The Padre has been noticeably absent in these parts for a while, and here’s why.
For one thing, when I started writing here I focused mostly on music, and I only get music from a couple of sources, so it makes that writing get kind of old. Do you care if I’m on a Pearl Jam kick right now? Probably not. I don’t have anything to introduce you to that you can’t get from RSS feeds to Stereogum and Paste, and frankly I don’t care about music the way I used to, so whatever.
Another reason is Twitter. Not that I’ve been on it much (though you can find me there if you really want), but in my research about it (for work) and my discussions with Pax about it, I’ve gotten depressed. It’s made me rethink this whole web presence thing. Not to be a Fallen Angel-like nonconformist, but everything online eventually becomes marketing-driven, and it gets kind of depressing. The idea of being in touch with celebrities or public personalities that you really like it cool. I was probably too excited to receive a Tweet from Tas Melas of The Basketball Jones last week, for example. But for the most part it’s companies pushing their products on people and expanding their “web presence.” It’s exhausting to try to keep up with. I don’t mean to sound like that old hag from the NY Times that Pax hates, but there’s not a lot of soul to it, it seems.
Then this morning in our group meeting, someone asked me if I fished this weekend (which I did, and will talk about in a bit), and I was briefly bummed to answer the question, because I had planned on writing about it here, and I felt like that spoiled it. The fact that that bummed me out…bums me out. How ridiculous that telling people about my weekend was disappointing because it in some way spoiled a post I might write on a friend’s blog that’s read by people either of us knows and a few people who stumble upon it while Googling for zombie pictures.
I also always thought that personal blogging is kind of stupid. Do any of you care what I did this weekend? Do I have anything to say about it that is worth reading? Not sure. But I am sure that my attempts at doing Pax-like posts come up short, namely because I’m not as funny as he is (in print anyway; I joke circles around him in person) and I’m also not as good of a writer.
The whole thing is kind of depressing. Maybe this is all a waste of time. But fuck that, I’m going old-school and just writing about myself anyway. I’m gonna express myself all up in this bitch. Besides, how else would Perry Ellis keep up with me?
Anyway, here’s 1000 words about fishing and Fenway.
This weekend I drove to Natick to fish Dug Pond. The whole excursion was interesting, namely because I had never fished by myself. Despite being from Maine, and around these parts being something of a bumpkin, among my family I’m considered a city boy because I don’t hunt and went to college or something. But lately I’ve been wanting to get outside more, have some time to myself (the throngs of naked women get really exhausting) and away from a screen. (I’m not about to quit my job and move into the woods or anything; I still heart information and entertainment. I just need alternatives to my computer.)
Anyway, I got my fishing license last week to go along with birthday tidings of a tackle box and rod (box and rod…nice). I found out about Dug Pond through a friend of my Dad’s who lives around here and said it was a good place to fish if you don’t have a boat.
I got there around 10:00, parking in a random lot on the side of the road. There were bodies of water on both sides of me, with Lake Cochituate being the other. There were no easy points of access, so I crossed the street and looked around Dug Pond. A couple of guys had staked out certain spots and, not knowing etiquette, I wanted to give them plenty of space. (I found out later that it’s fine to fish near people as long as you don’t impede them at all.)
I walked through some woods that had pink ribbons identifying a trail, and found a spot I could cast from in a small inlet in the lake. It was a really mossy, clogged-up kind of area with trees hanging over and sticks and leaves in the water. I saw a frog sitting under the tree, and some mosquito eggs were hatching on the water surface. Seemed like a good place.
I used a soft-plastic bright yellow frog lure, which didn’t get tangled up too much. After probably two dozen or so unsuccessful casts, I changed lures, but it didn’t do too much for me, except catch a lot of reeds and algae. Anything that sank was a disaster — the water was shallow and as I said, quite crowded with debris. I ended up back with the frog, but had no luck. I did see a turtle swim by, which was fun.
I got frustrated in that spot due to the difficulty of casting and walked back up the path to see if either of the guys I had seen left. One had, so I moved my gear and took his spot. It was a much clearer cast and I got more distance. It also allowed me to use some other lures. I tried probably my fanciest (no one really expects me to do this long, I don’t think, so most of my lures just came with the tackle box or were castoffs from my brother), a small (maybe three-inches) Rapala rainbow lure.
A half-dozen casts or so and I got a bite. It had been probably about eight years since I had caught a fish, but I instantly recognized the familiar wiggle at the end of the rod — and all the excitement caused — from the repetitive tug I had already experienced by catching various debris all day. But since it had been so long, I forgot how to actually catch the thing, and my tug of the rod came at the wrong time, as the fish slipped off. I did get a glimpse of him because he was close to the surface, so as I tried to hook him he came out of the water. He was probably six-to-eight inches, mostly a deep green color. Probably a bass according to my fishing peeps.
After about a half-hour of casting the same region to try to get him again (you mean he actually learned not to bite the thing that stabbed him a few minutes before?), I moved over 20 feet or so and tried a few different lures in a different part along the shore where I was. I saw a fish jump a couple of times, eating bugs off the surface. The rings he created were pretty small, but obviously I still wanted to see what I could do. I tossed a daredevil (apparently it’s a popular lure; about an inch long, red and white on top and a shiny silver underneath) a few feet from the ring and just as it hit the surface I felt a tug. Again I tried to hook him, but no luck — he slipped away.
I casted again and again for another 20 minutes or so before deciding to pack up. I didn’t catch anything, but it was a great success — two hours of mostly silence, except for when my line got tangled and I called my Dad to find out how to fix it (basically, unscrew the reel and see if you can untangle the thread, which I did, luckily, cause I wouldn’t have remembered how to retie it if I had to cut it off). It wasn’t like I was philosophizing or anything, and that was the best part. My mind races a lot, and I process so much information a day that it was nice to just not think for a while.
I spent the rest of the weekend mostly watching sports, including the Indians/Yankees blowout (so entertaining), Celts losing game 1 (heartbreaking), and the Celts winning game 2 (the highlight being a text I received during the game: “Noah is a weasel penis”). There are plenty of places you can read more about all that.
I did take the day off and go to Fenway yesterday for the Patriots Day game with my mom and my brother, and it was great. It was about 12 below zero (some exaggeration) and windy, but still a blast as the Sox piled on runs. Great fielding by Pedroia and Nick Green. Four Kenyans completed the Marathon in the time it took Papi to run out a triple. Masterson was in control and the Orioles are terrible. It was a great time.
But there was one and only one important thing I took from the game. Nick Green, who from now on shall be known as Straight Thuggin’ Nick Green, walks up to the plate with this music playing.