Zusammen - fussball

Is it just me or have all the world cup songs been rubbish this year? I know we've had some shockers over the years but at least they were catchy and sing-able in the pub. I hated Vindaloo but it does have a ring to it.

All the tracks this year have sucked - no decent chorus. The official song is the worst - the chorus is about as suitable as the corporate sponsors. I think the only solution is to get the Finnish Eurovision winners to write the next one.

Anyway England should win on Saturday - without Costinha Rooney should get some space behind their midfield and I can't see their defence stopping him. As long as they don't foul him at the start of the match again I don't think it should be too tough. But having said that I'm sure they'll make us sweat.

I reckon Sven should start with
Robinson
Neville Terry Ferdinand Cole
Hargreaves
Lennon Beckham Gerrard Cole
Rooney

Lampard definitely deserved to start the tournament on his domestic form, but he's been rubbish so far - 21 missed shots is a shocking record. I know people say: "at least he's getting into the right positions" but that means p*ss all if you don't pass or shoot on target. If he wastes another bunch of good chances that could be the difference between us and the Portugeezers.

But he'll probably start with Lampard. I suppose he has to score one sometime...

More cheating b*stards

Figo
Originally uploaded by Dark Hunter.

I used to have respect for Figo. Even when he scored against us at Euro 2000.

Now he can f*ck off back home like the cheating swine that he is.

Cheating b*stards

Henry
Originally uploaded by Dark Hunter.

First post since WC started. I've been too busy watching the games.

Why has FIFA failed to deal with the outrageous cheating at the world cup? The pictures clearly show that Figo and Henry (among others) CHEATED, and successfully deceived the referee.

Well, they haven't fooled me, the cheating b*stards.

The result of this is that everyone all round the world, including the children, have seen cheats prosper.

FIFA should at least fine both players, even if they feel they can't ban them. Until this gets sorted out players will continue to cheat and fake, and the game will suffer.

Spain did not deserve to lose to France last night - and Henry's selfish, misguided and out-of-character action has cost him my respect. But this won't help - FIFA and UEFA need to act.

The Room continued...

...Thus to write about the consciousness of a nonhuman form, as a human, is mere folly.

Thus the room did not deconstruct the looming reality of its existence. It simply became. As it began to be it did not ask itself existential questions but rather practical ones. Its first real question (to itself, of course) was “what is that?” This was in response to its sudden perception of the other, the non-self. For what lay outside the room was the phenomenal, overbearing and terrifying nonsense of everything.

Having no organs, no senses as such, the room was not able to divine what this non-self was, but it was sufficiently aware to understand the distinction. At this stage, we can realise that the room’s collective birth of a single, divided consciousness is not the same in any way to our own experience of sense, or self. A child does not understand the non-self for many months. This room, this being was made up of the ephemera of the wider world, and was not born from a union of cells, but from their death, reshaping and decay.

The carelessly collated clothes, lying in heaps for sorting, washing and ironing; one dead moth, crispy and brittle in its silent and unmourned solitude; the furniture, certainly the dominant force in terms of volume and strength; the books that stood and wilted proudly on the shelves; the unwashed and stale bedclothes; the quiet shoes and the dust and dirt that gathered in their creases and soles; the detritus of the poet’s life – letters (often unopened), pens (often unused), tangled ties (worn but once) and, of course, the walls, floor and ceiling, topped by the carpet and the paintwork.

The room’s uniting feature, as so often is the case at the start, were not its shared political beliefs, nor shared economic interest nor even its carefully selected and highly tasteful colour scheme, but rather its shared physicality and presence. Like a tribe of men rising from the desert, or the swamp, it perceived its own borders and self clearly, but lacked the ability to see beyond itself. The other emanated only fear and uncertainty. Without success, without joy, the room could not yet know excitement – only dread – the natural concern of a living being obsessed with its own survival.

But the comparisons must end there. A tribe of men surrenders individual action and decisions to a central force, usually an individual. That could not happen here – there was no disagreement, no scarcity or economies of scale that could be used here. Here the consciousness, not the political system, was genuinely all inclusive, and thus here there was only one – both trader and politician, doctor and assassin, cop and robber – if somewhat confused.

The Room continued

(see earlier posts)

The room felt a sense of responsibility for itself for the first time, but not very clearly. In fact, it was mainly just manifested in the spines of the shelves. They were doing a sterling job; after all, poets like to read…

These spines underpinned the room, but not in some traditional, physical sense; nor yet metaphysically. The structure of consciousness, the room may or may not have been discovering, could be seen as crossing the boundaries of the physical and the non-physical. For that, indeed, is what consciousness may be – the bridge between the world of thought and the world of form. So to start with the architecturally sound pillars seemed to make sense, as they supported both the physicality of the literature and the placing of that physicality within the life-space of the poet/invader. But that’s all hokum, isn’t it?

The room, were its consciousness able to grasp the basic tenets of metaphysics, or literature, would clearly reject such high-falluting concepts as being strictly irrelevant to the process it was experiencing. Does a mother think about the socio-political landscape of expanding humanity in the moment of birth? Does a new nation consider the very concept of identity as it creates its new national anthem, national flag and national system of government. We guess not (but can only guess, being neither a new mother nor a new nation).

The situation of birth, the moment of consciousness, the concept of creation and awake-ness, does not lend itself to analysis easily. In fact, it usually excludes it. We cannot remember our own moment of genesis, neither of form nor of thought. We cannot imagine the concept of non-consciousness, even in ourselves, despite the transparent truth of the matter. Thus to write about the consciousness of a nonhuman form, as a human, is mere folly.

Same Old Day

Phil Anselmo Loaded
Originally uploaded by Dark Hunter.

"I never stoned the crow
Stoned the crow, no no"

I saw Down, and Phil, and P, the first two for the first time at the Astoria on Tuesday. Awesome. No support - just videos of their favourite tracks and bands (Metallica, Sabbath, Led Zep, Slayer) and then all the old tunes.

The second album sounded good live - I should go and buy it I guess. Temptation's Wings, Hail the Leaf and Lifer all led savage moshing. The crowd seemed to sense me and P were up for it and gave us loads of space, which just encouraged us. I haven't moved like that for years. My neck still hasn't recovered. But they showed their mellower side with Jail.

Losing All and Stone the Crow were the best tracks, as ever.

"My lying eyes lie awake"

Eh?

Könnt ihr mich hören
Könnt ihr mich sehen
Könnt ihr mich fühlen
Ich verstehe euch nicht

Wir verstehen euch nicht

So another month has gone by. A pretty crazy month, actually. And now it's hot and the world cup starts this week. What could be better?

Highlights in May:

Mad trip to Paris (see below)
Sisters of Mercy (again below)
Work quiz
Brussels for work (and too knackered to go up to N's party in Ox, sadly)

Dinner with L and N in Oxford - oh the food (5 kinds of ham, cheese souffles, lamb stew with dauphinoise potatoes and chilli fennel, chocolate cheesecake, chocolate and walnut cake, cheese) and the wine!
Across on the bus (classic style) to Cambridge to see E and her baby on the base with M - superb evening preceded by a quick walk around college - no real change

Hugely successful stakeholder meeting for work

Up to Manchester with D to see T
Long, long journey via Sheffield but some brilliant views on Trans-Pennine railway
Kathmandu curry and Old School on Saturday
Didsbury pub lunch (superb) with A on Sunday
Then Felix da Housecat and friends in Sankey's Soap Sunday night
Struggled back on Monday

K's birthday and Camden shenanigans
England 6 Jamaica 0
Lying about in St. James' Park with G
CLWG - down at D's in the sunshine - mmm - Gaza, Space, Angband

And now June stretches forth like a tasty salad.