Life changes at every signal.

You know I haven't really taken the time to blog a lot. I surf and lurk about, and I have found the most popular blogs are those dealing with how you like to fuck someone whom you don't know, whom you never met, who lives on the other side of the world and you have no idea what they look like. But they write great foreplay. It would involve being unfaithful, cause terrible guilt, end in divorce, but by christ the orgasm would be worth it. ......? Hello blog world? Yes I have good sex, not enough, but I am not going to tell you all about it here, not in this guise anyway. Yes I have posted information regulary here, but apparently it's not blogging unless it's deeply personal and definitely sexual.....hmmmn.( Why don't I have a pseudo?)
It does however seem appropriate to tell you two things, and neither of them are related to sex, unless a) you fuck in your car, and b) after 40 your sex life took on a whole new meaning.
See I woke up this year sometime around Paddy's day, and realised I am no longer a kid. This year I am 39 years old. Virgo/Libra cusp... so how the fuck am I only getting around to doing my driving theory test this week?
It's a question I ask myself a lot. I have spent my life doing what? Apart from trying to pursue dreams and then plans at various different stages, I have actually been pretty practical. My adult life was basically working in an expensive but bascially small captial city, so I was priced out of a car/insurance and didn't really have the need either. I occupied myself making friends, none of whom I am in contact with now, I had some religous experiences to follow up on and I now I am lapsed. Then I was blocked into university exams, then I was trying to make a career,then I was having a kid, getting married, then I was moving to France, then I was learning French and getting separated, and now I have learned french, and I look back and think how fucked up and badly planned has all of that been? How did I get this lucky?...Well I don't know, but I have my theory exam next Thursday morning, I think I am allowed to get 4 questions out of 40 wrong. Don't get me wrong I got 40/40 in Ireland, but that doesn't count. I drove for a year in Ireland on a provisional licence, but this is France, it doesn't count. The questions can be very tricky even for those who speak the langauge, however I am plunging in and still it might not count. So Hopefully for my 39th birthday this year I am giving myself a driving licence. It doesn't matter a damn if I can drive or not, just as long as I past the test. Most people here think indicators are Christmas decorations, and overtaking on the inside is a national sport. So too, is parking in a space half the size of your car. Lots of dents in cars here by the way. So it's the driving licence for me and learing the signals.
The other signals are that I am nearly 40, what does that mean? I still miss people I knew when I was 18, and probably still think of myself that way too. I wonder how they have all changed? Being 40 probably means nothing if you are 60 but I am not. What does been 40 mean? Well I guess I should get to 39 first and feel that one out for a while. Just like my partner who has a licence but has me beside her giving advice on how to drive ( the brazen cheek of me) , I should probably not mention 40 again until it's here. Like I shouldn't tell her how to drive till I pass my test and even then I should be very careful. You see life changes and the signals are there, I am just trying to read them early and to get the head start that never happened for one who was born 7th.

Neneh Cherry - 7 seconds and a Million voices in Nice.

The Nice Jazz Festival is anything but Jazz.
Tonight we witnessed, experienced, and tasted the talents of Joe Jackson, Beat Assilant(sorry I don't know who they are), CIRKUS featuring Neneh Cherry, wow.....let me pause for a moment Neneh Cheery.........wow. Oh and Randy Newman. If my kid was there he would have asked for Monsters Inc.
Now it has been a strange but wonderful weekend and to inform you of all I have done would take too much time so lets concentrate on the music. A friend met her man inside who was one of the riggers, and the first words out of his mouth were JJ was shit, so the company didn't really want to hang around, I was dissappointed but delighted with the bits I heard which although unkown were damn good. I think the 'Is she really going out with him?' is about the only song everyone knows, check him out here, it was a good gig and although people seemed to be sparse on the ground everyone was having a good time of sitting on the grass, looking at olive trees and easy listening,....I know it sounds weird, but take my word for it, you had to be there.
Afer some reasonably priced beer 25cl on tap or 33 in a can both for 3 euros (??? ) we waltzed into the arena. The french are very particular about their music. If there is a seat they will sit. Sit they did. Some of the most body popping, hip hopping, soul dropping, politically aware riffs and beats swam over the crowd from the CIRKUS and the only one digging the jive apart from the greats on stage seemed to be yours truly, In fact the audience was so dead it turned into a night long rap between me and the band.... I exaggerate, but only mildly. Neneh made the point it was a shame they couldn't communicate in french, I offered to translate, and she thought about it for a second, or maybe a half a second, or maybe I flatter myself. Basically a lot of new music, great great great stuff. The rapport between the band members, the children of the musicans, and the audience was typically french. Those on stage had a blast, while I had a lady behind me tell me sit down, its a seated concerted. I told her to stand up as it was music debout, stood up music,. She glared Neneh smiled and I had a blast. Sorry to Nenehs man, you were great with your dedication of the song 'Asshole'to George bush. I wondered later if it's why Randy Newman tried his new song, informing us they weren't all that bad. Also a dedication to those in Beruit and rightly so I thought.
Newman was fun, he was on late, but half way through he got maudlin and with work crying in the morning, I wondered about his political correctness, singing about short people, 'niggers' and rednecks and it got just a wee bit tiring. He also sang the song about the apparent, hipocrasy of freedom and what rednecks think. I was shocked as I usually am when I hear that N word, and at the end of the night I was left wondering was he serious or tounge in cheek?
It was a great set of gigs, no matter what your politics, a shame there wasn't any jazz, great to hear some political music again and hopefully CIRKUS and Ms Cherry and co will continue. So if you are around next summer and wondering where you could possible hand out on warm summer nights, don't worry there is no jazz, no shakespear, but plenty of good gigging.

Northern thoughts in the Summery South.

You know often I think some people visit blogs out of a morbid fascination about how other people live their lives. The people who write probably like me have nothing better to do that is taking their time, or perhaps like me feel they have something to share, or perhaps like me, like to show off a bit, or even like me, just do it for the hell of it. Many people write about GOD. Some people write about their own lives in a foreign country and how they are fitting in. The ones that get the most comments are I have found, the ones that have pics of naked people, erect cocks, naked boobs, and the subject is porn, sex, and all the variations therein. These blogs are not necessarily dedicated to the joys of the body but certainly lean heavily that way. And why the hell shouldn't they write or post this stuff, God knows, just like me, the human is drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Some of it seems to be hotter than earthly flame but what the heck, you want traffic in this world, apparently a bit of skin is the way to go. ....
I sit here in a darkened room a light (too light) breeze blowing in the window, it's about 30C inside and tomorrow will be about 42 outside in the Sun. There is a lot of sun and sun worshippers. Even in this heat, on the beaches, young horny men eye up the often topless not necessarily horny, women, (the old horny men do to). That's just during lunch break Monday to Friday.
We all try to dress as coolly as possible and I don't mean style here either. Few clothes, see through clothes, strong smells, glistening skin and fumes scent the hot summer air. People appear lazy but in truth they don't operate well in these extremes. Night time the towns are alive and throbbing because it's bearable, the beaches again crowded with a different group of people, the jelly fish move away from the coast. They hide waiting for the water to heat up again at first light and sting painfully, any foolish enough to cross the path of their invisible scorching tenticles.
These are the thoughts of a Man from the North living in the Summery South. :

So what is so phoney about war?

I read today a Mid page liner on the bbc news website.
It says 'The phoney war' written in that exact way. It reports how Syrians feel about Israeli/Lebonese war.
The story is written by Marting Asser and is in fact called 'All quiet on the Syrian front'.
Here's the link Now will someone please tell me who the idiot is who decides to link to this story by calling the war phoney.
A phoney anything is something that isn't what it is pretending to be. May all the gods help all the people to come out of this? Can you Israelis just stop for a moment and see what you are doing? You are the stronger ones so it's your responsibility to stop. Can the phoney who made this headline resign and go and do something he or she is good at?
Perhaps you are just a victim of the times that people don't give a shit anymore.

NO to racism and anti semitism

'Israel is demanding Hezbollah free two Israeli soldiers. More than 60 Lebanese have been killed in the offensive.'
This is taken from the BBC news website today the 14th July. It's Bastille day in France. 60 people have lost their lives because 2 have been held hostage.
I am not racist, having learned at hands of those who are what that is like. Neither am I anti semite which I understand is to be against jews and their religion.
I am simply human and this action is beyond unjust. How can a nation of people so unjustly persecuted even today, happily follow a policy of wanton unjustified destruction of its neighbours? Stop it now. You have no excuses. I mean NO excuses. Where are the men and women who are able to stand up and with the wisdom of solomon strive to make peace with the men and women who live next door. We will all finish blind toothless and cripled following this policy. Please I beg you. Stop it now.

Bob Dylan ( You have gone your way, I'll go mine)

I was wondering what to call this small piece.
I had some ideas, like 'The Night Woodstock proved it was dead'but that was just too long. Then I thought of 'There must be some way out of here.........said the joker to the thief but he kept playing for a moment and then shuffled off. Then of thought of 'The times they aren't just a changing, they went a got a full body and brain transplant and are living near St Tropez somewhere'.
What am I talking about? You see we just came back from a Bob Dylan Concert in a closed arena in Le Cannet. Yes I got to see the Legend on stage, albeit from a side view only. I was in front of the stage but the maestro seemed to think the front of stage was off left behind the drummer.
The show wasn't really a show per say, It was Bob Dylan with a bunch of musicians who played music from 8pm sharp till just before 10pm. Now let me explain, on the Cote D'Azur traffic is so bad, nothing ever starts on time, and for 45 euro a ticket there is usally a support band. Seems old Bob got punctual along the way somewhere.
MY lady was feeling bad as they forbid us to bring in the 2 litres of water we had brought with us, telling us it was the artists desire that it be so. They said drink it on the spot or it goes in the bin. My hard earned money wasn't going in bin. It went back to the car. I looked at my girl who was no hot and thirsty, so I told her to Lay, Lay across the big dirty floor, but instead she went and searched out water at the bar for which she paid 4 euros for Litre. Geeze Bob I hope you got a cut from that price hike. We have now spent 100 euros to see the Master who doesn't look at his audience, or even acknowledge them, or speak to them till the end of the show. He tells us who the musicians are. He doesn't even say the word thanks, or Merci, or even fuck you. It's 30 degrees Centigrade in the room, the only air conditioning is the open door about 200 meters away. Mr Dylan sings in a style which can only be described and mumbling jumbo, and if you didn't know the song you wouldn't know where he was. Even some of those I did know I figured he was changing the lines but still couldn't follow. Hey a title, 'Bob sings chinese dialect on the Cóte'? naw I couldn't tell it was chinese either.
In between each song the lights came on. At the start of each song they went out. Now I should have been better prepared. I wasn't going to see a legend. The 20 somethings all reacted when I said I was going to see Dylan, 'Is he still alive'they said. Okay they are french kids of 21 st century really so I could sort of understand....actually I couldn't.
I couldn't understand either how Dylan in his old age seems to have sold out lock stock and smoking barrels, guns, rockets, and space ships. It appears he has wound 'up on cripple creek' really. Maybe he had stage fright but I don't think so. I understand personalities, but hey Bob you are a very rich man.
It takes me a full days work and then some to earn the money we spent to see you tonight in an overheated, sparsely crowed (yes there was a lot of space) auditorium with bad sound.You probably earned more in 2 hours than I do in 2 years or even 6 years.
I expected more from what I have heard from Legend. Sadly I was dissappointed. I text my buddy in Ireland on the way home along the 'endless highway'. I was awed but dissappointed at the same time. I told him Woodstock was dead. He replied that maybe Dylan was Dead, Woodstock will live for ever.
Oh Well Bob nice hat, send it to me if you ever read this piece and show me I am wrong. I would wear it with pride. But then the music machine perhaps won't allow you to know just how far down the road you drifted away from your original self. I hate the music industry. There is a way out of here, and you may be a joker but I certainly aint the thief. But I will think twice Bob cause it aint all right.

The hero shows he is a man.

I am outraged and disgusted. I am so dissappointed.
Yes I am still on football. It's over, the Italians won, well done, the city is quiet in my quarter. I am gutted. I have watched him for years. He graced our screens and world stages with an intelligence unmatched in the sport, and not just for the sport.
Tonight he turned around and dropped some guy with a headbut to the chest. Why?
Zizou how can I tell my son you are an example to be followed? Now every young non white French guy and a lot of white french guys will take this as permissable behaviour.

The English web press are reporting the end of the career of Zinedine Zidane in disgrace. The are talking about a needless, unforgiveable, unexcuseable headbut. As usual they are talking bollocks.

I saw it, and yes I agree to a point, it was disgraceful. But I can dream and imagine into what I saw. If I was the greatest player in the world who had come out of retirement, and succeeded almost single handedly in getting my team and my country to qualify for the world cup, then played crap in one match, got subsituted in the next, was banned for two yellow cards in the third, as the world spoke about me falling out with my trainer and that in short this was a world cup to far and I was finished,.........then I play to knock out rounds as perfectly and sublime as you will. I make goals, I score goals, I make the other good players look ordinary. The world once again calls me great, recognises my talent that has formed and grown against the odds, recognises that I am a great player for my nation, while some 'great political minds'talk about how their are too many of my kind in the national team....what the f*@'K? I qualify for the final and some dickhead calls me a low down ignoramous sheep shagging drunken alcholic irish man, ? I wouldn't just deck him with my head, I would pull out a gun a shoot him..........probably. So Zizou well played. Good goal, Good headbut too, and Matzerati? Great fall, but you know what? He demeans himself who pulls down the truly great man through whatever reason. He who walks away remains and enhances his own status as hero. So now I would give the offender my gun and say here, try again, it still hasn't worked, you man child without a penis that likes sucking shit. Then I would have let him hit me with his head and get sent off. Not too bright on the heat of the moment Zizou.
Here's the rub though. In Ireland our hero Roy keane did things like that and was pilloried and hated for it. I have to admire a nation that in the final of the world cup, the hero shows his humanity and the local press, say...........ít's okay, we love you. thank you for all you have given us. We played well, we will miss you now you are gone. Zizou only you could have had this response.
He stayed in the dressing room. He didn't come out to see his team mates cry. He didn't come out for his medal. I wonder if he had just had too much racism thrown at him in his career and this Algerian man finally cracked in his last ever match? In twenty years you will read this and not know the names or quality of men lIke Muller, Pele, Mardonna, Ruminegahr(can't spell) Plantini, Zico, Socrates, Cruff, Zoff, Ricardo and of Course Zinedine Zidane. ZZ twice the man Zoro was apparently. I would like to meet you some day because I think what makes you tick is close to my ticker too. ;-) So I await the Euro qualifiers Ireland has a great new set up and maybe they can allow me to bring some pride their way. Zizou? how about a match together some time ?

Celebrations of the Mediterranean.

Last night was Italian night. I had ate with 5 Italians around football match. We ate different courses of the meal before the match, during half time, just after full time and during the extra time. Of course I was shouting for the Italians due to Irene and Our friends being Italian. I couldn't understand much of what they spoke about but I am sure I was in agreement. I went to pee Italy scored in the 119 minute. I came back and the scored again. in 120 minute and the game finished they are in the World cup Final. The players were delighted the Italians were delighted. The one German guy who works with us was Gutted this morning.

Tonight French night. France held out to win 1:0 at the end of normal time. I don't think I have ever seen two teams so exhausted at the end of 90 minutes of football. The French were out on their feet,but it didn't matter as the Portugese were exhausted but kept going for it. Zidane was a pale shadow of himself this time and lost the ball a lot, Thuram played a blinder but was wrecked at the End.He was almost emotionally distraught. There are less people blowing horns and going crazy than when they beat Brazil. They have just qualified for the world cup final and people are seem to be more calm, quiet and reflective.
At work the only one to wear his French Jersey was the black guy. I wonder does the multi ethnic national team of the french hold some hope for the ordinary joes who are not white french? They prefer their rugby but then, in France it's not a class based sport like in Ireland.

No one believed at the start of the tournament this would happen. Even commentators rubbished the idea of France playing in the Final, the last 16 was the best anyone could hope for. This was realistic. They hardly qualified at all coming just top in a mediocre group. The team had mainly retired and had to be coaxed back in to play when Ireland drew with them in Paris. It is this old team that might now win the world cup.
I have no idea what it is like to win the world cup but I am very in touch with my emotions so I can well imagine the joy that must run through a nation to be proved the best in the world for the next 4 years.

I wonder about the muted French Celebrations.....why are they so reserved? Their next door neighbours the Italians are crazy like the Irish. The way I think people should be, get in touch with your feelings and let go of yourself. It's an amazing freedom. It's like flying.
I know at home I would have been in a bar and dancing on the streets if Ireland were playing but life is going on as normal, some people are passing by the appartment blowing horns or it may be just the same guy driving around :).
Either way Sunday the Italians will be back here, there will be good food, hopefully a good match and hopefully someone somewhere will really Celebrate like a Mediterranean should.

They Don't know the Samba in Paris

What is going on? This is crazy. Car horns are blaring each time they go past the window.The teenage kid in the appartment upstairs starting leaping about like he just saw Monica Belluci lying naked in his bed and I struck dumb. The dance that is all the rage here is Salsa. I always liked the latin rythms, and in Paris they don't Samba. France the team that no one gave a chance to, the team that had the same group as Ireland in the qualifiers, France, the team of old guys and crap managers has qualified for the semi finals of THE World Cup. You know, the one with countries from all over the world. It's a long long saga that got them here, but suffice to say they struggled out of their qualifying group to be in THE World Cup.
Then they struggled in the worst peliminary group and played like brainless pensioners. They managed at last gasp to qualify for the knock out stages and in meeting Spain for the last 16 were expected to be well beaten. They turned in a show of the old days, and ran out 3:1 winners in a great game. Now they have gone even better. Brazil 0 France 1. They have played two magnificent matches. It's like watching a bunch of guys find their youth again and Zizou is god. But Henry? Well cheat comes to mind and the phrase he used after the European cup, that he wasn't a woman,well I think we will see him in skirts soon. Too much diving, faking, and looking for the foul instead of doing what he does best.
I'll give you an image of how bizzare this is. As a reporter went from the studio to the ground for the first match in the peliminaries, she asked the commentator what chances France had, would they reach the final?, he laughed and said it was better not to dream. Maybe he was right, and so the explosion of joy I am hearing around me, and the burning of rubber, is all the less contained because they didn't dare dream. Now they can.
The English on the other hand will never stop dreaming I guess. The got beaten on penalites yet again. Oh how sad. Ha