Andrew Statum

My level of consciousness had just hit zero. With one out in the top of the ninth, Shawn Green hit what looked to be a one out grounder to the Phillies' shortstop Jimmie Rollins, thus allowing Endy Chavez, that most underappreciated of outfielders, to trot home from third and tie the game at three, staving off the Mets' fourth straight loss and keeping their lead in the NL East at four games over the Phillies who were surging in the Wins column. For five or so seconds, I was ecstatic. And then I was devastated. Second-base umpire C.B. Buckner called Marlon Anderson for interference for running outside the base lines before crashing into Phillies' second baseman Tadahito Iguchi and awarded the out at first to the Phillies, thus ending the game and moving the Phillies to a mere three games back in the NL East.

3:09. I feel awful. Dried out. Heavy. Tired. Dizzy. Walking wounded. A "bog monster" I think is how Kerouac put it. Waste of a day. Got up at 10. Had a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. Though what I really wanted was a sausage egg and cheese sandwich dripping in grease. But I blew my cash last night and there's not an ATM in throwing distance and nobody takes credit cards in this godforsaken part of Kings County.

I am stuffed with sushi. A small reward after a good evening run. The weather was perfect for it. My whites are in the laundry in preparation for Natasha's arrival tomorrow. One's clothing and one's bed linens can't be too scrubbed when one's significant other flies in from out-of-town. There's nothing like the love of a good woman for the cleaning-up of one's act. Otherwise I would have happily spent another night on soiled sheets. I am deliciously heavy with postprandial drowse and there's a good chance I'll get to see Springsteen and the E Street Band at the Garden in October (even if "Radio Nowhere" blows ass, I'll still pump my fist to "Badlands" and weep with the Jersey meatheads on "Thunder Road"). I am content. Everything is right. It could not be otherwise. I am a Zen master at peace with the world.

It’s Friday night and I have no life. Might as well blog.

This last Wednesday I went and saw Steve Earle at Town Hall and for thirty minutes or so, it was incredible. He opened up with a Dylan cover and moved smoothly through his not insubstantial set of hits and everyone was happy. But then (By the way, a bunch of Mennonite women wearing Mets jerseys in the upper deck at Shea just found out they’re on TV and they’re going ape shit. One of them’s on a cell phone – I’m assuming whomever she’s talking to is telling her she’s on TV – and then she starts hollering at the others and then they go nuts, bouncing around and pointing at a camera somewhere. Man, what a country.) he starts playing all this weird stuff from his new album that involves him with his guitar and harmonica and some guy pushing the buttons on a synthesized drum kit. So its basically him and a computer on stage. What?

This is gonna be a real bona fide consciousness report because i'm not going to revise what i write and im not going to censor though i don't think i'll plop down everything that comes to mind, for the sake of decency. think of the children!

Speaking of nostalgia, I went to a wedding this weekend.

So there I am, one of what must have been thousands of race fans posted along the curb a few strides after mile marker 24 in Central Park on Sunday afternoon, scanning the river of runners going by for the familiar faces of our loved ones. Mine, I knew, was wearing orange. This was Natasha's first marathon and, as she's from Florida, she decided to wear a Florida Gators running shirt - orange with blue trim. My camera was on the "burst" setting and I was poised to strike. How could I miss her? Surely, with an orange shirt and red hair, she'd stick out like a sore thumb.

All this talk of sleep problems last time got me thinking about my own sleep and dream issues which, I think, are intimately linked. In part, I think dreams are the brain's way of sorting through, and explaining to itself, the intra- and extracorporeal phenomena it is picking up while asleep (I don't know if those are real words but I like the way they look).