if holden caulfield is real and is living, if he chanced upon me, he'd beat the shit out of me and kill me with his bare fists. i am a fake. i love everything and anything anglo, thinks and act like i'm anglo when i'm actually not. i worship another race because i think my own race is incompetent and impotent when i might actually be more incompetent and impotent than they are. which makes me, as holden caulfield would have put it, a phony. a first-class, gold-plated, honey-brazen phony.
this post is to the new friends i've made and the old friends that i've (finally) met after a long long while. i apologize for never being there. sharing the company together and catching up even if it's for a while, do know that i appreciate every second of it.
good morning. the charity shield had my two favourite german and french footballers, michael ballack and patrice evra, clash against each other. but the this entry is all about the patrice himself. he is now officially my hero. so what are you waiting for? get me a united jersey with his name and number at the back for my birthday.