Shadowrun

For a week or so, summer weather hit New York hard. I struggled to find water to jump into, but of course none was had. (Summer goal: Meet someone with a pool!) The humidity was so intense I even resorted to wearing a tank top. I never realized how much cooler one is, since San Diego is rarely that cold, especially up by Del Mar. I found myself just wanting to wear tank tops the rest of the sure to be sweltering summer, with a linen shirt to go over it if I needed to get fancy.

Of course, after a few days of intense heat, the rains came and drowned out all dreams of summer actually being here. When we left New York to head to Vegas -- site of 100+ degree weather -- our plane was delayed an hour and a half due to pounding rain and low visibility. Ridiculous.

In Vegas, Jimmy got married, with a small ceremony that lasted exactly 8:37 minutes, from the moment his wife walked down the aisle to their "You may kiss the bride." We bet on how long the thing would last, and true to Vegas form, it was short short short. Jimmy provided an exciting moment of levity when he butter fingered away his ring, recovering to catch it right before it hit the floor. It made me flashback to our times playing football, when Jimmy would invariably drop every pass I threw to him. Yet when he played for the other team, his huge mitts would Calvin Johnson snatch every pass in his vicinity. I was sure it was personal.

At dinner, we figured out that I'd known Jimmy for almost twenty five years, although we couldn't pin down the exact time we met. We grew up doing endless amounts of sports, video games, RPGs, and all that wonderful stuff. When I was homesick and dying out in barren Michigan, Jimmy was the only person who came out to visit me. A true friend! He also organized George and I's surprise high school graduation party. And I'm sure he's done lots of other nice things, but since we have an antagonistic brotherly relationship, I can only say so many good things.

During a summer trip to Warner Springs, where we had parent-free weekends once we came of age, Jimmy once said that he wished he wouldn't know any of us in ten years. Well, that didn't quite work out did it? Also, during one of our Warnerpalooza trips, we got him some long/short underwear emblazoned with "Powder's Booty" for his birthday. Jimmy was pale as shit all the time, as he worked hard to maitain his FOB-hood. It's still one of my favorite photos.

I'm actually trying to write a book right now, about little Asian gangsters, partially based on Jimmy's experience in high school. I'm naming the lead character after him, and it's hopefully going to be a heist novel, with some of Michael Douglas' The Game thrown in, crossed with a touch of Better Luck Tomorrow. Given the chance, I'm going to dress the character like Jimmy too, in all white vest and pant suit ensembles, sometimes black, with those long bangs that screamed "punk."

As this was the first time Mae was meeting my home friends, I noticed that trying to explain how everyone knew each other, and the complex web of who/when shared history, it's just unwieldy. Will Facebook one day take over this task? Can it do it already? Will social networks get to the point where you can at one glance see how close two people are, or used to be, and provide a semi-personalized timeline of a friendship? That would have some utility right?

Got in a little run today. My friend, whom I talked about a few months back, is still in San Diego, with a fresh haircut, a new car to replace his bike, and an entrepreneur business that he just started. I was happy to hear that he's happy with his new direction. Every Wednesday, he plays ball up at this gym in Carlsbad and I got up there as quick as I could.

I haven't seen much of the Spurs versus Heat Finals, but I've been reading tons of articles online. All season long, Grantland has been pounding in the idea that outside shooting, spacing, and corner threes are of utmost importance for new age offensive juggernauts. Well, playing with these Carlsbad guys, that's all true. Usually, at the level of pickup I play, only one or two players are actual three point threats. At this court, almost everybody can shoot, and most of them from beyond the arc.

The game really does become drive and dish, spot up and chuck. I can't do either of those, of course, but the passing lanes are wide open and it's always much funner to play with people who actually know how to fill space and cut to the basket. They also played with a time clock in case nobody could efficiently score eleven points, and the short ten minute runs made people give max effort the whole time. My team played three games in a row and I was dead tired by the end.

This body isn't built for moving at top speed for more than three minutes at a time. It's not even a decline anymore, it's just gone. Poof.