Out of Right Field

I wanted to write about this twenty-four hours ago while I was sipping Colombian coffee and nibbling Colombian candy somewhere around Lincoln and Southport.  I was there killing some time and to kill more of it, I had the HipsterBook out and fired up planning to get a little lost in words, but time disappeared again and I headed north and then eventually back south again in a series of events that would require more punctuation.

I had wanted to write about the new Monstrosity that is being constructed in the right field bleachers at Wrigley--a sort of high-rollers clubs complete with an 80 foot LED screen.  Aimlessly killing time driving around the city with my cell phone recharging lead to me suddenly driving south on Sheffield. I couldn't hardly see anything from the tiny Cobalt I was hunched over in.  There were some nets up to catch debris, but I could see no Monstrosity.  Not from behind it, not from the street.

"It's just as well," I told myself.  "My blood is twitching with caffeine now and I don't need something to anger me."  I'm promising myself to not ramble on and on about more socioeconomic matters that I know very little about, but as every year passes under this new Tea Party-sipping regime, the less conducive Wrigley becomes for anyone below upper-middle class.

Not so much rambling, not so much rambling.  Okay, I promise.  Not really but for now.  I can feel my momentum waning.  I was all filled with it yesterday.  More caffeine!  I'm very tired and I may be ignoring the fact that I'm coming down with something in my lungs.  This wheeze has lasted a good sixteen hours.

I've yet to see any live feeds from Mesa, and I've only read a little article that talked about Sveum creating a bunting competition.  Good.  Work on fundamentals while I stalk my cage and uncontrollably vibrate my leg.  Maybe too much coffee?  Lies.  Never enough.  You can smell Spring.  It's cruel, this Winter we've had.  It's been dropping hints and scents of Spring from the beginning.  I stay up until the sun is peaking out over the horizon and the birds are still here and they are singing and they are happy and I wake up and the sky is bright but it's snowing and the thermometer says it's 38 and there is too much noise in the house at this hour to hear whether or not the birds are awake or sleeping.