I'm tired.

Of a lot of things at the moment. Mmmm (that's not the "mmm" of something tasty, no, it's the "mmm" of acceptance). Go ahead and hit play while you read this to let it all soak in, skip ahead about a minute.

This season is wearing on me in ways I wouldn't have ever imagined. It's an interesting difference of an emotional climb/descent from that of my partner over here, Jim and Liverpool. The Reds were rolling early and were - ever so cautiously - primed, confident and ready to pounce whenever necessary. They were taking, it has seemed, carefully measured steps toward a title. Yet that long, long walk is FAR from over - in spite of the convulsions that each of their supporters is feeling at the moment. And there's definitely a heavier significance to their title chase then, say, Arsenal's last year. It'd be exponentially more painful than the Gunners' collapse in the 2008. Just ask. Not to speak for them, but ... each dropped point, each poor substitution, each confounding tactical approach or comment from Rafa (who is losing equity with his base by the second) ... it's a further slip toward insanity. Nerves are being frayed. Brain cells are exploding. And quite assuredly, equilibrium is being lost.

Whereas for myself and the other Arsenal supporters I'm close to ... well we're just dumbfounded at this point. It's not shock, it's not shell-shock, nor is it even the despair and desperation I so consistently expressed earlier in the year. No, at this point, that's flipped from one Match Prick to the other. As you can readily tell from following Jim's week with Liverpool. 

Now, for my part it's plummeted to a numb acceptance. It's like I commented a couple of days ago. Win, loss or draw, it doesn't make a difference right now as there's such a massive gulf of class between where we are and where we should be. And it's dead painful. Note I'm not saying there's a massive gulf of class between the Arsenal and their competition. At the moment, that isn't necessarily true. They're still able to pull a result out of the meekest of performances (Hey! They've got guts and guile to spare! Just look at those last 10 minutes!). They're still able to move the ball ... wait, no, that's not even close to true. The team they've set out on the field is something foreign to me. They are poor. They are not good enough. Draw, after draw, after draw, even with such heroic last second efforts, just not good enough. 

There are starters missing, sure. There are pieces that need to be found or replaced, sure. But all the while, each voice out of the club is speaking as if they've only just put down The Emperor's New Clothes and are just completely taken with it. Each match we get the same platitudes from Arsene Wenger. I love the man, as is well documented. There's not a doubt in the world that he's an utter genius, but Arsene, please ... some of us out here are awfully smart too. And even for those who aren't, you know, I'm fairly certain they're able to pick up on a few things themselves. I've a hunch they too might be able to see these worrying cracks in our team that are getting wider by the second. 

There's just no way that a team featuring the likes of Alex Song, Neves Denilson, Emmanuel Eboue and (sadly, given his "every squirrel can find a nut" form) Abu Diaby is good enough to snare the points. Even toss Adebayor in there with the way he's been coasting through matches at the moment. (Again, Samir Nasri and Robin Van Persie look like our only true threats this year ... where the Arsenal would be without them is a place I can't even consider.)

So, brush aside the poor form. Brush aside Arsene's puppetry in each press conference, interview and every time he steps in front of a microphone. Hey! Have you heard that he's got an unflagging belief in this team and if only we'd give them a chance, if only we'd peer deep enough and close enough we'd see the true sparkle that is just perched to assault the whole of Europe and turn the beautiful game on its ear? Mmmm. Right. (Did you catch that drool of acceptance? Mmm hmm. N.U.M.B. folks.)

Right, brush it all aside ... at least the lads on the pitch can recognize the dramatic trouble we're in. At least they can recognize that it may well be time to panic and get all hands on deck (nowt wrong with a bit of panic every now and again, is there?). Editor's note: I really wanted to come up with a clip or photo of those idiots fiddling away on the decks of the sinking Titanic. No such luck.) Right? At least they can recognize that something is drastically wrong. Right?

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.