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BLOGGER
Youngest kid of six with an inferiority and black sheep complex, but determined that God saves not just his soul to heaven but the remainder of his manic-depressive life, so others won't say he became a Christian and remained a jerk.
MAIN THEMES
On identity i won't be transparent before i'm opaque. and you'll get to know me starting from the small things: who my favourite bands are. what kind of movies i like. who are my heroes. On Christianity I’m convinced that when confronted with sincere, real love, the Jesus factor will become obvious. But let’s not plant the cross before we carry it. I’m not trying to con you. On dreams Some dreams are meant to be achieved. I know that. But maybe other dreams are meant to drive us, privately. Never known to anyone but ourselves.
OTHER THEMES
On melancholy It is a sadness that, when choosing between crying and sighing, will choose sighing. I'd almost say that melancholy is being sad about sadness itself. On memory and nostalgia It saddens me when life moves forward and people decide that certain things are worth forgetting. On language I've learnt that the word irregardless is filed as a non-standard word in the English language. That's a lexicographer's way of saying it's not a real word. On politics Crowds are fickle things. So when we stand in the thousands and cry against the present government, do we know who we're actually crying for? On society People always want the best for themselves. But I want to sometimes take second or third or fourth best, just so that the loser down the road doesn't always have to come in last. It must feel like shit to always come in last. On growing old Leasehold property make me feel sad. It doesn't matter how old the family photos are that you put on your wall. It's your family but it's not really your wall. On philosophy I ask you, if God loves everyone, and if God is also incapable of loving evil, how can there be such a thing as an evil man? On a daily basis One line quips, like this. CHAT
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Monday, July 10, 2006
 I like old fashioned things. When I was growing up, I was exposed to a lot of stuff that my parents liked - one of those things was watching old football videos. I grew up with videos of Italy winning the world cup in 1982. As a six year old boy, I used to run around the house with a ball at my feet, terrorising all the delicate pieces of furniture before me as every piece of wall became a teammate with whom I would play a one-two.Of course, I was every great footballer - at six, i hero worshipped a gangly little Italian man called Paolo Rossi, who in three games wreaked havoc for the great Brazilians and Poland and a die-hard Germany. Paolo Rossi's goals and their world cup triumph in Spain infused my memory with great imaginations. I always support three teams at the world cup - England, Holland and Italy. Of the three, my love for Italy goes furthest back. It goes back to those days, tv on, ball at feet, terror in the house. Last night, Italy became champions of the world again. And this time, I didn't have to catch it as a six year old watching four year old video tapes. I didn't have to ask my mum what happened to heroes such as Rossi and Tardelli and Zoff because they weren't around anymore. This time, I caught it live, fraction by fraction, as a 26 year old with more than an interest in watching goals on tapes. This time, the heroes were before me: Buffon, Cannavaro, Grosso. And as the world cup was lifted into the night sky in Berlin, it felt like Madrid all over again.  I was a child again, rewinding the tape to see the final again and again. Lippi looked like Bearzot, with his cigar and snowy grey hair. Buffon looked like Zoff, larger than life in height and legend. This little skinny guy, Fabio Grosso looked like Paolo Rossi, an unlikely hero. I had wanted Italy to win this world cup for so long now. I punted before the opening game one month ago that Italy would win this, sometimes not knowing if my credibility was on the block over head or heart or memory. Just like that Spanish magazine up there, today the world's media is flooded with images of a new Italian side making new dreams, perhaps, for kids like me who always thought that Brazil equals bad guys.Forza Italia! Campioni del mondo! Labels: sports Genusfrog [
5:55 pm ]
 
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2 Comments:
Yeah, almost built you a strong solid wall in the back garden to save the house! And that favourite football with all the flags of the participating countries on it...and yes, are you still keeping that soccer scrapbook we made? that's de best ! Talk about nostalgia... how about those wondrous nights of cheering and screaming, on you know where ! haha ! Viva Italiana !
By
Anonymous, at 9:35 pm
Yeah, almost built you a strong solid wall in the back garden to save the house! And that favourite football with all the flags of the participating countries on it...and yes, are you still keeping that soccer scrapbook we made? that's de best ! Talk about nostalgia... how about those wondrous nights of cheering and screaming, on you know where ! haha ! Viva Italiana !
By
Anonymous, at 9:44 pm
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