My internet and computer both seem to be working, and, shockingly, in synchrony! Praise them with great praise. And I have rather neglected the blogosphere for a long time, haven't I? Have kept busy, though, with medieval texts on virginity (damned if you do, damned if you don't), trashy cable telly, and before I forget to underline this, league football
During the World Cup I remembered why and how much I'd loved the whole sprawling mess; by now, I'm keenly aware of the perilous state of my blood pressure. Because I realised: this is why I stopped watching. God, the corruption, the conflicting rumours of transfers and public statements, the conspicuous lack of any football beyond the bloody EPL on tv (rodeo boys, golfers and cricketers of the world, never have I hated you more)... But it is exactly this helpless and cynical excitement I seem to crave. I suppose I can live with the collateral damage - worrying over whether the bloodthirsty moneybags who run the business will tear Jesusboy Kaká away from AC Milan, or why Alessandro Nesta is selling Gatorade instead of spumante. Anyway, it is a beautiful game, and I'm touched by the vanity and the sublimity. Despite myself.
Regarding Steve Irwin, whose death prompted the Telegraph, my current Englang daily, to print two obituaresque articles in yesterday's paper. He seems either to be adored for his all-too-easily caricatured Australianisms and love of wildlife, or to be demonised for trying to feed his son to a crocodile and generally Disneyfying everything with teeth and scales. I actually thought immediately of Timothy Treadwell, alias the 'Grizzly Man', who got himself and his girlfriend killed by bears three years ago. Treadwell made the monumental mistake of thinking himself very like a bear, which bit of delusion proved fatal. On the other hand, people dying on the job - happens all the time, why bring convoluted notions of karma/ the animal world 'taking revenge' (Germaine, Germaine, you are not very germane) into it? What a singular connection to have made with a sea creature. Poor bloke.
2 comments:
karma or not- serrated shit happens. Its all in the head- Zidane knows.
i have been too busy "decoding ferran adria" to notice anything else these days -- irwin - r.i.p as for him trying to feed his baby to a croc, i wud've tried the same activity post my younger sister's birth except for the lack(despite those sewer urban legends) of an actual crocodile upstate..
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