I'm reading a lot of books right now. Yesterday it was Morbo, about La Liga, and I finished the chapter on the Basque teams--regional pride can easily blend into racism and hooey. I started the chapter on Barca, which was deflating, Phil Ball doesn't buy the hype and I do, so you know, disillusionment is probably good, right?
Before that I'm reading about Thoreau who grew up in the wild west of Concord. The tragedy of Native American history has to be rewritten to be more empowering, but man that's hard given the fustercluck hand they were dealt. It's the fight against being natural and the swarming hordes. Someone told me there are probably twice as many people in the world since I've been born and that kind of freaks me out.
I'm also reading Inverting The Pyramid, a sort of history of soccer tactics from the English perspective. I didn't know there really were paying off refs in the 70's. I'm always so surprised when sports are corrupt, because I project so much idealism onto sports. The racism in Spain shouldn't be a surprise, but it is. I want really badly for my team to be good.
The Life of the Buddha, an edit of the Pali Canon by Bhikkhu Nanamoli is in a section that write about the marks of a Buddha, a teaching I struggle to grasp relevance, and more mythological stuff. There's a tension in Buddhism between traditionalism and a more modern approach, maybe not quite literalism, but to me too close, I want to dismiss it. Personality issue.
Gravity's Rainbow is alternately a masterpiece, and tedious, back and forth, back and forth. What is going on? The struggle for meaning is good exercise.
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