Conspicuously, a callous cacophony of caws attacked the catbird seat in Cleveland in an undeveloped October. The echoing report of the Korean's bat, the snap of a Cuban's second skin caused a venting of pent up disquietude through the fabric of fandom. Mute and indifferent interest replaced itself with ever-burgeoning hopeful derangement for a faith that had been quietly and antiseptically castigated over the perpetual bleakness of the past half-decade.
A murder of black clad fans, extended into an unfamiliar month, in their seats, watching in cautious passion as former expectations became unglued reluctantly, like the adhesive on a protective envelope being slowly peeled open to preserve the aesthetic value of its watchful nature, just in case it had to be used again, immediately, to oppress negative fervor in the event of a dull calamity of finality.
The hazy, heated glow of memories in a brisk autumn air, causes the effect of superstition and compares the past's future with the past's present despite their contrasting verisimilitudes. The murder of fans warm their digits on their collective and inflamed amnesia thinking, "If only we could…"…"It would be just like that…"…chasing the addiction of glory and self-reverence prior to the ever-accumulating joylessness of the unending winter months.
A lottery of physics, the way the ball bounces, in an insignificant display of mass hysteria or lament accompanies the fans into the future, the mood is fleeting as another year meets the billions before in their baffling grave, yet never dying in totality, just mutated and depleted. They lived in the now and now that the now is now over, now await the next now, throwing their eggs in one overflowing basket the size of the universe…their vast internal perception. Why?
The meaning in the meaninglessness electrifies the entropy of the vacuum. If there is but a momentary spark in the deadened electrons orbiting the nucleus, there is a worth in something simply positively happening infinitely. Perhaps in the radioactive decay of cognizance a second of solace can be found on this spinning fossil as we rollick in our magnificence and keep warm in the winter months ahead on a ticker tape parade of trolling through our whorishly sanitized United sister blogs.