I just don't get it!

Sometimes, I just don’t get it. The stuff I don’t get is often considered classic, cult or genius.
It’s pretty scary to stand up and say, ‘You know what, I thought Easy Rider was a gigantic fucking waste of time. I just don’t get it.’
Dennis Hopper’s passing away brought Easy Rider back into the mainstream of my consciousness. I had hidden it away, in the ‘Don’t-get-it-but-embarrassed –to-say-so’ box.
I also don’t get Henry Miller’s ‘Tropics’. I mean, are you kidding me??!! Really?!! Was there some genius involved there?!! Maybe it’s me. But hey, I just don’t get it.

The German way

I went to a school that was funded, founded and run by Jesuit German and Austrian missionary priests. That’s not to say we were going Heil Hitler, but, we certainly learnt German and were raised to have a die-hard love for football. In India, that can only be achieved by banning cricket in school, which was the case with St Vincent’s.
However, the school work ethic was, as they would say in German, fleisig, which translates into industriousness, but has a totally different feel to it in German. Which is why I totally get the German ban on short-shelling.

All gone

The beat is gone. So is the vibe, the DJ, the bass player and the guy at the end of the road.
‘Emptiness within’, in the vocal style of Elvis Presley, echoes. A lot of ‘f’ words come to mind, when actually only one will suffice, really.
‘Ifs’ and ‘buts’ and ‘what-might-have-beens’ swirl about the consciousness like locusts threatening to swoop on the imagination and devour any fertility that might exist there.
Dour. Life is dour. Like a blanket soaked in the ocean it drenches the skin in unforgiving coldness. There is no warmth. There is nothing. All gone.

Pet peeve

I am not overly fond of pets. I am surrounded by people, who, for the most are. Dogs, birds, fish…
My one personal attempt at keeping a dog ended in heartbreak. It was a Dalmation (no less) of prize-winning pedigree.
Unfortunately, I was on drugs at the time and had to give him away. Even though we had been together for just a year, I cried like a baby when they came to take him.
So, when my boss came in this morning saying his dog had died, I sort of empathized. I knew, that must hurt bad.

Too much hood in the Robin

Gladiator is the best action-adventure movie ever. Sadly, the Robin Hood legend itself does not lend in any way to a canvas on which Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe could recreate that magic. The legend is just too frivolous. It is fraught with buffoonery and the action lends to too much tomfoolery.
So, despite a clever script to give this Robin Hood a serious mission and greater ambition, the film falls flat.
It takes itself too seriously. Unlike the Robin Hood we all know and love.
Crowe is the better action hero, Kevin Costner is the better Robin Hood.

Get ready for the Brazilian Viennese Waltz

This will be the first Brazilian team in my living years where the defenders are the best players.
Lucio, Julio Cesare, Maicon, Danny Alves, Thiago Silva are all marquee names in football today. All defenders. Even Kaka, probably Brazil’s current most famous player, is an attacking midfielder.
Which means, what? For the first time we will see Brazil not conceding goals instead of merely outscoring opponents.
If you’re looking for the Samba at this World Cup you might be disappointed. You might get a stiff Viennese Waltz instead. Not as sexy, but may still be effective in the end.

I predict...

I have rarely been spot on with my World Cup predictions, because I have always supported England.
Nevertheless, this time, I predict four of these five - Brazil, Argentina, Holland, Spain and England will make the semis. I have two dark horses: Australia and Serbia.
Which means powerhouses like Germany, Italy and France are out of my reckoning, as are promising Portugal and upstarts like South Korea or the USA.
My head says Argentina or Spain will win it. My heart goes with England. My underdog to win is Holland. Come back in three months and applaud my judgement.

A love story

I’m finally reading my first 'love story' novel. Every novel more or less has a love story, but when I say 'love story' novel I am talking Mills and Boon-type.
Thankfully the author is Thomas Hardy (Far from the Madding Crowd) and the love is really between the English language and the author. The characters, the scenery, the plot, merely flesh out Hardy’s passion for the word.
If you must be verbose (and believe me, as a writer of 99 words a day some paras never seem to end) then be as magically compelling and charming as Thomas Hardy.

A Liver-puddle-ian tale

If Liverpool’s would rather spend five years outside the Top 4 than help Manchester United overhaul their 18 league titles then it suggests the great club has lost the ‘great’ mentality all together.
If the pride is in the fans, it certainly does not reflect on the pitch.
I suspect the woman who chose to have my last name and bear my children is a closeted Liverpool fan. In my house your either a red Mancunian or you're out (I suspect my son is a closeted Chelsea fan). Maybe after this performance today, they will see the light. Red.

The disgrace of Scotland

Would you rather have a champion who has a nasty temper, is an alcoholic and a struggling father? Or, would you rather have a world champion who is a squeaky clean teetotaler, happily married with two kids – who accepts money to throw a game?
John Higgins has all but destroyed snooker for the near future. Match fixing in snooker has long been under the scanner, but not by the world champion.
He will be dethroned by Monday night as he lost to Steve Davis in the second round. But this expose has dethroned him forever. A bloody disgrace.

My girl is ready

My daughter is about to receive her First Holy Communion.
So I sat her down for that talk. You know - the relevance of the whole thing and why it is a ‘spiritual milestone’.
When a sinner begins to talk about God it’s always interesting. There is an acute awareness of the chasm between where one is and where one wants to be. And it’s amazing to sit in front of your child and say, “I’m pretty messed up. But, you don’t have to be. And God is probably a great help. As is the Church.”
She totally agreed.