The Spiritual Buddy.

"Buddy, receiving a well earned stroke"

I sit on a deckchair in the corner of my garden; drinking a warm cup of English tea on a chilly October morning, and looking to the concrete paving. I am in a more negative frame of mind than usual, and pondering life with an abject sadness. As happens to us all from time to time, the daily grind of life has caught me at a low, and I am hoping my silent garden thinking will lift my spirits. But today, it all feels impossible.

 
Finishing my tea, admitting defeat, and raising myself to stand, I suddenly spot a dainty little figure; high on a distant fence, and watching me with curious intent. It is Buddy – the neighbourhood cat. I have not seen him since I mowed my lawn a few weeks previous; upsetting him and less-forgiving moggy associate, Fatty. To them it was their jungle - and I had no permission to cut it down. I wonder if he is still angry at me?

 

In comparison to Fatty, Buddy is friendly and passive, and has always had this unique habit of turning up when I am at my most worried. On a birthday morning I spent all by lonesome, he was there as company. The day I was riddled with nerves before my first ever driving test, he turned up to calm me down. And even after a pointless heated argument with my girlfriend I had created out of ego, he arrived to let me know all is understood; and I am only a meager hooman who sometimes makes mistakes, not a regal cat, who is of course, perfect. These are just a few examples, but due to recent events, I am uncertain of his current feelings towards me. 

As I say a cautious hello from the distance, Buddy relieves my fears; deciding to do as he always does. He hops off the fence into my garden, strolls up to me in his dainty, elegant manner, and then brushes the side of his head against my leg; allowing me to give him a collection of strokes and attentions. For the next ten minutes we are the best of friends. He jumps up for entertainment and more strokes, I tickle his belly as he shows his trust by exposing it to me, and then I feed him some delicious tuna noms; because I know how much he loves eating fish. During this time all my feelings of sadness and negativity disappear, purely because of Buddy's calming presence; suddenly, the day seems bright and beautiful again. We part ways, and as I wish him a good day, the sun peers out to the Earth from behind a cloud, presenting warmth; much like Buddy had peered out to me from behind the neighbours fence,with the exact same offering.

Buddy is, like all cats, magical, and carries a spiritual power us humans cannot rationally comprehend. Cynics may argue he does it just for the noms, but looking in his expressive, loving eyes, I know his visit is from the purest depths of his little kitty heart. From a distance he could feel my sadness, and wanted to remind me that all is forgiven, and everything is going to be okay; after seeing Buddy, life always is. 

Fatty on the other hand, is nowhere to be seen. I assume it may take a little more than strokes and noms, to earn his forgiveness...

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The 80's Children.

"80's toys - awesome as always!"

Being born in 1981, I always saw the retrospective 1970's as a downbeat period for a child to have grown up in. Sure, it had disco, Dirty Harry, and a cool collection of American rock bands, but it's difficult to escape the depressing sixties hangover feel which defines it; when a disillusioned young lost all direction, whilst wearing flared trousers and tank tops.

The 1990's I view as a more grown-up, introspective version of the 1970's; an era defined by the self-deprecation of grunge music, reality based indie flicks, paranoid conspiracy theorists, and Bill Clinton’s cigar. While a generation of incredible artistic merit, it also took itself far too serious; feeding its children a bland diet of mashed potato without any sausages, and only a glass of water for liquid refreshment. A time for thought perhaps, but leaving very little left for fun.

Of course, In their own ways all postcards of history have value, and those offended by my summaries of either, feel free to explain their awesomeness in the comments section. Nonetheless, the point of this article is to explain why, in my view, there was no better time to be young, then the middle-child of these decades; the 1980's. A decade which - while adults may view as a self-absorbed and ego-driven time; loaded in nuclear terror, greed, and riots - which primarily, it was. When it came to being a child of the 1980’s? None of this registered nor mattered, and life, absolutely rocked! For an 80's kid, everything was awesome...

Culturally, the 1980’s was an exploded rainbow; sitting across the sky with an odd kind of chaotic beauty. From this rainbow – developed through a mixture of technology and shifts in societal change, came a free-for-all in colourful, crazy, and creative expression; which I feel the depths and levels of have no equal. Muppet Babies, Dirty Dancing, Punky Brewster, The Breakfast Club, Michael Jackson, MTV, Bon Jovi, Garbage Pail Kids, Wrestlemania, Ghostbusters, Nintendo, He-Man, ET, Gummi Bears, Back To The Future, Alf, Slush Puppies, The Karate Kid, The Terminator; the list is a vast swarm of wild and wacky forms of entertainment, impossible to create in any other era. Even now when you ask anybody to define a historical centre for popular culture, they instantly say, the 80's.

"No caption needed"

Maybe it was an escape from all those grownup fears, or just a time where the world went a little bananas. Whatever the reason, in the 1980's, the more outlandish it was, the better it was received. Personally, I believe it was the result of a global conscience reacting to a time not too far but not too close to a new millennium; unsure of the future - or if they even had one, and simply deciding to throw everything in the mix; resulting in movies about men traveling through human bodies, aliens multiplying when wet, and truffle shuffles, to name a select few (and have an excuse to show a picture of Chunk from the Goonies).

And this is the beauty of being a child of the 80’s. We were creatively spoiled in an era where the only rules of expression, were that there were no rules of expression. If decades are teachers, the 1980's was the carefree janitor who took charge when the strict 1970's went on holiday; giving all the students Carte blanche over the previously locked up paint cupboards, until he returned as the 1990's and cleaned everything up. While we had the same miserable pressures the adult world pointlessly creates for itself; as much as any other decade, we also had such a wealth of vibrancy in art, culture, fashion and idea, it was an easy pleasure to lose ourselves in Thundercats, My Little Pony, or Knight Rider; and just not give a shit about Russian nukes and Wall Street Journals.

It was colourful, crazy, and the pinnacle of how ingenious popular culture can be, when it simply decides to let its hair down, throw off the shoes, and dance like a wild man on acid; without worrying about how many coins will be thrown his way. And for this, our generation are all the better for it. If the 1990’s were a grown up 1970’s, then the 1980’s were the 1960’s in stereo, while on steroids. Sometimes, getting lost in art, is not always a bad thing. Especially when you realize just how bloody awful being an adult was, during this decade. Maybe I shouldn't have been so hard on the 70's and 90's, after all...

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Two Minute Reading: Coincidence.

"Planet Earth"

The universe is an infinite, timeless space, containing an estimated 3 trillion planets. One of these planets is known as Earth, and is where all human life exists. Human life on Earth is over 3.5 billion years old; yet our lives exist for barely a century within this time frame. 

Today in 2013, during this short yet wonderful time we have; upon the lands of a planet 8,000 meters in diameter, there are almost 7 billion human beings dancing in various forms. Joining us on this journey are animals, plants, trees, wind, rain, and myriads of nature contained within one tiny microcosm of our solar system.

And yet right here, right now, through all the possibilities, chances, odds and potentials, you sit here on your mobile phone or laptop, reading this post; one of over a million newly created articles on the internet today, of a total 4.1 billion possible web-pages. Much like all the friends we have, places we go, entertainment we enjoy, and jobs we undertake, a small step in another direction, a finger clicked here, a dropped napkin there, or an extra moment in bed, and the entire construct of your life may well have been an entirely different concept… 

But it isn’t. It was never meant to be. And like all those friends you have, places you go, entertainment you enjoy, and jobs you undertake, they are with you because they are meant to be; helping or guiding one another like moving bridges, across waters often murky and uncertain. They shall offer - as much as you do to them, a knowledge which will one day be of invaluable use in either life; making perfect sense then in a way impossible now, and all part of a much larger picture of existence.

The universe is infinite; and far too vast to be built on sheer coincidence. To even the smallest detail, everything happens for a reason. And this post is to remind us all of an often forgotten knowledge, that complete control is an illusion; and how we need to let the notion go, in order to find our true hearts desire. And that even if it doesn't always make sense, there is always a meaning behind the winds of life...

Just don’t ask me the reasons why; it is up to you to figure this one out…

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Except For Gary Neville.

Gary Neville. That’s it…

"Rubbish? We're top of the league"

Considering ideas for this article, I am compiling a mental list of football ‘experts’, who in my view analyse Arsenal Football Club – and every other professional side, in a fair, level-headed manner. I don’t mean writers, bloggers and hobbyists; who appeal to specific fan-bases of clubs they support, and tend to stay within that framework. I refer to operators of a national scale; tabloid newspapers, radio broadcasters, and the Julius Caesar of them all, commercial television. Due to their potential audience reach – and let’s face it, they are the only true middle man between footballs internal workings and its fans, they carry a responsibility to provide rational, unbiased analysis, in an impartial manner. The trouble is, they don’t. Except for Gary Neville, that is…

This past Tuesday, Arsenal received their yearly champions league showing on ITV against last season’s beaten finalists, Borussia Dortmund. A tight affair, and by no means a vintage gunners performance, they still impressed; and were unlucky to lose by a solitary sucker-punch from a top-quality German outfit. Suffering through Kent’s favourite Irishman Andy Townsend, and his match-long petty Arsenal digs, I was then subjected to a disinterested Roy Keane, reactionary Ian Wright, and worst of all, the once acceptable Lee Dixon, discussing how - due to a bad moment in the office, Arsenal are not a ‘top-side’. “Not a top-side” A club currently at the head of our national game, beaten twice in thirteen matches, and containing the number one assist maker in Europe; I am certain even if they played God as a centre-forward, Moses on the left-wing, and Mahatma Gandhi in goal, it still wouldn't be enough. It’s disappointing, but after a decade of my eyes and ears pounded with this deceptive nonsense – designed to convince us that chocolate cake actually tastes like shit; and vice versa, in the case of Tottenham Hotspur, I - like most dignified Arsenal fans, let it slide.

Yesterday, Arsenal defeated Crystal Palace 2 – 0; a standard win, but a win nonetheless. Instead of BBC’s Match Of The Day discussing the growing strength of Ramsey and Giroud, the confidence driven by the arrival of Özil, or the re-emergence of the engine called Flamini, we were subjected to a vast array of negative bullshit; discussing the clubs poor technique (going so far as to reference a 2010 clip; hilariously showing Samir Nasri in the red – am guessing they will use Gascoigne 1991 next week), dodgy decisions apparently in Arsenal’s favour, and that Arsenal – in Alan Hansen’s exact words “have no chance” of winning the Premier League. If you joined the broadcast during their analysis, you would be forgiven for thinking the review was of a Wimbledon circa 1987 encounter.

On the flip-side to this, Manchester United – who barely struggled to defeat an average Stoke side, at fortress Old Trafford; and were shown before Arsenal - as they inevitably always are, were labelled as heroic and back to their best. In reality, if both teams current positions were reversed, Lineker and co would bellow about how ten-man Manchester United ground out three-points, against a gallant side containing players looking to showcase their talents, and how Arsenal’s celebrations in beating Stoke; as if they had won the FA Cup, shows how low their relative ambitions are. This is not a criticism of Manchester United; they are still the lynch-pins of English football. But even their most ardent of fan would admit they struggle in this transitional, post-Ferguson phase. Not only do we have to put up with this nonsense, but also watch on as these ‘experts’ defend their own clubs to the hilt; no matter how piss-poorly they are run, Alan Shearer.

"West Ham, always drawing"

And this is where Gary Neville is a welcome breath of fresh air. While a player who divided opinion - like many honest people; see Wenger, Arsene. He will openly credit and criticise Manchester United in an equal and constructive manner; as well as Arsenal, and any other club whose matches he reviews. Instead of letting moronic issues of ego get in the way, he calls the game right down the middle, and teaches in the meantime. I am not sure what exactly “they have no chance”, teaches anybody about anything; except how Michael Thomas, 1989, is clearly still a major force in the mind of Alan Hansen.

This is the sad constant of being an Arsenal fan. No matter how hard the gunners work, or trophies they win, the media will always find a way to criticise their success. As much as no matter how awful Spurs and co become, they will twist it to justify poor performances; as if we are too stupid to realise. Of course, this trend of negativity also happens - for various reasons, to many other clubs and separate players; when was the last pro-Benetiz article in the Daily Mail? 

The media favour certain clubs over others, and try their hardest to hard sell favourites, whilst burying the rest. These 'experts' are paid good money to provide fair analysis on a regular basis. Whether due to pressure from their corporate driven employers; with their own hidden agenda (BBC Lee Dixon was much fairer to Arsenal, then his sound-bite driven ITV clone), a lack of intelligence to break down aspects of the game they once played, or sheer immature ignorance in giving credit where due, it just goes to show that the level-playing field of life we are conditioned to believe as children to be absolute, is about as even as a shelf built by Mister Bean. Mass media football analysis is a complete waste of time; most fans understand football matches themselves anyway, and do little more than create ugly fantasies around the beautiful game’s reality. Our world would be much richer without them.

Except for Gary Neville, that is…

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