Does it matter what I write here? I’m just tapping, tapping, tapping away because, right now, I feel like this is all I’ve got, floating around in the ether of cyberspace.

What to say? So finishes another season of the NBA, and I am just gazing at NBC’s final telecast, completely spaced out. It’s kind of funny how my memories are punctuated by these kind of Junes. I do not think of weddings, of graduations, of Father’s Days. Instead, there are the NBA Finals, and boys like me will weep over silly games.

But with each sip of champagne, I am on the verge of unconsciousness, so I will end here for now.