horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (leandro gets a handful)
I've become half-flustered over Boris Diaw again, all of a sudden, for no real reason other than I watched a few minutes of the Western Conference Finals last weekend while having dinner at the bar at Charleston's. I was overcome with weird and slightly unwelcome nostalgia, remembering those halcyon days of the Phoenix Suns' 05-06 season, when we had that magnificent, over-achieving team and a certain wide-eyed French player who (however inexplicably) was enthralled with our All-Star forward and made no effort to hide it.

In the ensuing days, I fired up my college-era laptop, transferred all my old fic to my current machine, and have been slowly filtering through it all ever since. It's more than 50 docs, an at-times facepalm-worthy adventure.

It's been trippy revisiting that unfinished Shawn Marion/Boris Diaw saga—I wrote those bits and pieces so long ago that it's almost like reading someone else's story at this point. Except no one else was drinking that particular kool-aid back in the day, let's be real.

But still. #neverforget

horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (rafa smiles)
I was up in the Oregon countryside last weekend, getting wet in the rain and eating a lot, and blissfully separated from my computer. Consequently, I never got around to making a "Woe is me" Phoenix Suns post, but by the time I got back Steve was cryptically tweeting about "moving on", so I suppose I will too, and focus instead on Rafa, the serve-and-volley claycourt master, and hope he beats Soderling on Sunday. Otherwise, I will probably end up buying questionable mixed-media art at the Swap Meet, making a sick bed on the couch, and eating ice cream for hours while watching an "Ice Road Truckers" marathon like I did last year.

Had a little glitch with the power cord for my laptop last night. It didn't appear to be supplying any power—clearly a problem—and additionally, it was stuck in the computer. So I took it into the Genius Bar after work, where several different techs puzzled over the situation and told me I might have to contact some obscure company to order parts for my "vintage" Mac, since Apple no longer has parts for dinosaurs, and it might take forever to fix, and I was having a minor panic attack about all this. Then they took my laptop into the back, fiddled with it, and brought it back out five minutes later with the cord successfully removed. The tech plugged in one of their cords at the store, and it worked like a charm again. So, a brand new cord (my fourth for this single Mac alone) and we're back in business. I have all my fics, all my photos, and it ended up being the best day.

I finished off the best day by having a little sushi and wine with some friends, then went to see Sex and the City 2, which is a terrible movie—and yet I enjoyed it.

Tomorrow is a barbeque extravaganza about half an hour north of the city. There will be hayrides and Rocky Mountain oysters, and hopefully some cooler weather.

Not sure if it's worth getting up early for the women's final.
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (leandro gets a handful)
...and not likely to get over this anytime soon. )

I don't even care how Steve looks, really. I'd still do him, in spite of the wrecked face.

I kind of want to slash him, too. Again.

Except with whom? I can't think of anyone suitable—a couple of Spurs come to mind, but I've already written Duncan/Nash and it felt like a mistake, and Ginobili/Nash is tricky for me. There's only so much a person can take, when Steve already looks like shit and Manu's busy looking like this.

Remember when Manu used to be kind of hot? Does anyone remember that?

I don't even understand what happened to everyone. Anyway, Ginobili/Nash will always be [livejournal.com profile] shadow_shimmer's, and I don't know that I could ever write them when she's already done it, magnificently.

Meanwhile, there's something wrong with my right foot. Almost like a cyst, or perhaps a bunyon (god help me)? I don't even know, but it's fairly painful. I'm going to wear flats for the next few days to see if it takes care of itself. Hopefully it's just a temporary irritation or inflammation of some sort—I'm 6 feet tall in heels and I would hate to give that up, since I really do enjoy towering over people, NGL.


May. 9th, 2010 10:52 pm
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (NBA)

Suns 107, Spurs 101. Suns win the series in a 4-game sweep.

To see Steve play so magnificently in the fourth quarter—

with an eye that looked like this: )

—it's hard to explain how something like that makes you feel. He's amazing.

If you don't follow the NBA—or you haven't been on my flist for the past five years—the Spurs were almost always the team in the Suns' way. They eliminated Nash-led Phoenix teams from the playoffs in 2005, 2007, and 2008, and there were broken faces, nosebleeds, suspensions, the most untimely of 3-pointers—

Basically it was endless drama and heartbreak, and the Suns could never beat the Spurs when it counted. It was torturous and horrific, and at times, I was moved to make helpless, depressed posts like this.

But now, they finally did it. And it's only the second round, but it is so, so, so sweet.

I am proud.
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (NBA)
Larry was at the Suns game tonight, wearing bright yellow capris, talking with his older gentlemanly friend, and intermittently golf-clapping.

His hair looked magnificent.

The halftime entertainment was this guy, who frolicked around the court performing the Macarena, YMCA, and other assorted dance moves, accompanied by stuffed Village People mannequin puppets attached to his body by a system of poles. Now, I realize that NBA halftime entertainment is hardly the pinnacle of performing arts, but this was honestly beyond anything I ever expected to be subjected to at a professional sporting event.

When I left after the game, the air was full of smoke. There had been talk of immigration protests outside the arena, and for a minute I was worried that maybe there had been a riot and something had been set on fire? But apparently it was just a mulch plant, slowly burning out in the west valley, and the smoke had finally blown downtown.


Went out for a belated birthday lunch today at Zinburger (amazing) and received a lovely gift (an orchid). It has been a good day :)
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (song)
I'm perturbed about tennis right now. Very perturbed. I'm pretty superstitious and now I basically regret writing "Clarity" back in 2008, where I babbled away about Roger winning the French Open in 2009 and Rafa succumbing to debilitating knee injuries and so on. Good job, me.

Most people (myself included) believe that Kurt Warner is going to announce his retirement at this little press conference thingy he's got scheduled for Friday. And that's just depressing, there's not much else I can say about it.

Also, the Phoenix Suns. WTF are they doing, I don't even understand what I've been watching.

It was only a year ago that Rafa was on the cusp on winning three of the four Slams and the Cardinals were in the Super Bowl. How quickly things change.

So I'm a bit dismayed by sports right now. I'm going to the Suns/Mavs game tomorrow, and I will probably need a drink, except guess what? I'm in day 4 of this week-long cleanse/detox that I read about in a random copy of Glamour magazine, of all places: no salt, no added sugar, no processed foods, no wheat, no alcohol, no caffeine, no dairy (except for yogurt), no saturated fat. It hasn't been too horrific; it forces me to be creative about cooking and I've been eating fun stuff like hummus, spicy shrimp with red cabbage slaw, and (modified) chicken tikka masala. I really miss salt, though, and I'll be glad when this is over. I don't believe in dieting and I'm not even sure why I'm doing this, exactly, except maybe to prove to myself that I can.

That's valid, right?
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (larry blue)
I had too much of all three over the long weekend, but Thanksgiving is, by far, my favorite holiday. Family, cooking, football, perfect weather. It's also the only holiday I get to spend with both of my parents at the same time. They've been divorced for nearly two decades, but in recent years my mom has been inviting my dad and stepmom to her house for Thanksgiving dinner, and it's really become a special time for me. To see my parents hug is still a strange experience, but they totally do hug, and my mom and stepmom like to hang out and go to lunch, and it is what it is, now. We spent much of the long weekend doing things together—a big, happy, extended, blended family. It's a good thing.

My dad loves to help me with household projects whenever he's in town, and this visit we installed a reverse osmosis water filtration system. It's pretty amazing, especially since we ran a line to the icemaker. Phoenix water is disgusting and my ice has always been a bit suspect—cloudy, salty, leaving mysterious white particles in the bottom of glasses as it melted—but now that we've installed the RO system, the ice is clear as diamonds.

The Cardinals snatched defeat from the jaws of victory on Sunday, but the team seems cheerful and upbeat so I'm just going to roll with it. The Suns are 14-3 and I'm starting to find Steve Nash sexy again. A little.

Arizona <3

Nov. 9th, 2009 09:57 pm
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (diaw & marion)
I had a dream the other night that I seduced Shawn Marion. The following night, I dreamed that Boris Diaw bought me fries at McDonald's. And really...I would prefer that it had been the other way around.

I'm not sure what brought on these dreams suddenly. They've both been gone for a long time. Maybe it's because I'm growing to like these new Suns, despite myself and my initial reservations. The roster looked ghastly at the start of the season, but they're playing fast and hard, the role players have been effective, and Steve looks like an MVP again. Nothing will ever compare to Boris and Shawn and how much I loved the 05-06 Suns, but I don't hate this current team (I like them!) and that's an enormous improvement over last year.


The Cardinals were glorious on Sunday, but it's been overshadowed locally by Anquan Boldin and his simmering rage over being held out of the game by the coaching staff. He spent the entire time shadowed beneath the hood of his sweatshirt, glowering and angry and actually looking quite amazing, in his own way, but he was clearly infuriated by the situation. Or maybe he was just mad because while he was standing on the sideline in his sweats, Larry was on the field doing this with someone else. )
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (diaw & marion)
The Suns played their 82nd and final game tonight. My last home game was Monday. I'm relieved, honestly, that it's over. This season has been a mess—a hot mess punctuated by sporadic bursts of occasional brilliance, and I'm exhausted.

Sometimes I think if it weren't for Rafa, there's no way I'd still watch sports. I just...feel like there's a lot of suffering, and I can never decide if the moments of euphoria quite make up for it. My teams, I <3 them, but they break my heart. It was different with the Cardinals—it was relatively new, and I wasn't quite so emotionally entrenched. But the Suns have been a part of my life for nearly 20 years. Watching them come so close to a championship time after time, and failing, and now declining, has been very hard.

Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. Right?

I can't help missing the old teams, though. I will never get over my 05-06 Phoenix Suns, not ever. They were magic to me, and that was their chance for a ring. I'll never forget Boris and Shawn that season—they were the freaking Odd Couple, I'll never understand what Boris saw in him, but they were amazing together. I miss Boris and his accent, and Shawn and his spastic, uncomfortable interviews. And I miss seeing them interact with each other, groping and whispering and touching hands, dangerously obvious in spite of the crowds.

I don't think there will ever be anything like that again <3

So, for the first time in four years, I'll watch the NBA Playoffs and not give a flying fuck about what happens. No hope, no excitement, no heartbreak. It is, in some ways, a relief. After the Super Bowl, I don't know that I could have handled the inevitable disappointment. Bring on the draft lottery, bring on free agency. Maybe at some point I'll figure out how to move on from these things.
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (autograph)
Firstly, Rafa:

<3 <3 <3

I am so happy he won today. I told myself I wasn't going to worry about it either way (everything after Wimbledon 2008 is icing on the cake), but of course once he started playing I got caught up in it and emotional as usual. I also thought this was an important week for Rafa, brushing aside all challengers and winning emphatically.

After the match, I renewed my Phoenix Suns tickets. I was a little nauseated by it; it's a lot of money to pay for something that likely will just drive me insane with frustration. But in the end, I had to do it. Ride or die, right?

Today is also the first day I've felt normal since donating blood on Thursday. It's been kind of bizarre; I never had issues like this before. I'd get a little crazy and woozy during the process itself, but I'd be fine afterwards. Not so this time. I spent the entire day following the donation in a stupor, utterly exhausted. I was still tired the second day, too, so I waited until Saturday to resume running. It was a strange, disoriented run, but I managed a normal distance. Everything seems fine today; went to the gym and had a good workout, and chatted with a random guy in a Roger Federer hat, the first RF hat I've ever come across in RL :D

Random Larry picspam. Is it August yet? )
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (cradle)
I love how everything I need to discuss right now is an acronym :)

First, I finally sent fic off to beta. \o/

Secondly, I did my taxes on Sunday. Thanks to my condo, I'm getting a big fat refund this year. I suppose the tax deduction makes all the other associated hassles worth it.

I will probably be turning around and using that refund to renew my Suns tickets. They broke my heart anew tonight by losing to the Mavs. I don't really see any way they make it into the playoffs now, and that is such an upsetting thing. Watching the last couple of minutes of tonight's game, I briefly felt like crying (which I've mentioned I never do, not even at funerals, but I do contemplate it occasionally). It's depressing, watching this team that I love slowly unraveling into nothing. I ride or die with my boys, but we've been mostly dying this year and I hate it.

At least I have the Cardinals, although Larry is currently scaring the hell out of me with his exploits in the Middle East. It's a lovely thing that he's doing, but once he started wearing kevlar and riding around in C-130s, I became a bit paranoid.

Also, I've been invited to go to the Rocky Horror Picture Show on Saturday night. My understanding is that this is an event. Has anyone gone before? What can I expect? I have knee-high platform boots sitting in the closet, but beyond that things are unclear.
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (diaw & marion)
I kind of want to punch Amare Stoudemire in the face. I can't say that about many people.

I do wish that the Suns had Charlotte's in-game DJ person thing. The music was so awesome, I almost didn't mind watching my boys humiliate themselves beyond all reasonable hope for recovery.
horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (leandro gets a handful)
I spent most of the afternoon with Auston. We had a long lunch at My Florist, with sangria and sandwiches and hot lava cake a la mode; and then a shorter walk through Steele Indian School Park, enjoying the lake and the sunshine and the 87º weather. He is moving to Chicago tomorrow. It was a strange goodbye, at the end of it all; I don't think either of us quite knew what to say. I'll see you, soon.

Later I went to the Suns' open practice. I haven't really been in the mood for basketball; my season tickets were delivered days ago to the condo office but I have yet to pick them up. Tonight helped, a little. Steve was so tiny and disheveled, and he breaks my heart anew every time I see him. All the little kids were calling his name and he kept turning around to smile and wave at them. Amare was there, intermittently donning huge diamond-studded sunglasses, though he didn't practice at all. (Still nursing his torn iris or what-have-you.) Somehow I keep forgetting we have Shaq on the team, even though I've had months to get used to the fact. Boris has let his hair grown long; it doesn't suit him, and I don't particularly like it. When the kids called his name he ignored them.

He still has the most devastating face.

Also, I've been watching a lot of baseball. I love postseason baseball so much, it seems silly that I can't tolerate it any other time of year.


horizon_greene: Robert Smith singing (Default)

July 2017



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