David Eric Tomlinson (author) | words and stuff

“Drink up,” the man said to his daughter. “I don’t want to,” the girl said. “You need to understand how this feels,” said the man.

The recent Pacquiao-Márquez boxing bout was full of lust, anger, calculation, sport—the same as what’s occurring in Zuccotti Park, in Congress, in every household across America. Boxing is the sport of the now, and its lessons will be useful tonight.

“The geese are winging in from the north. First a hairline thread in the muted horizon, then a cross-stitch in the sky over Portaferry, in County Down, Northern Ireland. Soon a dark and honking seam gliding in against the ebbing tidal narrows, breaking rank at last to alight in ungainly spray atop the waters of Strangford Lough …”

“The shade held no allure for me – I was here for a belly full of booze and the insouciant regret of a peeling sunburn. I’d sleep it off tomorrow and be back in the rotation on Monday with a fresh take on Herb’s high-minded theories on risk versus reward.”