Poetry and Pork Roast

I accidentally spotted two to three minutes of the NBA All-Star Game, good thing I was sitting down. One of my fellow wags on Twitter mused if we just couldn’t get rid of them (all star games) in every sport altogether. I wanted to protest that Hockey has had a few good ones and Baseball lends itself to a glorified pick up game, but I remembered the only Hockey game I could really cite was the All Star game in Buffalo and that was 35 years ago. So, I did the untwitter like thing and just shut up.

Got the call to work the Sabres and Penguins game today, and got the fuzzy end of the usher lollypop; checking tickets at the 200 level. To do this, you are closer to the door of a stairwell and bathroom than any tv or ice rink. So I spent the bulk of the game listening to the crowd as it sounded like something interesting might have transpired twenty feet away, but I was a glorified hall monitor. I chalk it up to a little dues paying. The upside is that you get to skate out early.  That allowed me to ride out with a friend to catch Poetry Night at the Woodlawn Diner. Not being one to suffer fools or pretention gladly, I was excited for this jaunt. Comfort food done with some care is an underrated commodity and the verse was a nice and different addition. A number of voices that spurred something in the imagination. It’s a small little place that makes you make some new friends as everybody just takes a seat whereever. Fun experience, especially to hear how others are having fun with words. Makes me forget the pronoun trouble I sometimes run into during my workaday wordsmithing.

Speaking of new voices and wordplay, I’m liking these folks a lot.

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