A Whinge

I seem to have gone a bit quiet here recently. Inevitable, really.
The tortured artist in me is dying to write about my pain using such words as searing, blinding, and maybe even coruscating. That's not really how it is though, so I won't.

Then yesterday the doctor diagnosed me with acute streptococcal tonsilitis (known as 'throat AIDS' to the more tasteless of us). An opportunity to put those pretty adjectives to use maybe? Nope, it's more just excruciating than anything else. But that word must be passé at this stage.

The question is, when someone is suffering an illness that makes swallowing even a sip of water extremely painful, why make the antibiotic that cures it the size of a fucking ostrich egg?

Comfort

Well, I could stay all sad, but i just found this.

Parting

It appears the potential snot production of two human bodies is absolutely boundless.

Kids on Prozac
The lies we tell
Creatine creatures and
how your face fell
Tears in the dark
headbutting glass doors,
hissing and snarks

Petrol and razorblades
How little you know
Sliding scales,
Jimmy Wales
Ribands and robes
Laws of the jungle
Inquests and probes

Cysts and trysts
Antiretrovirals
Meaningless lists
Skittles and Ritalin,
Sundown and vitamins
Tomato bread
Bottled piss

I want none of this.

The Week

dEUS at Tripod on Monday night were ridiculously good, playing with such power and skill that I felt both sickened and highly relieved that bands like The Red Hot Chili Peppers sell out stadiums at massively inflated prices, whilst groups as good as this one have to toil away in pub-sized venues, charging 25 euro a head.

Still, the tiny venue definitely enhanced my enjoyment of the gig and it was great to be able to go right up to the front without being trampled on or suffocated. My only gripe was that they threw in Instant Street as their second song, before the crowd were really warmed up enough to enjoy it properly. The crowd seemed to be of a similar demographic to me, with most people a little too world-weary or self-conscious to throw themselves fully into jumping around or singing along. My neck hurt viciously the next day and it took me a while to realise that this was a result of some very enthusiastic head-nodding on my part. The band also had the decency to close their set on another of my all-time favourites. So thank you, dEUS, for the Roses.







Tuesday brought me to the Amnesty International Duke Special vs Divine Comedy gig, accompanied by bloggers of all shapes and sizes. I've always quite liked both of these artists, without being a huge fan of either. So the gig, with both performers only playing a piano and occasionally accompanied by a guitar, came as a reminder to me that in general I like my music fairly stripped down, without too many instruments clogging the mix. Darren and Darragh have both written comprehensive reviews of the concert that I can't really add much to, except to say that Neil Hannon covering Duke's 'No Cover Up' was one of the most emotional moments I've had at a concert in quite a long time.

Tuesday also brought the Budget to those of us in Ireland. I'm no expert, but I would imagine the 50 cent that has been tacked onto each pack of 20 cigarettes is largely going to have to go towards hiring extra customs officials and airport and harbour police to stop an increase in the amount of cigarettes being brought in by the case-load for sale on the black market. you can get 200 in Egypt for the price of 20 here now, y'know. It's easy for the government to pretend that they instigate these kinds of increases because they don't want people to smoke, but in fact it's far too valuable a source of revenue for them to wan t people to stop. Which means that a move like this is, in fact, calculated to take advantage of people's addictions. Likewise, the rise in petrol. We are addicted to driving in this country because our lousy public transport infrastructure gives us no other option. From where I work I can get back to Wicklow in about 35 minutes by car. Or, I can walk 15 minutes, take a Luas for another 15, walk another 10 and then get a bus that takes an hour and a half. I'll stand by my car for now.

What Others Were Feeling Like Today #8

1927

I awakened without a kiss, had breakfast alone, dressed without talk; I had nobody to brush, to kiss good-bye; I am having lunch with Mother, and tonight I will sleep alone again. Am I glad to be alone? Was there anything I wanted to do while Hugh (her husband) is away that I cannot do when he is here? No. I miss him deeply, I have no desires, no joy at my independence; and I feel as if i were half alive. this wonderful life I praise so often seems blank and stupid today. I could do without my mirror, without lovely clothes, without sunshine - none of these things are necessary when I am alone. I did a few things to take advantage of my solitude, sleeping on the left side of the bed, which I prefer to the right, and wearing gloves with cold cream. And then, of course, I was glad to have the bathroom to myself. Usually i have to scratch the door and 'miaow' desperately to be allowed in, and even then I often get a shoe or a clothes brush on the head. Also, I slept in fifteen minutes longer than usual.

Anais Nin


1964

Is my inability to love based on fear of vulnerability & lack of spiritual generosity; or is it the profound belief in the utter hopelessness of human love? I think it is the latter, but it may be the former. I've never once tried. It's almost as if I know it's foredoomed; and yet of course I don't know. One thing is certainly true about me at the present moment: I have no desire for life. Even as I write this, the awful feeling of guilt about such an admission makes me want to erase it. Why on earth commit such a thing to paper? I suppose all diarists are lonely and uncreative people.

Kenneth Williams


Taken, as always, from The Assassin's Cloak.

Sighing, smoking, smiling slightly (Seasonal affection)

I sit on a bench in a bright, green space and contemplate the murk that has descended around my head in recent times, and the murk that seems to have surrounded many people - if the blogs I frequent are anything to go by.
There are too many things in this life that can cause confusion and unhappiness.

But, today, as I await the company of great people to enjoy great music with, the sun shines blindingly and endearingly, agreeing wholeheartedly with the trees and the people, agreeing with glass and grass, that this is no day for lying around like a tortured soul. Dublin must be one of the best cities in the world on days like this and I will sit and like it.

Am I that seasonally-affected?


Note: This was written yesterday. It is apocalyptically wet today and i feel like i'm right back in the quagmire.