Damn, I cannot believe Opening Day is only 12 days away!
No, kidding. But you know what? A paht of me is sad to see the close of the post World Series honeymoon.
Yeah, once that first pitch is thrown in April, the 2004 season will officially be relegated to the past.
We'll no longah be in the moment but can only recollect the moment.
A la recherche dutemps perdu.
It is a labour in vain to attempt to recapture it: all the efforts of our intellect must prove futile.
The past is hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of intellect, in some material object (in the sensation which that material object will give us) which we do not suspect. And as for that object, it depends on chance whether we come upon it or not before we ourselves must die.
And suddenly the memory returns. The taste was that of the little crumb of hotdog from a Sunday afternoon at Fenway …
My apologies for going all Proust on your asses. I probably lost half the readership today.
If you're a fan of Proust's Title you'll note that final four frames are lifted from the "madeleine" part, but in the final frame the madeleine cake has been replaced by a hotdog and the village Comray swapped out for Fenway to make it more fitting to our time and space.
If you've never read the novel or read it long ago and would like to would like to see what all the fuss is about or refresh your memory but don't feel like being burdened with 7.2 pounds (according to Amazon) of text (it's one long fuck of a book), then I highly recommend the "graphic novel" version: Remembrance of Things Past : Combray (Graphic Novel)