Tiny Little Fractures

There was one player and only one player that kept the teams apart, Gilchrist (and not Ponting as mentioned previously, thanks Sittingnut for the spot, my brain was completely fried at that moment) and what an innings he played. He won the match in the space of three balls and those three balls were right after Dilhara grassed what would have been a phenomenal return catch. Gilchrist won the mental tussle with Dilhara by attacking him for two fours and a six instead of playing safe to his near miss. I don’t think our bowlers really ever recovered from that pivotal moment. It really is those small moments in a game that make or break the result. Australia played power cricket to the ultimate and they were truly worthy champions, toss and condition advantages notwithstanding. 

In the end our boys have nothing to be ashamed about, led by a young captain with what is in reality a polarized team in terms of age and experience, Sri Lanka played an honourable game. They captured the hearts and imaginations of fans everywhere and they were simply magic. I see great things for this team in the future if we can replace Vaas and Sanath. Murali in my opinion isn’t as key to the success of our one day team as he is to our test team but the other two will be hard shoes to fill. More maturity, more experience and a strengthening of nerves and Sri Lanka will be a force to be reckoned with in the next decade. I can only salute what Mahela and the boys did, I just wish Murali, Vaas and Sanath had better swansongs, but then they already have been part of a Cup-winning squad.

Watching the match was a tiring experience. For one thing getting up at 6am on a Saturday was probably one of my least favourite things to do. And beers at same said time are never a good idea either. That said the company was good, N and some other chaps one of whom turned out to be related to me (seems to happen to me everywhere I go) and a girl to flirt, which made the experience fun (oh yeah I still have no mojo). A couple of byte Aussies at the pub also helped though in the end they were good sports (unlike a few others present). I also happened to get talking to a couple of Englishmen, one of whom looked oddly familiar. It was on the drive back that it struck me why…I had inadvertently had a chat with a B-List star those of us who grew up in Sri Lanka in the 90’s will remember all too well, Clive Robertson. Remember him? Sunset Beach? He was a Sri Lankan fan…but oh so random. The food left a bit to be desired at the Springbok bar, the sausages for breakfast and lunch looked like something that a rhino turded out but on the plus side it was cheap. My whole bill with a fair amount of booze and two meals came to around $30.00, which isn’t too shabby at all.

Of course what really left a bitter taste and killed all my interest in the cricket was the text from R about “attacks in Colombo.” Nothing really surprises me with the Tigers anymore but this was the moral equivalent of the Tet offensive. N left and the only reason I really hung around was because F pointed out I wouldn’t achieve anything by leaving and I thought I might try (unsuccesfuly) flirt a bit more and help my headache along with a few more beers. The dearth of information was scary as well and the fact my new phone (since the Schizo Shitzu ingested my old one) didn’t have any numbers on it made getting in touch with home tough, but thankfully I remembered Bounty’s number off the top of my head and managed to ascertain his and the family’s well-being. 

All in all a disconcerting, depressing day. This World Cup has left a lot to be desired, lets hope the next one in the subcontinent will be a better one!

My head hurts, I mean really fucking hurts. I’m not sure what else could have gone wrong today, we lost the toss, the pitch didn’t swing for us, it did for the Aussies, the weather was perfect for the Aussie batting session, far from perfect for ours and in the middle of this the bloody Tigers go dropping bombs. I don’t know whether I’m angry, disappointed or a heady combination of both. 

First off the match, what on earth happened to our bowling? Why was Murali not bowled out instead of Dilhara? The pitch was just a ridiculously good batting pitch and losing the toss put the conditions heavily in the Australians favour but we should have had some kind of strategy to combat Ponting, we seemed to do with Hayden but Ponting singlehandedly took that game away from us.

Ah, the throbbings too much, I’m off the bed…I’ll be an armchair pundit and general tomorrow.

 For Murali!!

 P.S. Do us proud, but don’t worry noone will even dream of burning any houses down if things don’t go our way!

“And I want to paint it black”…thus used to start every Wednesday night for me during my early teens. Despite the remonstrations of my grandparents that it was a ‘school night’ and the eeriness of the downstairs of my house late at night, including a wicker chair that creaked occasionally as if a passing ghost decided to take a break, nothing could keep me away from Tour of Duty. I lapped the non-stop action up, the camaraderie and the series introduced me to some of the best music I have ever heard, sparking a fascination for “have you ever seen the rain” by Creedance Clearwater Revival that I still have. That song is one of my all time favourites. 

I thought the series had some amazing characters and did really well on building on them. Zeke and Goldman’s relationship from the latter being an impetuous whippersnapper trying to lord it over the former to a healthy deferment to the formers vast experience. The empathy Zeke shows, Ruiz’s cockiness and Taylor’s wild ways. I seemed to most identify with Ruiz, probably because he was short and brown, sorta like me. We used to spend hours on the playground chatting about last night’s episode and trying to perfect the ‘fist handshake. ’All this was so intoxicating to a teenage kid and of course the guns, bombs, explosions and the occasional Viet hooker on display made the show utterly irresistible. That said some serious issues were covered, mental instability, the backlash to the war, etc. but this mostly enjoyed only a bit of my interest. 

Why the sudden bout of nostalgia? Well I went and bought the first two seasons on DVD and started watching them. Even from the cold light of my 25 year old eyes, the series still has magic. None of the original music is on the DVD’s (some pissy licensing issue); the special effects are absolutely terrible compared to what I have seen in the intervening decade. But the stories are still strong and Zeke is, well, Zeke.

On a side note it appears the second series was shot behind my current house where there is currently a paintball range. The hill they fly over umpteen times looks oddly familiar despite it being occasionally near Saigon and sometimes the border of Laos in the series. There’s also the river they cross many times, a similar one which runs close to the residence. I’m pretty damn sure that where they shot it is the paintball range and that would be sweetly ironic. Now I just have to get series three, oh yeah if you like Vietnam War movies, forget Platoon, watch Apocalypse Now, Redux. It’s the most acid trip movie I have ever seen, especially the tiger scene, trust me, you won’t regret watching it.

Jayantha Dharmadasa, Upali Dharmadasa, Thilan Sumathipala and all those other clowns who have in charge of Sri Lankan cricket for the last ten years. This wonderful article on the fallout of the Cricket World Cup had the priceless paragraph

“Walking into the most exciting job in world cricket. There is a lovely balance between the old legs and new ones, the captain himself is beautifully poised in between and the team appears on the verge of big things. The board, though, is as crazy as they come in the subcontinent.” (bold mine)

Now isn’t that the truth. Very funny though.

P.S. there have been a few decent people like Sidath Wettimuny but they have been few and far between. It’s a wonder our team is so good with such nutters in charge.

I was driving Chinky Pinky’s car for a bit last weekend and it’s truly a testament to how abysmal my my social life is right now that that was the most fun I have had in awhile. In my defence CP’s car is a chirpy, stick shift, high revving Integra. Needless to say I went a bit Alonso in it after having driven my RAV4 for so long. After a couple of nifty, adrenaline inducing maneuvers, I noticed CP was a bit quiet.

Err…I’m not scaring you am I?

Ah no, are you crazy!? I trust you….well…as long as your awake…

Judging on past evidence, I guess that’s fair enough.

So Shane Bond didn’t play against Australia, apparently he developed a ‘stomach flu’ at the last minute. Neither did Jacob Oram who had problems with his ‘heel’ but of course the latter will be ‘fully fit’ for the semi final. And I’m willing to bet my left nut Shane Bond will be too. Where are the agonized screams of match fixing? Just another good ol’ day of double standards in the world of cricket.

P.S. Read this article by Kumar Sangakkara, excellent that we have such and eloquent writer in our team when even people like Ranatunge are letting us down and talking crap.

Unfortunately that’s a real life formula in the title. And no don’t look in any algebra textbooks, it’s a scenario equation. To all of those scratching their heads in confusion let me elaborate. Chinky Pinky joined me for the weekend after a long hiatus, ostensibly to help me scope out some brown badu at the Aluth Avurrudu festival at Woodley Park. Well that’s what I wanted to do at least, I think she was just more interested in drinking at some point of the weekend. 

There were a few possibles around but there was a high probability of them being underage. And as much as I like a handbag to the head from some irate Aunty I decided to keep my distance. The relative lack of hotness was however disappointing, nothing on the scale of back home…oh well what to do. Anyways CP and I were meeting A, her friend from RI who brought along G his friend from out East. Being incestuously Sri Lankan it turned out they were going to meet a ‘friend’ of mine who we shall refer to from now on as Wanker as G knew him, and boy were they happy about having to go. I personally was more inclined to hang out at Woodley, smile uncertainly at aunties and uncles I might know, try and track down some arrack and laugh at N. Unfortunately N was being taken to be groomed by his female retainer and we decided to put A and G out their misery by accompanying them to Venice Beach accumulating Wanker along the way. 

Now I may, truth be told, not the nicest person on the planet, but I do try and be a ‘good’ person. There is many an occasion where I fall short but I reckon I must be doing a decent job on the evidence of the friends I have. R, Bounty, CP, Evil, N, FG, Monkey Boy, etc., one must be doing a fairly good job as a human being to have friends like these. That’s why I cannot for the life of me understand why Wanker doesn’t see the error of his ways. I mean how does one go through life for 23 years and have no friends? Surely he should be able to see that he has issues and that anyone who gives him the time of day does so, well, out of sympathy for the most part.

Let me give you a bit of background on Wanker, he grew up with me and R living in the near vicinity. Back in the day we used to beat on him endlessly but here’s the thing, not one punch was undeserved. I’m sorry but if you chuck a rock at me out of the blue at my head and draw blood you will get hit. Similarly if you say unmentionable things about my mother, you will get hit, if you throw my slippers on the roof forcing me to walk home on hot tarmac, you will get punched. We actually felt sorry for him when we hit him but explaining how to be a decent human being never worked leaving us with no other option. He also had the one redeeming feature of having an awesome garden to play cricket and night cricket in. After he moved we thankfully didn’t see him for quite awhile. 

This year he found me on facebook and invited me to his place. After almost a decade I was expecting improvement. After all I know on several people’s testimony’s that I have, N has and so have a lot of other people relative to who we were back in the day. And I firmly believe in second, third and fourth chances. Sadly it wasn’t to be, he was still annoying only a bit bigger this time. Last weekend however took the cake, not only was he annoying, whiney and obnoxious but he was downright rude.

Wanker took a liking to CP which all of us without exception found hilarious. But what really pissed me off was his behaviour after that. After a night clubbing CP, G and I were on the couch. The former was in the middle with her legs up on me talking to G while I zoned out. After about five minutes I realized Wanker was sitting on the couch next to us giving me what can only be described as a bitter look, before giving the same look to CP and then G and then whispering something to his friend who was sitting next to him. That really, really pissed me off because it was just so rude and not done. Anybody with any social skills should be able to handle non-attainable attraction in a mature way and not behave like a hormonal teen. What I really wanted to do at that stage was to give him a thundering kanne pare that would have echoed across the Western Hemisphere. But I just let it go. If five years of people beating on him hasn’t made him realize that there is something fundamentally wrong in his behaviour towards others then nothing will.

Once a wanker always a wanker I guess, at least for this particular wanker. Some people should just be kept in the past.

Waaaaaaa…..

Hmm…so Australia beat us. And somehow the world seems to think that we have brought the game into disrepute. Yeah sure we don’t go around calling people ‘black cunts’ or moan like babies at any given opportunity but somehow resting our key bowlers is a controversy. Let’s look at the facts shall we? How old are Murali and Vaas, they are veterans both in their late thirties. Murali was hobbling a bit in the game against England, why risk both of them in what is in the end a pointless match? It may have been important to the Aussies, as we were probably the first decent team apart from maybe the Saffers they have played in the tournament so far. I think Mahela’s move to rest the bowling attack was a good one; we really had nothing to lose. If we won, hell we won with a half arsed attack, if we lost….well we lost because of a half arsed attack.

Of course that our batting messed up is an issue and a glaring one. What gives me some comfort is the intelligent game that Chamara and Mahela played. From cricinfo it seemed very much an Aravinda/Arjuna type innings. Anyone remember those? When they came into the middle after the top order had fallen and just chipped away, almost nonchalantly building a respectable total or chasing one down. They were so clinical I remember falling asleep at Khetta, they were so effective at chasing down targets. For me to sleep at a cricket match is one thing, but to fall asleep when 16 and accompanied by hot 19 year old Vishakhians was an achievement by itself…amuses me now that I used to think of R and H akki in those terms…hormones! Anyways digression about hot Vishakhians aside (as rare as they are) we really need Mahela, Chamara and Kumar to start playing that ‘brand’ of cricket. Let Sanath go for the big hits, but his success/failure shouldn’t dictate the score.

At the end of the day it was a bit of a mind game and a bit of conservatism, Australia may be crying as usual but then that’s to be expected. They always whinge, just read the tone of this article in response to some comments by Ranatunge. Of course they have no hesitation with playing their own mind games. Apparently Justin Langer has a direct connection to Tom Moody’s brain despite reports to the contrary. Of course this wasn’t mind games at all. I personally detest the Australian cricket team, they are to cricket what the USA is to the Olympics, the end result of a little talent and a lot of money. Countries like Sri Lanka, Bangladesh have always been more ‘naturally’ talented but with the lack of discipline brought about by the intense training approaches that money can buy the Australians will always lack consistency, until at least they are extremely experienced. Their tendency to whine about the slightest thing that makes other teams better is also annoying, they of course can go ahead and bowl underarm if they see fit. The greatest reason I despise them is of course what they tried to do to Murali and the continued treatment he receives there. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see our boys beat the Aussies, I hope when/if we play them in the final each and every one will be thinking “Remember Murali!”

Some pictures resulted and apparently I said something of value, at least according to N.

“From now on I’m going to keep my zoom on my camera, after all, landscapes don’t run away do they?”

I dunno why but that apparently that’s a gem.

Are you alright sweetheart?

Are you ok sweetheart? 

I look around, above and below me. Yep the fat old lady’s talking to me…sigh…initially I was concerned. I’m not exactly the spiffiest person when bumming around town but I didn’t think I looked near death or anything that dramatic. It was then that I saw she had a Macy’s tag and realized this was her own unique form of customer service. I’m not a big fan of endearments, even from family members and having some random bag call me sweetheart did initially send shivers down my spine. I bit back the urge to blurt “I have short legs and a large ass, where’s your genetics department? I want a refund!” and just smiled and went my way.

I absolutely hate shopping, unless it’s for electronics. The one thing that really rankles me is salespeople eternally asking me whether I have everything I need, is everything in order…blah, blah, blah. The first couple of times it’s ok but after the zillionth time my smile starts to hurt and I have to hold back the urge to pull out a baseball bat and go postal on everyone within a 10 meter radius. Also it makes me very guilty to walk out of a store without buying anything. 

This lady took the cake though, every time I did a circuit of the store trying to find a pair of pants that fit she kept asking me if I was ok. There are only so many sickly sweet smiles I can force out per day.

As I pulled out of the parking lot at the mall believe it or not, there she was again. Our eyes met, she smiled her sweet old smile and I did what any sane person would do… 

I ran her over.

Disclaimer: obviously I did no such thing, I just feel with the way things are going these days with freedom of speech, etc a disclaimer is necessary.

“Oh for Christ’s sake Sammy, the dogs are barking in that direction, why are you looking in that direction and barking! You’re such a fucktard, I swear!”

“Bugger I’m talking to the dog!” 

Bugger I’m talking to myself! Shut it…sigh…

The prospect of getting back into the workforce is actually looking appealing now, if anything to allow me the opportunity to talk to humans as opposed to the Schizo Shitzu, whom I take on regular walks in order to avoid mid-morning cigarette cravings.

 Pretending not to understand when I ask him to vacate my bed

He is adorable even though he’s a royal pain in the ass. He’s taken to sleeping with me since the sibling is on spring break and he breaks into the most unearthly howls in the night. Probably dreaming of doing unmentionable things to the ravishing toy poodle who lives in the front house and stares dreamily if a bit vacantly into our house all day. Yes, yes I’m a sentimental fool when it comes to dogs, its been years since I’ve had to deal with one, well the four legged ones (since most of my friends have been described as such at one time or another as for that matter, have I). I’m sure going to miss the loony pooch when the sibling moves in May but at least life will be a bit more peaceful.

It makes me green with envy sometimes, these people who graduate, get a job at a multinational, get married to someone within a year or two and just settle down. They just make it seem so effortless and I just can’t fathom how they do it. To settle just doesn’t seem to be in my vocabulary, there is always something that’s better, somewhere to be reached. What’s even odder is that I can clearly see where I want to be, it’s crystal clear but the route is sort of like the way to Mordor, wreathed in darkness. The settlers just make everything seem so easy I either feel stupid, confused or just both.

What I would love to do is just for a week live the life of a settled person, just to experience it for a bit, a 8-5 job where one is a cog in a big machine, come home to the wifey who also works in a similar company and watch some telly, eat some take out and hit the sack (I’m assuming sex is reserved for Friday and Saturday nights and its strictly missionary instead of say the ‘congress of a cow’). I’m assuming that’s the life of a settled person as opposed to mine, living in temporary digs for the greater part of seven years, soon to be going on eight, the desire to work at a job where I not only get paid, but I improve myself, easily bored, only time for relationships is on holiday (recipe for failure) and a constant hunger for something. I kind of get what Christopher Ondaatje was going on about when he penned the phrase “the devil drives.” 

I suppose at the end of the day I want to be a settler, domestic bliss would be nice. But it has to be on my terms, not some drudgery of a job to make ends meet, but something I truly love to do (i.e. wander about the jungle with a camera and then write about it) and in a time and place of my choosing (i.e. Sri Lanka sometime in the next decade). I reckon settling now would kill me slowly with boredom. I need to do that Europe walkabout, follow Bryson’s footsteps in Aussie, spend a month at the Shack diving and just being a general beach bum and not have to worry about a significant other, a mortgage or a brat. So for now (or at least the next half a decade) I guess, I’m going to wander.

(Actually that’s not strictly true, since I’m going to have to hold my next job for at least 2.5-3 years so I can move back home and start a stint of real wandering, so I guess I’m wandering in the metaphorical sense)

Getting paid for my photographs in food seems to be becoming a trend. S wanted some headshots done since the one’s she has are only good for the New York scene. Actually next time somebody asks me to do a shoot I really need to figure out before hand what exactly they need, I only found out what headshots are around a few hours before the shoot. Admittedly I had been busy with interviews, accepting job offers and losing my mind over the prospect of not seeing Sri Lanka for so long, but I still should have taken the time to learn more about what taking good headshots necessitates.

I hope she got some usable shots, I certainly got a few I liked, but then I’m not the client. I got Jamaican jerk chicken and a humongous ice cream, cookie sandwich for my efforts. Needless to say I spent most of the night up with heartburn that would have woken a mummy up. Add that to an early morning wake and jaunt on the freeway to check out our boys kicking some Windian arse and I’m pretty knackered. The next job I have lined up is the sibling’s graduation, hopefully try and get a flash before that, since that seems an essential for good portrait work.