We played today. It was cool and sunny, and the fields were in good shape. We had two games played in a round robin. That meant the game lasted for an hour, and was called when whichever team was the hometeam had their last at-bat before the hour was up. We won both games, beating the Noreasters and the Dragons. Round robin play also means that every time you took the plate, you were at one ball and one strike, so you needed only three more balls to walk, and two strikes to get out. I was at-bat seven times. Twice I hit the ball really nicely, getting on base both times, and getting an RBI one of those times. Three times I hit the ball not so well. Once I was tagged out, and the other two times I managed to get on base, the last time by one of my famous outrunning the ball. (I can fuckin' move!) Alas, twice I struck out. I've got to watch out for the pitcher for the Dragons. She pitches really fast and she tends to pitch flat. I don't have the self possession to step out of the batters box and break her rhythm. There are some amazing hitters on the Noreasters this year, too. Luckily, their pitching was sort of iffy today.
It was great. I don't hurt too bad. Just some muscle soreness and stiffness in the knees. My face feels sunburnt. It felt soooo wonderful. I really like the knew guys on the team, although the really hot new guy wasn't there today. Must remember to make some time after a game so we can hook up. If he's so inclined, I sure am.
I was planning on staying in tonight, but I think I'll head out on the town. Mebbe stop by the Spiegel. (I'm drawn there mostly by having seen the awesome spectacle of one of the players on their team walk from his car to the field with no shirt on. I was literally speechless.)
Also, a guy on my team who is a cop passed out PBA cards to us. These apparently come in handy when you're pulled over. If you're not an asshole, and if the cop who pulls you over is in a good mood, he or she might be inclined to let you go. Good to have. They are 'themed' cards. I picked a Yankees themed card, rather than a Mets or Giants themed cards. I asked my cop teammate if it would work if the officer that pulls me over is a Mets fan and I present a Yankees card. The reply: What do you think?
Then it was back to Ty's for beer (or in my case, that great beer-flavored soda known as O'Doul's as I was driving). I had to cut that short, as I had to get to GMSMA's Spirituality and S/M Special Interest Group. It was pretty great. After a flurry of email discussion, we concocted a ritual today. The ritual included two basic elements: disrobing each other, and then the use of the implements. Each of us brought an implement. They included floggers, paddles, a quirt, and leather straps. One of the floggers was mine. One by one, we would kneel before a table in the center where the implements were arranged, pick up the implement we had brought, kiss it, talk about it briefly, and then invite the other men to use it on us. After each man had take a turn, we asked if we could use it on each of them, and then made the round of the circle doing so. Interestingly, we were all (with one exception
Overall, a wonderful experience. Diabolique, our fearless leader, did a fantastic job of pulling it all together, German Shepherd that he is. Next month, he heads out to California for Black Leather Wings, a conflagration of Radical Faeries and kindred souls into S/M. I hope sincerely that the Universe favors him with utter annihilation and glorious rebirth and apotheosis. May he become a god in the wilderness of Northern California. May he be one with the Burning Sun and the Soothing Singing Moon, one with the Replenishing Rain, and one with the Terrible Thunder and the Devastating Wind.
I realized that I didn't learn anything from the group. Well, in a way I did. Usually, I come away with some knew skill, or at least some knew thing or set of things that I didn't know before. Such is not the case here. What I did come away with was a newfound connection and sense of the other men in the group. I suppose that's the point of ritual, not learning, but bringing together. There's nothing there that can be reduced to language. It's simply a matter of, "Yes, I know him" now being a phrase applicable to any of the other men in the group.
So now, I think I'll spend some time on Leather Navigator, walk the dog, and see if I feel up to heading in to the City for a trip to the Spiegel.
Oh. One other thing to mention. Diabolique and I went for coffee afterwards to an old haunt of mine, Lalita Java on East Third Street and Avenue B. When we emerged, the Catholic Church on Third between A and B was shrouded in a pretty rococo looking scaffolding. I mentioned to Diabolique that I had once heard that that steeple was the inspiration for the song by the Mamas and the Papas, 12:30... "I used to live in New York City. Everything there was dark and dirty. Outside my window was a steeple, with a clock that always said 12:30..." I told D. that soon, that song would be my song: "I used to live in New York City." He smiled, and said, "But what about the part that goes, 'the young girls come into the canyon'?"
"Easy," I said, "'...the young girls come down to the river. And in the morning I can hear them talkin'." And I continued, "'At first so strange to feel so friendly, to say Good Mornin' and really mean it.'"
I used to live in New York City.
A lot of things--but not everything there--were dark and dirty.
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