Tagged: W. B. Yeats

Ready to (All-Star) Break

Hello again and welcome back.  Since I last checked in there has been a flurry of activity on the field, with myself getting quite a lot of work, the ending of the season’s first half and consequently the beginning of the second, and a ridiculous game last night that went 15 innings and included three scoreless innings by RockHound position players.  I have always felt like position players should all get a chance to pitch once in a while so they know how hard it is, but we had two position players combine for three innings of one hit baseball, picking up both the win and a save and quite frankly made it look easy.  So much for that thought I guess.  I myself have been throwing a lot lately, which I really like.  My arm always feels better the more I throw and when I’m getting into games my delivery tends to be more consistent so that has been a definite positive.  My results have been up and down a bit, however.  I’ve had my fair share of good outings, but I’ve also had a pretty rough one and then last night’s outing which makes me wonder if I sleepwalked under a ladder, through a black cat sanctuary and crashed into a mirror.  Just couldn’t buy a break in any form and ended up giving up a run, which happens but doesn’t make it any less frustrating.  Anyway, I’m pretty happy with how things have been going lately and with the all-star break starting tomorrow, hopefully I can finish off strong if I throw today and come back refreshed after the break.


Speaking of the all-star break, I have been eagerly awaiting it for a couple weeks now.  My fiancÚ will be coming into town and it will be the first time I’ve seen her in almost two months so that obviously is a major selling point.  Also, we will be taking the two days to make the three hour drive out to New Mexico to take in Carlsbad Caverns National Park.  We’re going to do some back country camping the first night and then spend the next day taking in the caves and seeing the bats fly out at the end of the day before heading back to good old Midland.  Other than eagerly awaiting the all-star break, I’ve spent most of my recent down time being a vegetable playing Civilizations IV and dabbling at some painting.  Since I’m not that great at it, painting can get a little infuriating at times, but on the whole I find it really enjoyable so I’ll keep at it and update you on the outcome.  Anyhow, I’ll call that good for now and leave you with the customary poem.


Sailing to Byzantium

by W. B. Yeats


That is no country for old men. The young

In one another’s arms, birds in the trees

–Those dying generations–at their song,

The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,

Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long

Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.

Caught in that sensual music all neglect

Monuments of unageing intellect.


An aged man is but a paltry thing,

A tattered coat upon a stick, unless

Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing

For every tatter in its mortal dress,

Nor is there singing school but studying

Monuments of its own magnificence;

And therefore I have sailed the seas and come

To the holy city of Byzantium.


O sages standing in God’s holy fire

As in the gold mosaic of a wall,

Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,

And be the singing-masters of my soul.

Consume my heart away; sick with desire

And fastened to a dying animal

It knows not what it is; and gather me

Into the artifice of eternity.


Once out of nature I shall never take

My bodily form from any natural thing,

But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make

Of hammered gold and gold enamelling

To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;

Or set upon a golden bough to sing

To lords and ladies of Byzantium

Of what is past, or passing, or to come.