I can’t actually remember the last time I was even vaguely excited about a game between the Tiges and the Blues. Those former powerhouse teams, the team that eats its own young and the one that long ago sold its own soul. Must have been the '82 Grand Final.
Of course I don’t actually give a rat’s arse about the Game tonight, more what it signifies... Rebirth.
It may just be the uncomfortable seat I’ve been sitting in, the particular colouration of the scratchy scarf I’ve been wearing for much of my earthly existence, more-so of late, but there is a sniff of freshness about this season.
The smell of muddy children being thrown to wolves, breastmilk still dripping from their lips. The sense that these undeveloped forms and brains can be espaliered into something fine, something useful, something that will get us all the fuck out of the mundane, inescapable groundhogness we’ve all somehow got ourselves into.
It seems the unwelcome stormcloud over yonder, the cloud with the GoldCoast lining, the cold, cold change that will bring nothing but doom, has at least provided a Last-Days-on-Earth mentality in some quarters. A Final-Dash-Now-That-Nothing-Matters-Anymore logic. Lets buy up the young, lets euthanase the old, let’s tell that girl on the bus we’ve always loved her skimpy dress-sense and see where the fuck it takes us.
There’s a universal sense of joyous doomsday panic. Reading the internets machine today it seems the Americans have already packed their bags and resigned themselves to destruction, to The Rapture, all because someone wants them to be able to go to a doctor when they get sick. Stupid fascist bastards.
There is trouble on a biblical scale. Children are carrying knives, there are earthquakes, rising water, bushfires, blizzards, mudslides, hail and bad hair. Girls have taken over popular music and turned it to crap.
The walls are shaking, the earth is quaking, my mind is aching. So Hell let’s go make it.
The end is nigh, but it’s all just about to start.
Welcome to PunchDrunk 2010.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Espaliered? Who are you working with now Rich? i had to go to Wikipedia (the Funk'n'Wagnalls are rotting in the shed) to work out what you were on about.
ReplyDeleteFor the readers wondering the same - but wont admit they didn't know - here's the first sentence.....
Espalier is the horticultural technique of training trees through pruning and grafting in order to create formal "two-dimensional" or single plane patterns by the branches of the tree.
You getting that "word of the day" email too?
Nah mate, I just make it up as I go along.
ReplyDelete