goals mean nothing, i set none anyway

I should not be a fan of football. I mean, soccer. Wait, fuck that, I mean football…

The Detroit Lions are the worst American football team ever. Poorly owned, managed, and stocked with poor players. I have watched about 90% of their games since grade school, followed drafts, training camp, even bought a jersey that I never wear. I started watching soccer (football, dammit) last year, and immediately fell in love with Arsenal, a London team that played in the Premier League. They play a fast, attacking, and really fun game. They rely on developing young players, instead of simply buying up international talent at the end of every season. They are healing the wounds that the tiger’s lost world series created, and Arsenal didn’t even win anything this year…

I am awful at sports, awkward, tall but not strong, quick but not fast, and a little fat. I simply lack the coordination to play any sports well, but it does not keep me from appreciating athleticicism. Modern athlethes are all in incredible shape, but the amount of skill needed to flat out run for 90 minutes is unbelievable. Also, Cesc Fabregas plays for Arsenal, and he is king.
Fabregas played more than 100 games for Arsenal before turning 20. I am 19, and still cannot dress myself properly. He does not shoot  unless he can score, scores rarely, is average sized, and is probably the greatest soccer player in the world right now.

Because he sets up his team-mates for tap in shots, when he could risk a longer try.

Because he cheers the loudest.

Because he is only 21, but leads his squad, even without the armband.

Because he loves his team.

Christiano Ronaldo scored 40+ goals in all competitions for Manchester United this year, won the UEFA Champions League (the all-star league of Europe’s best teams) and won the Premier League. He had one of the greatest seasons in the history of modern football. Fabregas won nothing. However, he celebrated every single goal as if he had won it all, and not just his. He loves his team, and I have fallen deeply in love with his team because of it.

Ronaldo has spent all summer asking for a transfer to Spanish side Real Madrid, because it is “his dream” to play there. I don’t know how to tell my family I am in love with football, it would be roughly similar to coming out of the closet, or admitting I don’t care for religion. It won’t keep me from watching as many Arsenal games as I can though.

My friend Kate told me that she doesn’t watch sports, but if she did watch sports, she would watch football, well, she actually said soccer.

At least she is half-way there.

note: this is ridiculous. But I wanted to document my love for Arsenal and my man-crush on Fabregas. Because this is the kind of shit I want to remember in 15 years.

love, dooley

so long my strange job

it is absurdly easy to get laid off from a job. they just need to feel any real or imagined need to cut back on payroll. of course they are receiving $100 an hour for machining per part, and i make about 20 parts an hour, but only get paid $9 an hour. so

fuck!

why would they fire me?

because nobody wants cement mixer main gears, or transaxles for golf carts, or anything having to do with american cars. so, fuck. goodbye bad job, i barely knews ya.

at least i do not have kids, or pay rent, or need the health insurance i wasn’t offered. like the rest of detroit does.

i have no idea

so here is a video of an opossum eating strawberries.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWwNkIRGnRk&feature=related

all new things come with a breakdown

after a full week of involuntary machine shop layoff, in which i met with my mother’s lawyer, and i sat in an emergency room, and i threw up a couple of times, and i lay sweating with panic in my own bed head filled with visions of slowly burning poppy fields,

i ended up with a neat little music website. so, there is that.

http://www.myspace.com/andrewmalcolmdooleysunbrokenrecord

(pops in new window)

heyyo!

and i can add and subtract to and from it at my choosing. which is neat. i am also working on 2 (two!) new books, one with pretty prints of and by julie, and one made purely of my weird and headfucked poetry, a lot of it, like 150 (a hundred and fifty!) poems. so look forward to that kids and kittens.

also, if you ever feel like you are about to have a massive breakdown, call your oldest sister before (not after) it happens. this is good advice. trust me. i’ll be in the bathroom, staring at the mirror.