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What my musings are all about...

Blogging might well be the 21st century's form of journaling. As a writing teacher, I have always advised my students to keep a daily journal as a way of organizing their thoughts for future writing projects, a discipline I have unfortunately never consistently practiced myself. By blogging, I might finally be able to follow my own good advice.

The difference between journaling and blogging is that the blogger opens his or her writing to the public, something journal- writers are usually reluctant to do. I am not so reticent.

The trick for me will be to avoid cluttering the internet with more blather, something none of us need more of. If I stick to subjects I know: sports and literature, I believe I can avoid that pitfall. I can't promise that I'll not stray from time to time to comment on ancillary subjects, but I will make every attempt to be interesting and perhaps even insightful.

Saturday, May 11, 2019

Holy Curry!

Holy Cow, Holy Curry! The second half of last night's game against the Rockets was his transcendent basketball moment in along list of Steph Curry's spectacular performances. There has never been an All Star player in a playoff series who has scored 0 points in a first half, and scored 30 points in a second half of the same game. Watching Curry in the second half was like watching a miracle. Thus I way, "Holy Curry!" with a slight nod in the direction of the Holy Universe. 

Missing a few of the bench from the first Dubs, this was the team that won the Championship against the Cavs in Cleveland in six. So let's not be overly surprised.

The Splash Brothers rule. Without Klay's first half, the Dubs lose.

Loony has discovered his "mean streak." I am totally stoked the way he's ripping the boards.

Draymond turns into the mythological dragon come playoffs.

Igudala, according to Coach Kerr, is the "the adult in the room."

The bench that has been mostly absent this season stepped up big time. Coach Kerr praised them and rightly so.

Perfect poem for Steph Curry

When I Got It Right   by Carl Lindner

The ball would lift
light as a wish,
gliding like a blessing
over the rim, pure,
or kissing off glass
into the skirt of net.
Once it began
I couldn't miss.
Even in the falling dark,
the ball, before it left
my hand. was sure

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