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Killing Your Dogs And Darlings

You have to kill your darlings. The kind of line we’ve all heard, those of us cursed and blessed with the urge to write a novel, or at least a decent post or story. The darlings being the words you have fussed over and finessed before finally etching them in what might as well be your own blood into the page — only to realise, or to have it realised for you —  that they are not working, and they…

Killing Your Dogs And Darlings

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Good Things Comes In Trees

I stared up into a tree I had often seen but never looked at.  Until now. I followed the arching grace and curve of its shimmering trunk and extravagantly naked lower branches. Multiple ringed arms reached up to hold aloft its rich canopy of a myriad yellow-green leafed open parasols, lit expertly from above by the day’s still ripening sun.  I gazed for the first time at the algae and moss…

Good Things Comes In Trees

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Poo Are You?

This latest Blogfuscation was going to be a Facebook post to our local residents group. About the gobshites … sorry, people …  in our estate who let their dogs out alone, and they poo everywhere.  The dogs, not the gobshites. Though they might as well. A firm declaration of dissent figuratively nailed to the door of our Residents Group page like Martin Luther’s Ninety-five Theses nailed to the…

Poo Are You?

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Make Peace With Obese ... Or Gut Riddance To These Blubber Belly Blues

Shake the belly, as in shake it off.  I just can’t seem to shake off this monstrous protuberance that has lately risen from the gaseous depths of my own overworked entrails. Actually it’s been there for a while, but I chose to ignore it. Just blubbering … I mean blundering along. Eating and drinking away like in the days of my flat-bellied youth. It’s not like the signs weren’t there…

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Go On To Dingle, Ta Fuck!

Dingle? We just love it

So my sister and her older boy were in Dingle one evening recently, in what passes for summer in this whimsical wee country of ours.  The little Atlantic port town of Dingle, indeed the whole Dingle peninsula in southwest County Kerry, is a great tourist destination for Americans, mainland Europeans, and us Irish too. As they were ambling along the main drag, anyway, this young guy staggered…

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From Bottling It At Baileys To Bailing Out For Breda

So, with teaching crossed off on the single line of my possible careers, and no-one around who might give me a steer — or who I would have heeded anyway — I headed off to Dublin City.  Moved into the box bedroom in the house my oldest brother was  sharing, which was owned by a Civil Service pal of his. Don’t ask me where I heard about it, but there was work going in a nearby enough bottling…

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He's No Doris Gump

My first thought when that All Blacks bomb fell from the sky on top of Caelan Doris, late on, and he dropped it, was of course to be reminded of the helpless anguish of all those looking up into a flaming middle-eastern sky as those Israeli bombs fell on Gaza. If only — shamefully, I actually roared at young Doris, for committing such a heinous act in Ireland’s greatest last 10 minutes of need,…

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Summer In September, Part 2

When I knew Eugene first, this Peruvian with poetically eloquent French delivered in a rat-tat-tat South American accent, was black-haired, warm and incredibly funny. And, as I would discover, hugely well read and briefed on music and matters cultural. A recently separated dad of a six-year old daughter back then, he was still reeling from it, yet so full of stories and always up for the craic…

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