So This Man Did.
Cesc lit the touchpaper, got a grand fire going, and predictably, got scorched.
My year-end post covers last weekend's home game against Aston Villa. In the most sensational cameo which lasted all of 27 minutes, Cesc was summoned from the bench with two-thirds of the game played; to rev to a roar the Arsenal engine that before his introduction had only been prettily purring.
He scored two goals, one from a penalty twenty-two yards out (deftly delivered which smashed past the top left corner netting), and one in open play from a clever three-move exchange (began by an Armand Traore interception, teeed-off in some style by Theo Walcott and completed by Cesc truly in breathtaking fashion), both marvelous, before being withdrawn with an aggravated hamstring injury. I am feeling spectacularly unoriginal though so I shall just let...
1. Skysports lavish its praise: Cesc magic sinks Villa
2. The Guardian wax poetic: Cesc Fabregas's brief masterclass keeps Arsenal upwardly mobile
3. The Independent spit out a mouthful: 'Injured' Cesc Fabregas inspires Arsenal's 3-0 victory over Aston Villa
4. ESPN marvel: Captain Fabregas at the double
5. BBC say it simply: Arsenal 3 - 0 Aston Villa
6. The Daily Mail sit up and take notice: Substitute Cesc Fabregas fires title warning to Chelsea and Manchester United
7. The Irish Independent spin the drama: Fabregas sacrifices himself for the cause
8. The Offside find the funny (and the videos!!!): In Case of Emergency, Break Cesc Fabregas
9. Tim Collings and Arsenal team-mate Thomas Vermaelen (hard as nails but easy on the eye) speak as though they were seeing the first sunrise: Tim Collings' Arsenal Outlook: Vision of Cesc Fabregas a throwback to days gone by
10. and another team-mate Andrey Arshavin get heavy on the manlove: Arshavin: "I wish I was like Fabregas"
Fangirl is given pause by the revisit of how easy it was to call Cesc "Man".
Fangirl clears her throat, grabs a wad of Kleenex, dabs at the corners of her eyes, gets all sniffy, and thinks to herself. "Oh my. He's all grown up." It couldn't have been that long ago when The Man (blows her nose) in the First Photo was...
Alright, alright, I have not been following Cesc's career all that long; but it certainly feels like it. Having conceded as much, it's imperative to say that I certainly love him enough now to make up for all the years I didn't and couldn't possibly have. Naks.
Notes:
Oh, how naturally have I meandered into bunny boiler territory!?!
Like every other thing on this post, the title, a beauty, is borrowed from Torquil Campbell of the Canadian band, Stars. The line begins the song "Your Ex-Lover is Dead" from the album "Set Yourself on Fire." The Verminator's photo (where Cescy's back also stars) first appeared in the firspost.co.uk, and I found the Arsha shot (with a fuzzy Cesc behind him) in arsenalanalysis. The baby piccies are from cescfabregasfans.com
Place of demonstration: Singapore
Date: 28 - 31 August 2009
Instructors: Cynch and Annsley
1. Go to the mall a lot.
2. Eat only food you already have at home.
3. Sleep often.
4. Mingle only with fellow Pinoys.
5. Take cabs all the time.
6. Buy your pasalubong (chocolates and perfumes) from Duty Free.
See how in color:
[or, Stuff for the Overanalytical, the Heart-Crushed, and the Girls with Their Peace in Someone Else's Hands]
If Lucky Soul writes stuff that take me back, Aimee writes songs that bring me to places like Wonka's Chocolate Factory (sans scary Oompa-Loompas) --- I've never been there, it's all new, but I feel right at home with all of its different variations of ear candy (and more).
@#%&*! Smilers (2008 SuperEgo) is like a chewing gum meal (complete with tomato soup, roast beef, potatoes and blueberry pie) --- with its big helpings of pianos and keyboards and horns and strings. It's like a fizzy lifting drink with its bits that swell, and an Everlasting Gobstopper with its choruses that repeat for as long as you want them to. It is also pitilessly melodious like wriggle sweets that wriggle delightfully in your tummy after swallowing, except that this time the wriggling happens in your head.
And so. On 31 July, only 29 days before Aimee's show at the Esplanade, it took me no time flat from reading the announcement to deciding that I would go see it. Sure, 29 days mightn't be all that impulsive or madcap or whimsical... hey --- do burst my bubble, why don't you? I've been waiting 14 years. Or whatever. You're not the one in this picture:
Will I ever be unhappy again.
In the face of unconscionable indecisiveness of TD&Hs?
Let me first count five hundred by fives, slowly and fairly: five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty, forty-five, fifty...
Okay. I too may not quite have the patience for that.
Maybe a word from the wise?
You balance heartache with your fun
(But) when the scales tip, you know you're done...
--- Aimee Mann, Phoenix
Well. I think. We are all allowed. A little bit of drama. For as long as. In the end. We realize. It's really the little things. That matter. Like being able to pack your bags. To see a good show.
Thank you, everyone who helped make it happen.