>Credit to Cam..
>Saw No Country for Old Men last night – brilliantly realised film. very Coen brothers in many ways. what was clear to me though is that this was a novel before. and many people forget the power of books and the unbelievable thought and detail that is produced by one person. films take hundreds of people to make. Cormac McCarthy wrote this book/film and wow how great it was. I dont know if its as great as made out. I loved The Diving Bell and the Butterfly more but thats a personal film.
Important writers McCarthy, Raymond Carver and Don Delillo (to only quote Americans) should receive greater recognition. These guys are true artists and fundamental to societies and how they view themselves. I was shocked by the lack of coverage Norman Mailer got when he died. It was barely a pause. He, along with the men mentioned above lived when writers eemed to matter, when they told us about oursleves.
I’ve just finished The Outsider by Camus for the third time. still, its brilliant, revealing, funny. Is it our modern attention spans? our apparent lack of time? Writers maybe be older men and women, less glamourous than our actors but they are creators not imitators and should be held up amongst the ultimates of each generation.
>Well the issue of club ownership/management at Newcastle has never been understood in the modern Premier League era. Geordies love heroes and Geordies want to be heroes to other Geordies. We saw it with Freddie Shepherd, a local lad who wanted to be loved and thought buying into NUFC would do it. The present chairman Mike Ashley thought the same. But it leads to poor management by modern standards. The heart is still influential when making decisions. Similarly players are lionised in Newcastle and too much sympathy is extended for those wearing the black and white shirts. It also explains why the new chairman wore the shirt rather than a suit. He wanted to be loved; to be part of the mythology.
Other issues surround the fact that Newcastle pays top wages for players. It often has to due to the geography and perceived lack of sophistication to foreign players (read: being away from London). But it pays a lot too often. Once signed players will play for a decent manager and club. The crowd at Newcastle is a drug few choose to give up. No city in England is so devoted to one club.
Right now though the troubles are multiple. Keegan seems in some parallel universe, with a troubled mind. Possibly linked to financial concerns with the football circus venture. Maybe he has faith in the players he has and can only see us getting out of the struggles. Such confidence would be a bonus but I just don’t feel that. The fans need reassuring. A win would be the greatest relief. Failing that, some goals or just some honest, focused words from Keegan, focused on the real issues at hand.
The first choice team is good, certainly mid-table’s worth. There are a lot of poor teams in the Premier League in terms of manpower but they are improving. There seems a lack of leadership throughout the centre of the team; from Given through to Owen and Viduka. Few give out positive vibes. They seem to be running into a gentle headwind; everything being difficult and dysfunctional. Passes are going astray; one-twos are being misread; and the infrequent shots blazing wide. I don’t know where we are going. But it’s clearly not up.
>9 men died of breast cancer in the state of Victoria in 2002. thats the last available statistic. So men, feel your breasts. I am working and at the Cancer Council of Victoria. Its a good job, a quiet place. I had a mild hangover, well, was just in a daze. The beers of the previous night lulled my energies but the memories of the conversations and laughs with LP, the confirmation of friendship and mateship kept me smiling.
Its a well-paid job, gentle to the mind. Just what I needed. For I needed it. I also need some more clothes. Its a casual office, run by women with the odd man lurking behind the walls of his cubicle. Its only temporary right now. So am I. So no worries. I’m excited. I’m going to a short film festival this weekend. with a travelling friend Madeline.
My Dad was 60 years old last week. 60 years. Over 21,900 days. impressive eh? he’s grown in stature if not in girth. he left that to me. I dont know what I owe to my father. not exactly. apart from some money, my genes and my education, its difficult to evaluate for I dont know how. we never know. we just feel.
much to ponder, read, see and savour.