Nationalistic sportball is playing on the computer. Not this computer, another one, the one I have for watching and listening and playing with things like a good consumer.
Although that good consumeriness plays out a bit weirdly here. I’ve long kept up with sports so I had things to talk about with strangers, so I’m not some elitist only interested in my esoteric nerdy occupations.
Here though it’s all backfiring. We’re off some other end of the scales of what makes a person interesting. The interest in the world cup (even though it’s “Sport! The universal language!”) here is peripheral as all get out so my watching of CBC’s helpfully streamed matches is as useful for making small talk as knowing what’s up with the political hierarchies of bees or the logistics of interstellar economics (or baseball).
It’s Canada Day out though, and sunny, so I guess fuck futbol being played in some other hemisphere. I have walked the town’s celebrations, which are kind of epitomized by the amount of totally non-ironic Bryan Adams being played. Woo patriotism.