Monday, June 13, 2005
Mike

As I sit here typing a jury has just just acquitted Michael Jackson of all charges. The night before last Mike Tyson was stopped by a bum and ended his career in the mediocrity that many great champions find themselves facing. Of Jackson I know only what is shown on TV and in the press, I'm not a fan of his music and the transformation that superstardom created makes him to me a singly grotesque and odd individual who even if not guilty passes far too close to the border for me to hold anything other than doubt and revulsion. Tyson itwill be argued can be described in the same terms and I'm not here to excuse any of the vile things he has done but I would add a cautionary note. Mike Tyson was a punk, he was born mean, got treated mean and gave it back twice as hard. He had a great life and he threw it away but there is a strange sympthy I hold for Mike Tyson. It is more than the man who had it all and lost it, it is the punk who never knew what he had until it was gone, an animal in a businessrun byzoo keepers who was paraded and thenput down when he mauled the gathered masses. A circus freak who never asked to be under the big top. Most telling was the comment he made after losing, hopefully, this last time:

"I don't know what I am going to do. I know I am broke. I haven't really thought about what's next. All I know is, that is it. No more boxing. I have been a full-time boxer since I was about 13 and I am tired. My body can't take it any more. I don't knowwhat the next part of the plan is. I live every day like it is my last."

So he has come full circle, from nothing to top of the world to nothing, and what will we remember? The invincible young thug who tore up the record books, the baddest man on the planet, the rapist, the ear-biter, the boxer. At no time will anyonewonder where the human being wasin all this - and that makes Mike Tyson right now the saddest man on the planet.

Posted by Owen Jones 2005-06-13 17:58:49

Sunday, June 12, 2005
Yet another dreams blog

Yep, Bridgend was hot on Saturday night and it had nothing to do with the scantily clad fancy dress party I went to. The temperature was high and the air was real close, so add in a little alocohol and bedroom activity and you have the perfect conditions for some wild land of nod action. I woke this morning to find I'd jotted down some crazy shit on my notepad, from which I made the following (I challenge anyone to make sense of it :)

The hill stands seemingly indomitable, at the apex a black figure looms over the hill, indistinct yet worryingly recognisable. I am free, the nature of life flows through my body, pulsating power, an insatiable desire burns deep radiating outwards eternity. A strong wind blows in across my cheek, long mocking laughs echo into my ear. I laugh back. He is here, he would say he has always been here. I believe him now

For now I see, the road has only one end and only one keeper. But there is no reason to stop. I have come as close as I may without causing attention. Yet now recognition has found me and there is no turning back. The figure grows as he walks down the road and as I stride up it. Two sentinels of darkness on a course that only goes one where. There is a distinct familiarity to this scene, not prophetic but as an encapsulation of life. Moments of a life’s time spent, that in microcosm represent the whole. A choice of what you wish to remember yourself as, picture frames for forever. These moments are mine. The laughing continues but it is background noise now, as the heart slows its pumping of the chemicals necessary to overcome fear. Strangely I thought I no longer had need of them. He comes. As I bear witness to the scene outside of myself I realise this is truly him and I, a classical meeting of two lost souls on the barren road to no-when, a time beyond the universe yet within the world.

I begin to understand the appeal of forever, no change is easy and no significant change comes without pain. I have suffered at the altar of happiness long enough to know I have paid my dues, have offered both fee and bonus to get me to this point. He is upon me. And I stand, as I must, while the frozen sword slides through my body, which reacts with the most feral of cries. I have become. As he falls dead to the ground I smile, every order must change and now freedom is assured, all I have to do is walk away. My next step up the hill loosens some bones

Posted by Owen Jones 2005-06-12 17:52:14

Saturday, June 11, 2005
It's been a bad day

For those new to this plane of the multiverse the above means only one thing - rugby rant, so buckle up. First off the Lions lost, had to happen and rather now than later. But I have, unsuprisingly, a few grumbles. Like what the hell is up with the refereeing? Rugby once you know the rules is simple, this nonsense over interpretation is ridiculous - if someone is using their hands off their feet in a ruck, its a penalty. Offside and then involving themselves in play is a penalty, killing the ball is a penalty, persistent offense is a yellow card. For three international referee's Deeker, Honiss and Walsh are about as amateur as they come and as parochial. None of which excuses the simple failings of CW's sides. Simple I hear you wonder. Yep simple, any fool who has played ten minutes of rugby can see it - we are not commiting sufficient numbers to the breakdown to secure quick, clean ball. This is not happening for two reasons, firstly we are dumb enough to operate a pod system while our opponents simply overload the breakdown. Secondly many of the forwards are dragging ass, they are too unfit and too slow to get there. They don't like the hard graft. So much for best prepared Lions tour, they couldn't win a ruck against two men this morning. What a nonsense, all the best hard-yard forwards aren't on the tour or didn't play. Well they certainly got a wake-up call.

The other issue I have is style of play. We don't have one plain and simple, too many lazy, clueless forwards getting in the way of the backs and cluttering the field. Resultingly we have backs going into rucks doing forwards jobs. Shane Williams had zero ball this morning, ditto Shanklin and Lewsey, all they did was clean out rucks and made a better fist of it than the bloody forwards. It's embarassing, especially to hear CW say we have things to work on. Your not impressing anyone Clive, grow the fuck up, we have less than two weeks to prepare a Lions team to face the best team in the world and right now I'd tip Fiji to run us close. There seems to be no clear understanding of what players and combinations are being looked at, there are too many players in the squad so everyone hasn't played enough rugby and there is no distinct pattern of play for the squad to focus on imporving. Instead we have a mish-mash of jack and shit that isn't going to frighten a Welsh second string, let alone an All Blacks team that looks to have a frightening balance of speed and power. The AB's are two even three levels above the Maori. So amazingly three games into the tour and in a case, I hope, of ramming both feet into my mouth, I'm going to ask where it all went wrong and the simple answer falls straight at the feet of CW. Sorry 'mate' but you just plain got it wrong. Enough of the smug interviews, time to hold your hand up and sod off to the softies game.

Posted by Owen Jones 2005-06-11 20:04:32

Friday, June 10, 2005
Old habits

I remember the date I bought my first computer games magazine, it was June 16th 1992 andthe magazinewas C&VG. I know because I just sold it the other day. I bought it in what used to be the old shop down the road from where we live, it was in the 'days' when a Mars Bar cost 15p and penny sweets actually cost a penny. The wonder of seeing the medium of computer games as a kid was something else, there was an addictive factor that I am still hard pressed to fully explain to people. In the same way people don't understand how someone can like boxing. Although computer games is now mass media and socially acceptable - at least as far as casual gaming goes anyway - there is I guess some stigma at being a twentysomething playing games regularly. To this end I thought I'd slowly moved away from gaming but the recent E3 show has proved, if anything, my addiction is worse not better. And I don't care, because the only difference between that kid being bought his first C&VG and the supposed adult with a beard who looks oddly out of place buying handfulls of magazines in Smiths, is time, and for everything that changes, somethings remain the same.

Posted by Owen Jones 2005-06-10 19:12:10

Thursday, June 9, 2005
Influences

I get wound up by politics a lot, I really have some serious issues regarding the serious issues and oft times this spills over to stupid ranting. Yesterday I topped it all, my father and I have differing opinions on the current state of the nation and it got heated. In the end he told me to sod off and complain to someone else, which I did by sending an attempt (not to successful) at being snide and witty regarding the topic of yesterdays blog., to several major newspapers letters column. I open my parents paper, the Daily Express, today and there is my letter right in the old man's eyeline. It was classic, I gave him the finger just to make sure and walked out. In retrospect it was utterly stupid and a conceited gesture but if nothing else it proves that if you care enough about something you can change it - even if it is only a small letter in a newspaper. Its the first thing I've had published this year :)

Posted by Owen Jones 2005-06-09 19:10:04