Distraction

Though it's causing me significant anxiety, the Cleveland-Red Sox game is again on in my living room. It's the bottom of the fifth, and Cleveland just scored the first run in a runless game, has two men on base and no outs. Two runs in, one out, still two men on base. I don't like this. At my parent's house, my mother has at this point surely left the room. She might possibly be saying the rosary. It's true, my mother prays for the Red Sox.

What can be said? Cleveland is fired up and solid. I drank a Guinness and have switched to scotch. Unfuckingbelievable. 3-0. This is why I don't like getting involved in these things. I start getting too invested, and of course it doesn't help that my family happen to be die-hard fans. They watch Yankees games just to see them lose. I don't take it that far. I simply want the Red Sox to win. It makes my parents really fucking happy, and that makes me happy. 6-0. This is not happening.

Time to change the subject. I'll be participating in this on Friday. My brother and his wife arranged to start this up in our town, so we can just zip over there after work and try to make a statement. I'm looking forward to it. (7-0. Just let it go.)

I still don't know the word, despite some helpful suggestions. (Youklis scores! 7-1.) (Ortiz scores! 7-2. How ridorkulous can I be? Sorry.) The word. Maybe it wasn't such a big deal. But I know it wasn't. I remember telling myself - yeah, just remember that word and you'll remember everything you're thinking about right now. Thoughts in the sleepy darkness are as fleeting as dreams, it seems.

It had something to do with forgiveness. It had something to do with sanctuary. (OMG Manny scores! 7-3! Zero outs!) It had something to do with nakedness. Exposure. Safety. Innocence. Truth. Expansion. It will come to me, again, in the dark, and I will turn on the light and remember it.

That's it. Time to pray for the Red Sox.