Weeks 11 & 12: Thanksgiving/Home

There is plenty for me to give thanks for. There is plenty I want – and that is more interesting for now. I used to love rap. Now I like it fine I guess, I think I just really understand the fellas. I want the money, how I want it. I want the money for cars and for a boat. I want it for a loft with a moat. I want the money in order to finally get over a girl, just so I can give it all back to her. I want to spend recklessly. I want good seats to a thing, could be anything, just good seats for it.

Last night on Thanksgiving when the Ravens beat the 49ers, the Harbaugh brothers faced off. I wish “faced-off” were a known phrase defined as so: “to surgically swap faces with another man (preferably a nemesis) and fuck the wife of that man wearing his face on, while he fucks your wife with your face that is connected with his body, now.”

Anyway, I watched some football last night, a great game truly, ate some food with the family, then my kid brother and I, we faced off – in a more classic definition of the term – in a basketball game. Also he isn’t married yet. What he is though is awesome now, not only because he is the starting point guard on the varsity team, but because he is referee for youth games here in town, so he has keys to various gyms. Last night, he opened a gym for us. We smacked on the lights, took out a leather ball, laced up and played. He is very, very good so there wasn’t much competition. The games ended and before we left he lowered the rims so that we could dunk. Us two bro’s we went nuts in there, all sorts of echoes, pretending to be taller than we are, dunking, hanging, laughing all on those poor orange rims. In the quiet that is a suburban Thanksgiving Thursday night, we insulated ourselves on the hardwood under the lights and had a blast.

Part of the reason writing about sports is so great for now, is because I remember playing (obviously at a much lower level, but inside me, the competition was grand stand nonetheless). I write something each week because it is a release from the nonsensically tight grip I maintain on that subway pole – it is a reminder of the purely physical narrative that constitutes much of my youth – a stark contrast from the sedentary life of an adult man in a city where money gets made on screens. I have plenty to give thanks for. My good brother who is all but my size now, my sweet mother who cooks up like a Churchill speech, and my friends who while scattered across the globe always come back home to give a hug and kiss. I’m thankful for my wants too, and that they don’t include still being good at basketball, because that is not my ticket to a moat boat.