Fireflies

Most evenings, I'm at work til late in Butler Library, inching towards completion of my MA thesis. It's usually dark when I walk back along College Walk. Lined as it is with trees, I usually catch the blinking of one or two fireflies for just the briefest second before they disappear again.

They remind me of nothing so much as a discarded cigarette butt flying through the air.

And there was you thinking I was going to say something romantic and artsy.

On another, completely unrelated note...200 posts! My double-hundred up. Thank you, thank you, I couldn't have done it without you...

Sense and stupidity

I've got nothing much of interest to report over the last week or so, I'm afraid. It's all about the hard yards; I've just been working away in the library and on my thesis, K's gone to Florida for the week (lucky her), and I'm still here watching the World Cup.

Which reminds me, I've been meaning to have a little bit of a rant about the WC so far. It's been pretty good stuff, all things considered - except, of course, when England are playing. And what's concerned me more than anything, really, is that you can sum up virtually all of the last two months for English football with one word. Unfortunately, that word is stupid.

It works on a variety of levels, really. In the Ecuador game, it was a matter of practical stupidity - Paul Robinson's kicks, for example. I don't think I exaggerate when I say that every single one went straight to an Ecuadorian player - in many cases the opposing keeper. Fair enough, you might think, these things happen - but ten or fifteen times? Didn't he notice and think, hang on, better try and distribute a bit better? And in any case - with Rooney as the 1 in a 4-5-1 - who comes in at about 5'6" or thereabouts and was never going to win a decent percentage of knockdowns - it was such a daft idea as to leave me utterly dumbfounded as to why he kept on doing it. Unfortunately, as his outfield companions showed, the instinct for the long ball is just so deeply ingrained in many English footballers that they cannot help it, no matter how inappropriate the circumstances. A bit of thought, boys?

And the manager. What the hell was he doing only taking four forwards, two of whom were not fully fit? Why does he not know his best team or formation? I have until now generally held Eriksson in fairly high regard, but increasingly I'm coming to the conclusion that he's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, either.

And the FA who appointed him. We could have had a world-class manager who actually knows what he's doing replace Sven - namely, Luis Felipe Scolari - but the FA so utterly mishandled the affair that Big Phil got the hell out of dodge as soon as he realised what a bunch of clowns he was dealing with. Instead of a World Cup winner, we now have Steve McClaren, about whom the best thing that can be said is that he didn't get Middlesborough relegated.

And the English media. Before the tournament, we had our best side in 40 years, seven world class players, genuine chance this time. Oh yes. Four games in? Um...

But the stupidest thing of all is that there's a reasonable chance we could actually do the ridiculous and win the whole bloody thing. Portugal have to be weakened by injuries and suspensions - and once you get to the semis, well it's anyone's game...

Not that I'd put money on it, mind you, but mark my words. It's a funny old game.

From river to I-River

In a moment of unparalleled stupidity, I managed to put my MP3 player in the washing machine. And then put it in the drier for an hour as well.

Incredibly enough, it still works perfectly. I salute the makers of the i-River brand of digital music accessories. Well done, sirs.

Staying cool

K and I went down the to the Boat Basin Cafe on Friday night. It's right on the Hudson River, which forms the boundary between New York and New Jersey, and is a wonderful place for a long drink on a warm evening as the sun goes down on the other shore. It was, as it always is when I have been there, absolutely packed; it seems that all of New York had more or less the same idea that we did. Still, we got a table nonetheless...must be that inimitable British charm (cough).















We walked the mile or so back along the Hudson and Riverside Park. It was perfect early summer evening, balmy and fresh, and the park was full of people walking their dogs, barbequeing, playing football, and all sorts of things. Further up, back towards Morningside Heights, one could see the George Washington Bridge lit up along its span, which, along with the sunset and the leisurely walk, made for a quite perfect evening.















The following day, I went downtown to the Nippon Club for a little bit of nostalgia as I helped out with the orienation for new JETs departing from New York. It brought back no end of memories, and of course the peachy-keen bright-eyed young things all champing at the bit to get to Japan reminded many of the JET Alumni present of the shallow, bitter and cynical shells of human beings they have since become. I was responsible for orienting the new CIRs; in the event, there were only a couple of them, so I just sat down with them, had a bit of a chat, and let them ask questions.















I also got involved later on in the afternoon, with what was titled a "cross-cultural exercise", involving various role-play scenarios designed to get the new US JETs thinking about different cultural frameworks in Japan and situations they might encounter. In an inspired piece of casting, I was required to act the part of a scabby old school superintendent and sexually harass a young female ALT. As John F Kennedy might have said, ask not what JET can do for you...

This was followed by Happy Hour at a bar a few blocks away, where I and other JET alumni sank a few cold ones with some of the new recruits, showed off our knowledge about Japan, and generally tried to be as useful as possible. I think I may have been a bit less coherent after the fifth pint, but such is the way of things. I did advise them to encourage the stereotype that Americans always carry firearms, since it might prove useful in controlling the classroom.

And Sunday morning, I got up bright and early to attend the JETAANY brunch for the Japan-Croatia game. 9:00 is a little early in the morning even for me, but I did see this on my way through Greenwich Village. Those of my readers who work in consulting, perhaps the time has come for a career change...?

Ferries and football

Doubtless it will not have escaped my readers' attention that it's the World Cup. For a country that supposedly doesn't pay much attention to 'sawker', it's getting a lot of coverage; I was able to watch England's game on normal broadcast TV, to my delight, instead of getting lagered at 9 a.m. They were pretty bad, though they still managed to win. A good rule of thumb for the England team is that they're never as bad as they seem when they play badly, nor are they as good as they seem when they play well. It's kind of hard to get an objective opinion or a cool head anywhere; the British media were convinced England would win the whole thing, but one unimpressive game later and we're suddenly the worst team in the tournament. A little perspective and objectivity, chaps. Myself? I think many of the England players are vastly over-rated - but the team is definitely among the top four or five at the tournament. So who knows...?

Mike came back from Boston on Saturday, and we went to see the Da Vinci Code downtown for want of anything better to do. It was twaddle from start to finish - as I'd more or less expected it to be - but mildly entertaining twaddle nonetheless. I wholeheartedly agree with those who have said that the dialogue is as leaden as Victorian plumbing, though.


We took the ferry to Staten Island on Sunday, for a view of the island of Manhattan from the south. It's free, mainly by virtue of the fact that no-one in their right mind wants to go to Staten Island. We didn't linger - straight back on the next ferry to Manhattan, a course followed by about two-thirds of the passengers. That's Mike to the right - as you can see, he got all the looks in the family. Brief though my sojourn on Staten Island was, that does now complete my set of all the boroughs of New York City - Manhattan, the Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn and Staten Island. Quite an impressive achievement. Well, not really, but I thought I'd mention it.

O brother, where art thou?

He's in Boston, actually, at least until Friday afternoon. He's gone up to visit our uncle in Cambridge, MA, and should be back in time for the England game on Saturday afternoon. It is, after all, the first game of the World Cup tomorrow, Germany vs. Costa Rica, and I shall be off to watch it in a nearby hostelry. I have a suspicion, given the neighbourhood, that there might be one or two Costa Ricans around to watch as well.

I've been slogging away in the Law library for the most part, doing my thing as usual. It's not a boring job; the time usually passes quite quickly, and there are many worse things I could be doing. And after all, I need the money; it was K's birthday on Tuesday (06/06/06, a number which, while of no real significance, caused a little bit of a stir here), and I took her out for a lavish dinner at a fancy French place. An excellent meal - you get what you pay for.

I was downtown on Sunday, doing some shopping, and saw an advert on the subway; a picture of a peanut butter sandwich with the legend "You don't need a therapist to get in touch with your inner child", and below it, "A friendly reminder from the peanut grower's association of America". Maybe I've been watching too much of the Sopranos recently, but the phrase "friendly reminder" did make me think that I might be losing one or more kneecaps if I didn't eat more peanuts.

In other news - and I know it's not really my business any more - but I had word of the whackjob from one of the girls I see occasionally in the Law library, who lives on what used to be my floor. Apparently, though his lease expired on the 31st May, he's still there - he never made any attempt to leave or gain an extension. He's been asked to leave, and if he doesn't they'll apparently call the police and have him evicted. I suppose that means he'll literally be out on the street. However much of a pain he may have been, nobody wants to see that happen - but if I were a betting man, I'd put money on that being the eventual outcome. I know, I don't live there any more and it's not my business...but I suppose it just shows what a complete mess Columbia made of the whole thing.

I saw Steven Spielberg's Close Encounters of the Third Kind yesterday evening. Never seen it before, I'm ashamed to admit, but I have to say that I got the distinct impression that the cast, crew and most of the reviewers must have been on some pretty powerful mind-enhancing drugs for most of it.

Up steps the weekend

I can't say it's been an exciting last few days. I'm working extra hours at my job in the law library (legally, if anyone from the Department of Homeland Security is reading this. Lovely chaps, they do a great job), mainly with a view to buying a ticket back to the US after I go home for a month in July. I've more or less finished off my term papers, and now I've got to get my actual thesis complete. I've been saying that it's about 80% complete, which isn't strictly true...it still needs a fair bit more work, but I have about seven weeks left before I head back to Blighty.

It's hot, sultry and rainy here right now, reminding me of nothing so much as Japan in the rainy season. Summer storms are in vogue right now; barely a day goes by without a rumble of thunder somewhere along the line. There is, it's true, a certain majesty and even a sensual beauty about the storms; unfortunately, they don't make it any less humid like they tend to do back home once they've passed. And you should see the amount of grime that the rain brings down with it...we are, after all, right in the heart of the metropolis.

My brother is coming to town for ten days or so on Sunday. I haven't seen him since Christmas, and he will be the first of what will likely be many new guests in my new apartment. And to celebrate this momentous occasion - we'll be havin' ribs.