jpaulgorman

  Rant some more, this is our debacle.  Talk to the wall, reason means nothing.  Teaching us a lesson.  Shouting us down.  Let's move on. I'm okay, you're okay, okay or not, either way, it's okay  That's right, we'll be a'okay.  It's okay to be okay, and it's okay to not be okay, too.  Okay has its boundaries, okay.  Okee Doke. We're flying above, it's only a few bucks.  Money's not hard.  Get a job where there's more pay and you're okay.  Come on in here boy, have a cigar, you're gonna go far.  By the way, which one's Pink?

  Squirm worms, they wanna make you go "Eww."  But they got some value, too, think of the earth they slip through.  The grubs they eat, or is it the other way around.  Soil wars of the dirty kind.  In the mud. The predictable logic of the pigmenters.  Stir that racial spoon, all you high tech lynchers, following their old white man leader.  Fred and Barney were cancelled long ago, no more gay ole times for them, and cave people times must have been full of boredom.  Even looking at stars gets old, but I'm projecting, they probably had games with sticks or coconuts, but I'm projecting, they likely skipped breakfast.  Morning was for hunting and gathering. Berries, peaches, seafood was big, but doubt if oysters were eaten upon initial human discovery.  Or snails.  Guess they saw the animals eat each other and it was eat or be eaten.  No wonder we don't eat cats.  Cows make sense.

  This chatter of chats and bits and rot and bots, designed to fill the glow waves with rubbish.  Clarity still has its place.  Rationally is the opposite of foolishly.  However, what is foolish can be rational, and what is rational can be foolish.  A paradox.  Any thinking person takes the blindfold off, and thinks. Any thinking person takes out the ear plugs to hear better, we feel right and wrong, instinctively.  We got good guts.  A thoughtful perspective, without the cancel cares of woe is me and monetization freeze frames.  Intrusiveness is a certain kind of feeling, no one likes being an imposition.  The shallow have no room left, free'r living in the deep. To think is not to be right, it's only to think.  What might be or become, or where we were or where we're going.  It's a constant state of movement and possibilities, imaginations and senses of humor.  Only a few in the deep make much of effort to listen befor...

  The awful, awful white men I've known.  That slobbering, stuttering, spitting JV football coach, for one.  I blame him for my elbow dislocation in the 80s.  Dumb idiot, he didn't know nothing about history, either.  Told us The Great Society was great. Anyway, the list goes on and on, those damn white men.  That one who almost intentionally ran over my pregnant wife.  That other one, Italian I think, who wouldn't honor his daily special coupon at Paseano's in Plano, Texas.  Then the one who tried to run my pastor off, Germans are so confrontational, babies when they don't get their way, demons when they do.  Worst white man in history came from there.  Bono seems overrated, The Edge is the true glue of U2.  John McEnroe is a brat, Larry Bird can't jump, and Paul McCartney writes nothing but silly love songs.  All, white men.  About time we get to have our say, throw some shade.  Bring the white to light. ...

Valentine's is gone. Ride that love wave to spring. Never meant to do you wrong. Was just doing my thing. You captured my heart. A long, long time ago. Figure we'll never grow apart. Floating on our own love boat. We're passing over now. Ferry 5, it took some time. I'd wait as long as it took for you. Port Aransas on my mind. Eating fish from the sea. Drinking wine from the vines. We all brought books to read. Wake Lily up by 9. Play that music low. Something nice and smooth. Jazz from the 50's or so. Abby thinks it's cool.

  Never replace what super glue can fix.

  When officials begin talking about spaceships and aliens, believe none of it.  It's a scam, a diversion, a call out to the hysterical.  Next, it'll be air quality and solar flares, go inside everybody.  Then comes the harmful sound decibels, grab your muffs.  Hear no evil. Pay little attention, the babbling words of nothing continues.  The easy life of observation, it's in your head, take up for yourself, keep your peace, they don't deserve it.  Rock it out if you have to, punk the pushers, destroy all the stratocasters and telecasters, get that high tone reverbed feedback.  Say anything.  These are cardboard people. The serious are seriously living, knowing each heartbeat is a true miracle, knowing life doesn't last, looking forward with hope to what's next.  Days, seasons, years, let them transpire without any narration but your own.  You are witnessing exactly what you are witnessing-- our American Pie is nothing but a mess o...

  The scheduling couldn't be better, by the time the Super Bowl began, I was exhausted.  Wu had just beat Isner in the Sunday Dallas Open singles final and I was riveted, it was like military tennis as someone put it:  rockets, bombs, whips, whops, giants, Chinese, Americans, laser beam line calling, offensives, defensives.  All 3 sets were tiebreakers, each player held numerous championship points.  Finally, Wu found the mid pace angle shots and Isner failed in the end, his crumpled miss at the net on one of his match points will likely haunt him a bit.  It was right there, he was just too tall. Once again, the local tournament launched the tennis year big and bold.  Forget France, ignore Argentina, Dallas is where we got down to it.  The JD Miles piece about the cancer smashing ball boy was the best journalism of the tournament, the VIP Lounge is a waste of space, and Uomosport research indicates pickleballers are cheaper than tennis players....

  The quick turnaround from a boozy Thursday night to a late breakfast meeting at Cafe Brazil was almost too much.  Obviously, I always stay below the .06 alcohol line, just to be safe, so the previous evening's drive home was smooth, curb to curb for my gals.  Nothing would ruin my mind more than a rookie, late night traffic cop asking me to recite the alphabet backwards--stay moderate, my friends, be in touch with your blood.  However, the Wolf/Tiafoe match was at noon, it was time to get down.  The delicious empanada breakfast hit right on, the Vantaggios were fed, caffeined, and grooved, ready for Quarterfinal Friday at the Dallas Open. Think of the mid to late 80s tennis team of McKinney High School with a Berkner soccer punk thrown in when you think of the Vantaggios.  The tennis underground, the Kings Of The Courts, flashing modern fabrics and colors that pop, in it for the Grand Slams, in it for all peace loving tennis peoples:  the grassers, ...

  By Thursday, most of the ATP riff raff is gone, anybody below a ranking of 100 or better is rare in the Quarterfinals.  Holt, out, Rybakov, out.  There are layers of talent on the tour, the top 3 has been Novak, Nadal, and Federer for the good part of two decades, an historical anomaly, but 64 Grand Slam tournament victories between them left little room for anyone else.  A few broke through--Andy Murray, Wawrinka, and Del Po--but none dominated.  No American took the court for a singles final during that time, but with the Californian Taylor Fritz, maybe we got a chance at one. Fritz was playing Jack Sock at 7 and I had my family with me for the session.  Located in the swankiest part of Dallas, in Highland Park, the Styslinger Tennis Complex served as a fine host location once again.  My wife grew up around there and told stories as we walked from our street parking spot, Hillcrest and Mockingbird was her 1970's biking boundaries; my daughters wer...

  Going in hard on airline service fees and burger joint talent wars.  "Look it up!  Look it up!"  You look it up, thief.  We definitely have a public health emergency.  "It matters!  It matters!" Can't keep the racial spoon out of his mouth, the goat high tech lyncher himself.  Pigment made the man.  And plugs, of course.  Nothing but the balloon bafoon sucking on his teeth.  End this speech, we are in an altered state, diminished and groggy. There is no hope in the capital city, we got nothing but lip singers and fakes.  Hollow shells of dust.  Paper kitties.  "Name me one!  Name me one!"  As the generals and judges sulk and frown on the front row.

  Texas 118 going south from Alpine to Terlingua was foreign road, I'd previously only been on River Road or 385 from Marathon.  This was new and I wanted to take my time, I wanted to see the spots, hike the mountains, drink a beer at a roadhouse bar, walk around the Cactus farm, but it was mid morning, and I was on a mission to golf at Black Jack's Crossing in the border town of Lajitas, Texas.  I'd visited the place before, but never played, even met the mayor once.  It looked out of place, but perfectly sculpted into the barren, beautiful, busy land.  Evidently, you can bust one into Mexico from one of their tee boxes, if you hit it clean. The day was incredible with massive skylines, huge fields of clouds, like upside down rows of cotten that went on and on into the horizon.  The course was practically empty, the cost was $295, I had two cold Modelos wrapped in koozies, stashed.  Nothing could make that Sunday go slow enough.  To describe the...

  As I walked up to the 2023 version of the Dallas Open, I was curious about the improvements from the inaugural tournament the year before.  Immediately, I cashed in on a free hat from BMW, all it took was a 2 minute survey regarding electric cars.  Last year, I got a lame water bottle for similar feedback .  This hat had the DO logo, was adjustable, and seemed like something I would wear.  The Monday noon session would allow me plenty of time to browse around, experience the layout, and watch professional men's tennis at our very own ATP 250 event. Much had changed: the hospitality area was on the south end, hawk eye was now installed on the grandstand court, and the local residents seemed a bit more cool with the outsider parking.  I checked in on the Uomosport Apparel folks, they had new seasonal colors, the company model was also selling the goods, and their man ( uomo in Italian), Jenson Brooksby, was out with a wrist unjury.  I made my yearly...

  As I was saying, it's nice to know a few folks if you're on the road, out and about, traveling and discovering, especially if you're alone.  Humans were made for roots, deep and shallow, connections are hard to avoid, they become part of the excursions.  Earlier in the year, Viva Big Bend times, it was determined and declared by my main Alpine connection and friend, Barry, that he wanted to start a band called Cool Arrows.  I liked the name right off, and invited myself to join.  I'd written 4 to 5 tunes for the project, I'd serve as producer and sound engineer; I'd connect with Barry and his wife, Sara, when I got to town, I was prepared to make it happen, someone's got to push the project from idea to drop. I had no studio, we had nothing nailed down or lined up, no songs, no additional players, no rehearsals, it was unclear if they were even going to be in town, last I'd heard from Barry, weeks prior, they could be stuck in Houston because Sara had...