Aaaaah, eight hours of tennis. Now, it's Monday. The beginning of a new week. A day when, after a weekend of rest and relaxion, or wild drunken partying and illicit sex, one usually "gets back to work" either literally like my husband, or at least figuratively, um, I guess like me. As in, I don't go anywhere, but maybe I should do something, besides sit around and watch tennis all day- and mind you--all night long , too. Well, not all. But at least until midnight, when the internet miraculously leaves me, because Rick Rock had to install some software to make it so, because I was staying up until 3am waaaaaay too often and partying with old boyfriends and other people. Now, it's kind of cool that one can party with other people and not actually leave their house. Indeed, it's ideal for me. I love to party, I hate to leave my house. But anyway, it got out of hand. And I just seriously digressed.
Whoah. OK, so Monday, the first day of the week, is the day I choose to sit around watching tennis all day long. Now, there are lots of people doing this! For instance, the commenters on the Tennis Channel, the cameramen, the ballboys, the chair, many sports journalists, the people actually attending the event in Madrid and so on. And many of these people get paid to watch the event! And some others paid to go to the event! I, on the other hand, am not getting paid (not entirely true, I have made about 20 bucks or so- thank you people, for clicking on my ad thingy!) to watch tennis all day long, nor did I pay any money to watch it all day long (as in, I am not there, which is "special" as opposed to being here, at home watching TV, which is not special, although I do pay extra bucks to get the Tennis Channel). So why does it feel sort of wierd and useless? Because I'm not getting paid? Because I am not there? Why, yes. Those would be two reasons. And I'm sure there are more reasons. I was trying to write my way into understanding what some deeper, more esoteric reasons there could be, but I've come up with nothing. Maybe that is it, that "nothing" is the deeper more esoteric reason. There is something very, just, you know, living in a void of inactivity and mindlessness and the whole world is a speck of dust on the finger of a cold universe but if I pretend that tennis matters, that it really does matter who wins and how they play, and damn, look how good they are at this beautiful sport, than I can block out all that existential thought and yet, it also seems to be reinforcing the void of meaning of life because I'm sitting here doing nothing with my life but blogging, and oh wait, blogging IS something, blogging is reaching out to the world of tennistards and saying hi and aknowledging the existence of other human beings in the universe and touching them with words which could maybe lead to other kinds of touching! But I digress.
Also, I did go to the bookstore and pick up some stuff, so that is something. I just left the TV on because it's a lot of tennis to watch. In fact, I may do that special trick I do, which is to watch it on fast forward.
Anderson took the second set and now they are on serve in the third. I want Melzer to win for a few reasons- One, he is the old guy. Sometimes I root for the old guy, because he has less career time. Sometimes I root for the up and comer, because its exciting to have new blood in the game. Two- He's Austrian. I'm a full half Austrian. Go Austria. Sometimes I don't root for Austrians because, well, I'm sort of ashamed of being half Austrian because of WW2 and shit. And Three--he's waaaaay hotter than Anderson. That said, I would not have sex with Melzer, as it would be way too much like having sex with my Austrian cousin, who I did not have sex with when I was fifteen and he was seventeen and we got drunk and wrestled and it was totally erotic and I thought he might have been, um, aroused, and I think we were listening to Prince and Frank Zappa and chain smoking and talking about deep thoughts on our crazyass families.
Yours Truly,
Paula
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