Maybe I'll go to Lucky Bar...lord knows, we'll need luck to win this one. I'll probably just watch and weep at home.
I believe in sharing the pain, too. Only, I fear that I will be inflicting pain on others these days. Hence, I'll be petting my cat and dog, taking the sedatives, drinking the alcohol, and ready to pop on the X-Men DVD at a moments notice. I was, literally, a dangerous person after last week's debacle. Tim
I'll watch it out of the house, but much nearer to home. I'll probably be at the Marx Cafe in Mount Pleasant (3203 Mount Pleasant St., NW, DC). They likely won't have the volume on, but that's probably for the best.
I'll be at Summers. 1) It's two blocks from my office, 2) Alcohol is readily available. 3) I can't not watch. This is my team, come what may.
The Hollow Team ABMOD is nothing but an errand boy, sent by grocery clerks to collect on a bill. I We are the hollow team We are the sorry team Leaning together Jersey filled with straw. Alas! Our weak passes, when We play together Are soft and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats' feet over broken glass In our dry cellar Shape without form, skill without fitness, Paralysed force, gesture without motion; Those who have crossed While scoring goals, to death's other Kingdom Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost Violent players, but only As the hollow team. The stuffed team. II Eyes I dare not meet in dreams In death's dream stadium These do not appear: There, the beer is Skunked in a broken bottle There, is a sad section And voices are In the wind's singing More distant and more solemn Than a fading star. Let me be no nearer In death's dream stadium Let me also wear Such deliberate disguises Rat's coat, paper sack on head, crossed staves In a field Behaving as the wind behaves No nearer -- Not that final meeting In the twilight stadium III This is the dead stadium This is cactus stadium Here the stone images Are raised, here they receive The supplication of a sad fan's hand In the shade of a fading banner. Is it like this In death's other stadium Waking alone At the hour when we are Trembling with tenderness Lips that would cheer Form prayers to fading banners. IV The strikers are not here There are no strikers here In this valley of dying stars In this hollow valley This broken jaw of our lost stadium In this last of meeting places We grope together And avoid speech Gathered on this beach of the Anacostia Sightless, unless The strikers reappear As the perpetual star Goal-hungry hero Of death's twilight stadium The hope only Of empty fans. V Here we go round the lager keg Lager keg lager keg Here we go round the lager keg At seven o'clock in the evening. Between the idea And the goal Between the motion And the score Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom Between the conception And the victory Between the emotion And the celebration Falls the Shadow Life is very long Between the desire And the shot Between the penalty And the goal Between the titles And the descent Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom For Thine is Life is For Thine is the This is the way the season ends This is the way the season ends This is the way the season ends Not with a bang but a whimper.
Cool place! I went there for the first time last week to join Revelation for happy hour. I like Jever beer.... I'll be out playing soccer, so I'll catch the game later on tape.
Ed the Red - That is a thing of beauty! Not only is TS Eliot my favorite poet of all time, but your rendition of Hollow Men is very appropriate. It looks like the G Rex, et al, may have some serious competition for Poet Lauriate of the DC United Boards! Good show! Atouk, at least you'll be drinking good beer... :sigh:
Not too packed, but the folks who were there were vocal. Have no idea what the BS names are of most of the folks who attended, but I know that Victory and K were there. (Didn't help that we were contained in the front part of the lounge - the area near the bar was used by people watching the Virginia Tech game. We pretty much filled up our section, though.) An result that we sorely needed - we live to fight another day. And Nick Rimando is the man.