k e e l y | d u n n

This is for the Marconi mafia, to whom I read this blog post aloud. It was an unexpected hit, much like everything Merlin does.

merlin:

Buffering [Sonny Payne]

When I was a percussionist in high school, we were responsible for keeping the jazz band, full orchestra, concert band, and marching band in time, and we did so through a haze of marijuana and hormones and passed-down stories of some guy’s uncle who saw Gene Krupa perform a 12-minute solo using every part of a high hat while eschewing the rest of the kit. And to this day, when I see videos like this, I get an urge to skip class and go make out with a bassoonist in a sound-proof practice room. After all, life is short, and lunch period is even shorter.

Did you read that? That was swell. One hundred five words. Less than half a page.

That’s all it took for this person (whom I’m pretty sure I’ve never met) to make my day. Now I want to follow this person or star this person or favr this person or whatever the fuck au courant verb box I need to mash on in order to see more things like that.

Yes, I realize I am — already, again, seemingly forever — carrying on like that weird relative who always smells of gin and Starlight mints as he threatens to “set you up with a sweet Doobie Brothers mix.” I love Starlight mints, but please don’t misunderstand me.

I genuinely enjoy looking at oversaturated pictures of coltish women I’ll never meet. I’m always game to make fun of “improperly” punctuated “signs.” And God knows I love reading (and posting) elliptical quotes from famous books I never finished reading. Stipulated.

But, brother. Do I ever wish more people would write little stories like Buffering’s. It’s just so wonderful. You know?

I mean, Jesus Christ, people, LOOK. We have keyboards! Literally right in front of us. Right this second.

Read More

So you’re driving a private bus around the extremely bumpy streets of Rio De Janeiro all day. Your bus is taller than it is wide, and you’ve got a bunch of foreigners who need to go back and forth from the Villa Militaria every day, and they seem to always need to be wherever they’re going yesterday. You could slow down and carefully negotiate every pothole, ramp and depression, eking out the best path around each tight off-ramp curl. Or…

You just drive the snot out of that bus like there isn’t a tomorrow and give those foreigners in the back something to cheer about. YEEEEEEHAW!

I wish I had video, but I was seriously terrified that during filming, any bump could launch that iPhone 4 out of my hand at a hundred km/hr and end up embedded in the back of one of my colleague’s heads.

Since his step-mom was still umpiring on the pitch on the last day, I was the one to explain to Donnie that a 7.0 mark on his tournament report constituted a recommendation that the FIH UC award Donnie with his international badge.

He got this big smile on his face and explained to me that if the FIH accepts him, he will make history as the first Bermudian man ever to earn an FIH badge. It was humbling to see a 19 year-old man appreciate what this means to his local community and to the PAHF, not just to himself.

I’ll admit it: this crusty vet got a little verclempt.

I’m pretty crap these days about blogging my tournament experiences. However, I was thinking as I was flying home that there were a lot of special little things that I did feel really grateful for that I experienced in Rio. It must be the yoga thing kicking in.

So I’m going to share those things in bit-sized pieces over the next several days. If you’re interested, you can follow the hashtag #gratefulforrio.