Damn what a fine world we live in syndicate members,
Vicey needs a new moniker. How about “Man on Top of the World”? A cursory reading of that title might lead one to conclude that the king sits in his counting house high atop the fortune he’s amassed through a tiny amount of manipulation and great deal of luck. Not the case. I’m rich in ways that extend far beyond monetary rewards. Caught up my work and soon headed towards a bright shiny future, I now have the honor of watching my country win its fourth European Championship with the best cohort of internationally minded friends anyone could ever ask for. Many of you I’ve known for years. Others I can hardly wait to work with. No matter the outcome of Saturday’s match, it’s into the unrelenting sunshine with all of us
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Oh
fuck….an icy piercing stab tells me this will be the most painfully awkward set
of retroactive notes yet.
It’s been my great privilege to share words with those
deeply attuned to the great geopolitical challenges of our day.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Noooooooooo…don’t
do it, Vicey!
I look forward to further fellowship with the especially
find minds soon to flower in the service of International Organizations,
Non-Profits, Research Institutes, and Think Tanks.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Aaaaah.
Make it stop. Please someone make it stop!
Now that we’ve thorough enjoyed our European Tournament, may
we turn thoughts toward fostering more coherent strategies for effective
regional integration, institutional development and conflict resolution in the
specific areas of the European enlargement process, its impact in restructuring
its Eurasian neighbors and possible
future applications of these experiences to the cooperation of African
States within the African Union.
My fascination with the scholarship of policy professionals working for
the European Stability Initiative, the Organization for Security and
Cooperation in Europe, and the newly founded European Council on Foreign
Relations leaves me barely able to contain my thoughts. The glimpse of what
brilliance you future scholars possess only serves to heighten my rapacious
motivation. I eagerly anticipate learning and preparing conflict resolution
strategies with a dynamic team of talented individuals from across the globe.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Idiot.
What a complete fucking dolt. Er…for clarity’s sake, I do not wish to insinuate
that I was in any way disappointed with the passion and intelligence of those
with I worked with in California. On the contrary, not a single conversation
even remotely approached anything resembling dull. I merely express frustration
at this idealistic young fool, so narcissistically convinced of his own highly
spurious and subjective research directions, felt the need to borrow broad
strokes from his Grad School application essay. Beyond pathetic. Even more
lamentably feeble, that was the first statement of purpose he wrote. The school
accepted him within days, before his ineffectual ass was able to get off
another application. Who needs to consider whether a program might be a decent
fit when one’s ego can be so easily placated? Shit. I couldn’t be happier that
this kid is dead.
I stand before you all this afternoon a man who has FINALLY
found his place. With all of heart I thank those that that have journeyed with
me. May we all continue our journey together, forever unified in our love of
the collaborative efforts meant to bring those of disparate cultures together.
Football accomplishes this like nothing else. May we continue to congregate
until every last one of us has found his place.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
In
other words, may we continue to get together until I drop dead from exhaustion.
Relax, everyone. It’s coming sooner than you think. JJ
Before entering the solemn realm of research and analysis,
we’ve one final match to address. Yes, gentlemen ALL BETS ARE OFF. We should
spend this Sunday afternoon relaxing and catching up. Holler at your boy. JJ
You’ll never watch alone!
Supreme Champion of the European Football
Universe—Deutschland vs. Spain
vs. 
Spanish prospects can be accurately summarized with one name and two words: Villa is out! Aragones has little choice but to switch to a 4-5-1 spearheaded by the unfit Torres. Such a configuration stands virtually no chance against the latest German 4-2-3-1, which features Podolski and Schweinsteiger on the wings. Of course my Spanish compadres are more than welcome to keep hope coursing through your veins.
Hope courses through my veins as well. Regardless of who wins
the championship we should be treated to a great match and some wonderful
banter. Stay in touch, everyone. Next time you hear from me, it’ll be a
dispatch from California’s Golden Central Coast. Let your heart flutter with
all the inspired oscillation of a Pacific Ocean Wave!
THE LINE: Deutschland +1 goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Spain 1, Germany 0. A combination of letters to faithfully convey the sigh I
just let out cannot be assembled. The sigh in no way alludes to the result of
the match, which La Roja unreservedly deserved to win. Rather, I would remiss
absent some commentary on the unrestrained optimism of the young idealist. The
topic of what went wrong shall not be discussed. If engaging in the same dialogue
with myself every night for the past three years has taught me anything, it’s
that the reasoning is far too fluidly temporal to merit any grand conclusion.
If some foundational crux may be extracted, the entire subject comes down to
the simple truth that sometimes one just doesn’t fit in. I could obviously
compose several hundred pages merely providing the footnotes of my personal
ruminations. One’s intellectual observations prove of little consequence when
juxtaposed with the speed at which life moves. We must all rationalize the
world through some sort of temporary scaffolding. We do so in the interest of
moving on in the face of adversity; in the face of eviscerating heartbreak; in
the face of the mortality that will claim all of us; in the face of the
demolition of our hopes, dreams, and expectations.
What I
wish to discuss instead pertains to the daily exigent obligation to savagely
murder a part of ourselves. I speak not of destroying some portion of
experience for the sake of memory. That happens automatically as the mind sorts
through information acquired in our subconscious state. I refer to the
imperative urgency of killing off a certain portion of ourselves. We cling
hopelessly to certain endeavors based solely on the amount of energetic
fortitude we’ve invested. No human being is immune to such instinctual urges.
Even the most well-read among us refuse to consider that which is presented to
us for no other reason than we refuse to accept that the time we’ve committed
couldn’t possibly have been in vain.
I do
not advocate the sort of memory that, without hesitation, discounts all the
knowledge that one has accrued. My experiences have, however, taught me that
one must let go of a sufficient amount of previous hard work in order to
adequately function in the present. One might correctly deduce that such a
perspective unfairly reflects the reality that I’ve spent three months’ worth
of spare time working on “retroactive notes”. Yet….that’s precisely my point.
What one thinks at any given moment may only be considered valuable in that it
helps one move forward. I’m so very happy to be inching closer to the present.
You should be happy just living in it. Here and now matter. Your past need not
determine your future. Fuck the past.
Are we
done with all the metaphysical shit Vicey? Absolutely. Torres scored what
proved to be the winning goal in the 33rd. Guess he wasn’t so
“unfit” after all. La Roja owned the match. Saluda el Campeon!!
