through the south windows
--the crack of a baseball bat
--"Jesus, Etc." by Wilco
--that pain in my side when I've run after eating, for some reason
--feeling like my stomach is going to shoot out my mouth when driving over a hill too fast
--driving on the country roads with nothing but cornfields for miles around
--driving into Chicago with the traffic and tall buildings and the lake
--walking through fog (it's like walking through the sky)
--turning on Jack Johnson's Brushfire Fairytales cd when I wake up early and need to relax and not be mad about it
--the smell it makes when the oil furnace is turned on for the first time in the winter (terrible smell, really, but it's my terrible smell)
--the smell outside on a summer night at the old house in Mooresville in the woods
--trying to sled in my yard, but inevitably running into a tree
--deafness after a concert
--any Josh Rouse cd (why doesn't anyone know who he is?)
--sleeping on clean sheets
--my old sandbox that is probably filled with huge spiders now
--playing basketball on my driveway until late under the moonlight
--sleeping on the driveway
--recognizing all the little idiocyncracies of the people I know and care about
--when a story comes out right/when the tape recorder doesn't break/when the person gives me perfect quotes/when I don't get hit in the head with a flying basketball or flying basketball player while sitting on press row...they're all one
--some Italian restaurant in Durham, NC whose name I don't remember
--the way the Arch in St. Louis gleams late in the day
--when the Star people start ranting
--the smell of a newspaper when it is just off the printing press
--watching a storm approach
--cursing at the Cubs because it's the least I can do

That's it for now.


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