Chemically Imbalanced (espresso-jogged screeds)

SERBC: theses

this blog knows you come here eagerly for half-baked impressions typed on the tail end of surreal, sleepless days in the rattling blogmobile. thus will we deliver!

the SERBC so far foists upon us these first-blush notions:

* smallest crowds in recent memory. smaller, most of today, than any spectator group we’ve witnessed going back to 2004. so embarrassingly dead, at times, that nick cho seemed compelled to suddenly clap loudly for no apparent reason! we blame the peninsular location …

* no single performer stood out, in terms of presentation. charisma, humor, showmanship, flair — all missing. what was on display, instead, were mostly new competitors so intent on keeping time and following protocols that they didn’t bring the panache. no criticism there — the competition really doesn’t reward these things. so where does that leave the audience?

* far, far away, that’s where. thanks to a raised competition platform, there was no way to see, with your own eyes, anything detailed a competitor was doing. no shot pours twisting noticeably, no latte art developing starkly, no sloshes and spills visible from the seats. which left you a big-screen TV with an image somewhat washed out from the lighting. might as well stream that image line on the interwebs! we blame the peninsular location …

* someone pinch this blog … five south carolina competitors and three from the greenville area? whaa? hooray for the palmetto state, and whatever floridian charm lured them to competition!

* to describe how cold it was in ballroom A would be akin to dying again a slow, shivering death. this blog’s toes are still being massaged back to their normal hue. parkas were in evidence. we blame the peninsular location …

the hudge, from afar and from below.