Money or me... so it's me

I am in a dilemma. I have realised that when I have nothing, I have everything.
Don’t dismiss that as standard-issue, trying-to-be-wise psychobabble.
It’s a profoundly earth-shattering discovery for me.
When I am completely broke and stripped of all material proprietaries, then I find I am able to think clearly, act normally and do that stuff that really leaves me at peace.
One thing for sure, I cannot ever have money with me.
It is has never bought me happiness.
Sure, the problem is me. But, it’s easier to get rid of money than to get rid of me.

Here's a FB status update...

First the disclaimer: I am an anti-facebook facebooker.

Think of me as someone who would own a hummer but plant a tree. Someone who would buy cocaine from a Nigerian but contribute to Aid for Africa.

So, when you’re facebook status for relationship says ‘complicated’ what it really means is 'fucked up'.

And when you describe yourself… don’t.
Because what your description really says about you is that you are pompous, self-indulgent, driveling, tunnel-visioned, head-so-far-up-the-ass-you-can-eat-and-shit-at-the-same-time, naïve and narcissistic.

So don’t bother describing yourself. If I find you and connect with you I will discover exactly who you are. Ok?

Me and Man-fucking-chester United, and why i cannot afford passion any more

I have allowed myself to become so hung-up on Manchester United that I am physically sick when they play badly and emotionally disturbed when they lose.
It can’t be healthy. But, then, passion, in general, is unhealthy.
It is an essence of youth which if you carry over into your middle life, you are likely to suffer heartburn, financial ruin and a nervous breakdown.
All of which can be disguised by a half decent occupation, a little social savvy and plenty of bluster.
I am 37. That is fucking old. I cannot afford passion any more. Or vice versa.

For whom the keyboard is struck...

A journalist writes for four people: His editor, his fellow journalists, his mother and the reader. In that order.
The modern news consumer is so far removed from the age of journalism where it was the conscience of society - that it needs stating that the order should be in the reverse.
The internet offers the chance for practitioners of the ancient art of this journalism to, well, practice the art.
What it does not offer is the imprimatur of a masthead and a pulpit that commands the attention of nation.
And no editorial checks and balances either. So?

Who will tell the Muslims?

There is only so much that one can slag Jennifer Aniston. Then, it’s time to get with the programme. One of the major challenges of this the 21st century will be how the world is going to interact with Islam.
With extreme political correctness in play, the chance to tell Muslims that if they don’t allow their religion to evolve – if they don’t start now, 100 years after everyone else – they will increasingly find themselves polarised, has passed.
It is now up to the really radical Muslims inside Islam to bring about the renaissance. Or else, we’re all screwed.

Oh no, Jen!

I’m having a Jen week. Like I did not have enough of my own problems.
I saw the Bounty Hunter yesterday – she and Gerard Butler, him of the 26-pack, 300 fame.
Out of sheer grit, the kind needed to make the last 500mts to Mount Everest when your oxygen tank is empty, I sat through the entire movie.
It is, by some distance, the worst movie I have ever seen. Good ol' Jen, she can’t act. Seven seasons of friends proved that.
But Mr Butler can (see Law Abiding Citizen). Maybe he just had his Jen phase as well.

Oh Jen, no!

I always knew Jennifer Aniston was kooky in the head. Some people just set themselves up to be losers all their life. (Ask me). And Jen, poor thing, is the poster child for this genus of human being.
Living in her own little world, I am trying to recreate the conversation with her agent, or friend (oops) or enemy (posing as friend, oops) who suggested her recreating the classic Barbra Streisand pose. See here: http://www.emirates247.com/entertainment/celebrity-gossip/jennifer-nixes-ai-baby-rumours-2010-08-10-1.277305
Woman, I can’t even come up with a metaphor to make fun of your attempt at copying Streisand... get it. Get a life! Please.

Is this the end?

I feel like time is up for this blog. It needs to evolve now and move on. When I was working for a print publication writing a blog seemed a novelty.
Now, I work for a website and working as I do, 24/7 online, writing online does not seem such a novelty.
Also, my life is going through its ‘shedding of skin’ phase. Like a snake, every five years my life sheds its skin and starts anew.
In the midst of all this, I just am struggling to write regularly.
Am I being lazy or is this the end?

The four corners of music

Every puzzle – the ones where you put pieces together – has four key corner pieces. As a kid I went through my puzzle phase doing some pretty fancy 1,000-piece ones. I always remember looking for the corner ones first.
The other day while listening to a Simon and Garfunkel ‘live’ (they managed to get the Everly Brothers to perform as well) CD it got me thinking – what were the four corner pieces of the modern pop music puzzle?
Who were those four influences that held it all together for the rest to fit in?
Elvis, Jackson, Miles and one more…