I’m didn’t really care much one way or the other who won the World Series (although I did get a charge out of watching George H.W. and Barbara Bush witness something even more disappointing than their children), but it was nice to see an old school team win it for the second year in a row as opposed to those upstart spend-a-shitload-of-money-then-collapse teams (Marlins ’03, D’Backs ’01). Like a lot of baseball fans I would have liked to have seen Bagwell and Biggio win one before they retire, but, oh well.
Full disclosure: Casey was once an Astro
Having said all that, here are the completely unrelated to baseball lyrics to Dear Chicago, a Ryan Adams song that I have been playing over and over for about two weeks now. Good lord, is it gorgeous.
And it mentions Chicago.
You’ll never guess.
You know the girl you said I’d meet someday?
Well, I’ve got something to confess.
She picked me up on Friday.
Asked me if she reminded me of you.
I just laughed and lit a cigarette,
Said “that’s impossible to do.”
My life’s gotten simple since.
And it fluctuates so much.
Happy and sad and back again.
I’m not crying out to much.
Think about you all the time.
It’s strange and hard to deal.
Think about you lying there.
And those blankets lie so still.
Nothing breathes here in the cold.
Nothing moves or even smiles.
I’ve been thinking some of suicide.
But there’s bars out here for miles.
Sorry about the every kiss.
Every kiss you wasted back.
I think the thing you said was true,
I’m going to die alone and sad.
The wind’s feeling real these days.
Yeah, baby, it hurt’s me some.
Never thought I’d feel so blue.
New York City, you’re almost gone.
I think that I’ve fallen out of love.
I think I’ve fallen out of love . . . with you