A long break, christmas, and a lament for football.

Happy New Year. 2010 the start of a new decade, new beginnings and perhaps the final nail in the coffin of New Labour. Worried. Excited. Couldn't really give a fuck. These are immediate reactions to a global obsession with the invisible boundaries imposed by new years and new decades, where people insist on casting a beady eye into the long forgotten past whilst contemplating a supposedly uncertain future.

Personally the "2000's" involved morphing from snotty little kid obsessed with naughty things into an immature man obsessed with other more interesting things like politics and shit yea!?! (I was 13 in 2000.) Go Obama! Not.

If I'm honest the last ten years was mostly about trying hard (for social acceptance) to get intoxicated as indiscreetly as possible (drinking, smoking, pilling, sniffing) ect. You name it I tried it as a motley teenager straining to gain credence with my peers. Along the way there was school, uni, sex, football, drum n bass, a growing appreciation of quality literature and a burgeoning love of film. Twinned with these fleeting flights of passion was a growing dissatisfaction with loads of things like the countryside, gillets, Top Gear, manchester city and scousers. I came to love the cities of Manchester, Leeds, Barcelona, Madrid, Rio, Buenos Aries, Sydney, Milan, Miami and New York, whilst sadly growing tired of London, albeit not of life.

The 'noughties' as many idiots have titled it was also a decade of varied fashions and musical tastes, in that I began it wearing Moshino jeans and DC trainers whilst rocking out to Slipknot and trying to steal cigarettes (deeply confused) and ended it wearing an expensive Barbour Mac and a pair of Nike Hi-tops, listening to Kraftwerk and sniffing plant feeder. (Fucked up.)

Shrinking the microscope of memory down a notch to 2009 many have proclaimed it the worst year on record. On a personal note it began well and ended badly. Traveling around South America, trekking in the Amazon, lying on 100 different beaches and living a life of general sluttishness was fucking top. Working as an unpaid intern, going off football, taking up smoking again, head splitting hangovers, worrying about serious stuff and never having money to spend on good clothes and summer festivals was totally shite. My main problem with 2009 though was the fact that it was also a year of lists. As a society we have become obsessed with 'listing', as if books, films, celebrities, sexual acquaintances and songs and experiences can be quantified in some sort of tangible manner. If I have to read another article celebrating the Top 100 films of 'noughties' or listen to a twat from The Guardian reeling of inane predictions for the 'teenies' I will be really, quite frankly, even more bored than I am now.

Yes indeed such is the extent of my present boredom (I've been given a half day because of snow) that I have once again taken up the pen and embarked on a journey of total pointlessness, by recording thoughts, feelings and lists of things I don't like in the guise of a poem, as a means of literary explanation. Yes my first blog for weeks.

Lots of things have happened since we last met which are of no interest to anyone: trip with United to Wolfsburg (strange), Christmas (tasty), New Year (messy), and some other stuff involving a much hyped and ultimately okish film showcasing revolutionary 3D technology and a student from Nigeria blowing his cock off trying to bring down an American passenger plane. An odd festive period to say the least.

But now I'm back, it's 2010, London is covered by snow, Britain has ground to a halt and I am bringing joy to the masses with amazing, regular weekly updates in the blogosphere. Next week: Leeds United (fuck), moving house (shit) and The Millennium Trilogy by Stig Larsson. And I promise promise promise I will try to do reviews. Not that any of you give a fuck! Muchos love adios.