A month without alcohol

D’fógair TG4 postanna samhradh i gcóir aisteoirí thuas i mBéil Feiriste. Ní aisteoir mé in aon chor ach chuir mé isteach air ar aon nós agus seo an ríomhphoist a sheol mé chucu.

A chara,
Tá a fhios agam go bhfuil sé seo beagáinín dénach agus dá bhrí sin bheinn tapaí.Táim 19 mblianna daois agus comh gleoite fós is an lá inar rugadh mé(dar liom féin agus aontaíonn mo Mhaithir). Tá gaeilge níos mó labhartha ná scríofa agam ach i mo thuraim uasal féin tá níos mó beocht i dteanga labhartha ná teanga liteartha.
Táim ag staidéir Media Arts i DIT .Táim sa chéad bhliann agus mar bhall do Cumann Ghaeileach DIT.
Ó thaobh taithí aisteoracht de, rinne mé dramaíocht ar feadh seal mar laid óg sa Royal Irish Academy ach is fada an lá ó rinne mé aon aisteoracht foirmiúl. Ó thoabh aisteoracht neamh-fhoirmiúl de áfach, d’fhéadfainn a rá gur phléice, camiléar, bréagadóir agus chancer cearrt mé (is léir go bhfuil ná scilleanna céanna a n-úsáid agam le aisteoir profeisiúnta gach lá den seachtain).
Sin an fhírnne, ní bheidh díoma oraibh má thugann
sibh seans dom agus mar bhronntanas beag ligfidh mé duit an griangraf
a choimead.

Is mise le meas,
Rua

This is an extract from ‘the prophet’ by the great Lebaneese author/poet/artist Kahlil Gibran. He’s my hero, a complete renaissance man, and soon he’ll be yours too 

Then a woman said, “Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.”

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

As some of you may know work has stopped on the M3 motorway which was due to go through the Hill of Tara or near the Hill of Tara (I’m not entirely sure of the details). I sure some of my readers from overseas and indeed from home haven’t got a fucking clue where or what the hill of Tara is, much less the proposed M3 motorway.

The M3 is a new motorway that government has been quietly trying to sneak through for the last number of years despite protests by archaeologists and new-age hippie types. The main argument against the road being that the hill of Tara is commonly known to be the place where the ancient High Kings of Ireland were inaugurated and therefore its probably of archaeological and historical importance.

The Minister for Transport has pleaded and claimed that there’s nothing in Tara except a load of fields and a couple of spaced out New Age Celts for years now. Oh and just to make sure, nobody was allowed go looking.

The first sod of the new motorway was turned on Monday and on Wednesday a ‘massive archaeological site was found’ the ’size of several football fields’.

That’s all fair and good, what bothers me though is the fact that there were people out there who were actually surprised

P.S. I’m sorry for how badly written and stodgy the above passage is but I’m in a hurry and very very tired