This day makes me a sad, sad panda.
Not only did football officially end, but it’s a certain day. A day which for me, is not reminiscent of the commercially-driven, trite, and pathetic attempt at reviving millions of lost relationships and displaying general human kindness (which does far more to alienate and jade the masses that bring about love), but is much more reminiscent of the masacre which bares its name.
Whew. Let me catch my breath.
Well, in better news, I’ve been even more enthralled by the Ute BBall team and Andrew Bogut. His stat line tonight: 31 and 13. By the way, it was the 17th straight win for the #13 ranked Utes. Even more amazing was Saturday: career high 33 points, 16 reb (6 offensive), 5 blocks, 3 assists, 3 charges taken, and 1 foul in 39 (out of 40) minutes. Oh, and he fouled out 2 of there big men, including their star player.

Anyways, as you can tell, my friend Joe is a big CSU fan. He wore that getup in the MUSS (student section), and got laughed at and heckeled all night. It was pretty funny. And yes, those are REAL ram’s horns that he bought on ebay and screwed onto a gold and green motercycle helmet. Oh yeah, and we had a big party after the game at my place, which was fun. Not as fun as the party we had 3 weeks ago, but fun.
So, I have been feeling strange lately, so I wrote a couple of sonnets. These have been swishing around in my head for about a week. You’ll notice they are different in tone and subject than any I have ever written (if you care). In honor of this “special” day, here they are:
Sonnet 31
Matt Affolter
2-13-5
With all of my love, I want you tonight,
As we dare to chase world’s greatest pleasure,
Our union will be passionate, despite,
Its time, a little to short to measure.
It is not by any fault of your own,
But our two paths must diverge tomorrow,
Do not blame this on wild oats not sown,
My reluctance is based on what I know.
One night is great, a second can bring pain,
Because as the break of dawn approaches,
Our fervor falls and expectations gain,
My only hope is separate coaches.
Nothing in this life can beat a woman’s touch,
But nothing can hurt like a woman’s clutch.
Sonnet 32 – Thermal
Matt Affotler
2-13-5
I am nothing but fuel, waiting to burn,
A book of matches sitting in the sun,
Gasoline and kindling—of no consern,
My passion flares up before you’ve begun.
My fire rages all thoughout the night,
A blaze which could enlighten worlds from dark,
I search the land for someone to ignight,
To simply give to me the smallest spark.
Tough love for you could scorch past history,
With a flame to topple the tallest tree,
This heat can not be aleatory,
Because our combined smole I fail to see.
Even with your warming glow, I refrain,
The desire for fire will regain.
Oh, and in case you want a romantic one, here you go. Read it to you significant other or the person you are cheating on them with.
Sonnet 23
Matt Affolter 12-22-1
The time in which my mind is the most clear,
Is the moment when your lips press to mine.
When my mind is the most cluttered, my dear,
Is after its completion, so benign.
Your kisses float me to a distant cloud,
Sailing a continual see of bliss,
And at the time at which I am most proud,
I learn that your affections I will miss.
And now, the time in which we are apart,
My mind and soul see no pain and sorrow.
My focus is on the path to your heart
I will venture some distant tomorrow.
Although between us both lies the sunset,
A thought, and you’re as near as our lips met.
Now that’s over with, let’s get to the blood and gore:
Matt’s Stick Death

This just might be my favorite one. That outta chear anyone up!
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