Cremorial Day

While it's not quite Memorial Day, this Friday that is nearly completed was, for myself and some others Cremorial Day. I suppose that is not so apt as we were not the ones cremated but, rather, we witnessed a service devoted to one who had been. And while her husband was not an American veteran of World War II, he had fought for the Britons. After that lengthy explanation of my struggle for a title I've completely forgotten what it is I intended to talk about. Presumably little, as always.

In fact, this past weekend an old teammate and I suppose I could say chum of mine told me that he reads this here blog of mine on occasion without enjoyment. I asked him, then, why he read it, and if he did have an answer—which I contend he did not—I will admit I may have been too soused to recollect it.

In my life I have seen precious few celebrities in the flesh, but after this past Monday evening I have now had occasion to see one celeb (I cringe at that abbreviation) twice. The man in question is Jesse Eisenberg of Social Network and other fame. That he is the same age as me and grew up in a neighboring town are some very loose connections, but now I have seen him twice. Time the first he was accompanied by two dudes and was walking by Chicago's Second City stages and training center building. Time the second he was near Times Square, walking his bike—which appeared to be a brand most average at best—then riding it for less than a block, before dismounting again to rendezvous with a woman I presume is his girlfriend. His posture and manner of movement is much like the characters he often portrays: gloomy, sullen, and hurried all at once. And though his posture remained bent when he met his presumable girlfriend, a smile breached his face (and, I should note, once again a hat adorned his head). Granted this was New York, and I am sure many are used to seeing many celebrities but I couldn't help but appreciate that he flew under everyone's radar and the regular-guyishness he exuded in both instances. Dare I say this is success without fame? And yet, he is famous, so perhaps notoriety is the word I seek.

At any rate I shall wonder if the cosmic crossing of young Eisenberg and myself shall continue and when, if ever, I may annoy him with brief verbal acknowledgment. Cosmic is probably an overstatement, but I can't help but have fun looking for signs and the connections in things. Call it the failed and cynical AP English student in me finally deciding that kind of shit, while contrived, can be good times. Let's take that a recent reader here was from Malvern of all places. There are ~28,000 people that live there and this internet user conducted a standard google search for something perhaps a bit obscure, which I happen to have somewhat addressed in a post here just a few weeks back (three fortnights to get more British sounding). The date of the posting and its connection to my own birth which was, in turn, from the body of an individual whose own birth took place in this very town in England, well, actually that doesn't really mean much. And those sentences were vague enough that even I might not know what I mean when I go back to read that.

After all that nonsense, I'd like to give a shout-out to my alma mater. The pleasures of Wadsworth forest continue to be exquisite, as does the quality of the Freeman Shower (though I am sad the soap smells better now), and of course it allows for me to fully embrace my inner asshat and know that few will judge and so very many will embrace. Cheers to the old 'Tech and all of those whom I have known and loved in my time there and since.