A month without alcohol

I had the most bizarre day on Sunday. Moma Rua flipped, hell hath no fury like a 4ft tall northern mammy!It had been brewing for a few days, she started cleaning frantically on Thursday night and continued to complain about the state of the house right through Friday and Saturday afternoon. I was on my computer doing some writing on Sunday afternoon when she came in and started hissing about the kitchen. “look I’ll show ye what I’m talking about, c’mon, get up”-what followed was a four hour(yes, 4 hour!) civil war. She pulled out everything my brother and I had done wrong in the previous six months. 

She gave out about every single moment of embarrassment inflicted upon her by our vagrant ways including the apparent state we were in on Christmas morning(when having been home only a matter of hours I was informed that this year we would be attending mass-que?), the fact that I haven’t organised anything for the summer and the whinging staple “you’re both so lazy-I could have had a doctor and an engineer. Instead I have two barmen, only one of whom is employed and both of whom want to be ‘artists”. She also made it into “I don’t even know my own son-you never tell me anything” territory. Of course when she said it, it wasn’t so delicately phrased.

I actually took it quite well, which surprised both of us. You see, everyone in my family is capable of flying off the handle and intimidating/bullying other people. There is a distinct ‘alpha streak’ in all of us which is exaggerated by some very short tempers so fights are common. And nobody likes to back down, nobody does back down……ever.

I managed to avoid losing my temper for the most part, which is important because the second you lose your temper she has you. There was unfortunately one moment where my dad tried to jump in on her side and I told him to fuck off and stay out of it. Normally, one feels remorse for such things after the heat of battle has dissipated- not me, I felt and still feel completely justified. He’s been calling me lazy since I was 13, he will continue to call me lazy until I’m 50, he can go fuck himself. I felt even more justified later on when he tried to get me to take it back. Disrespectful? Of course I was being disrespectful, you raised me not to respect anyone who didn’t deserve it-bet your sorry you taught me about Socrates now! Besides, it was a two way argument-teams aren’t fair.

He also got a bollicking off her during half time when he naively tried to calm matters-the fool, calming momma Rua down when she has a taste for blood is like trying to throw the rain back into the clouds. All you can do is find some decent shelter and hope she tires herself out. Which is exactly what I did.

However, as arguments go it was quite productive. I mean, though the battle was fierce the peace was complete. She aired all her complaints and cleaned out her system. I kept my mouth shut and avoided giving her any real ammunition-notably, my recent craziness. We had a big hug at the end, awwwwwww………

For the record, its true, I never tell my mam about half the stuff I get up to-I never have. So she is somewhat justified in that particular allegation, but, there are reasons. She over-reacts to the point of farce, she can take the slightest whim and within a matter of seconds raise the level of tension to that of the Cuban missile crisis. There will always be certain things I can’t tell her. She fully accepts this, but its not gonna stop her from blowing up again in another few months(after Sunday I’m safe for a while).

Went to the doctor today and according to him I’m “probably not scitzophrenic”!! The main indicator being that I am aware that I’m hallucinating-woo, go team reality!
So why am I being trip-raped?(as in being forced to perform trippy acts against my will) He reckons its a combination of fatigue, anxiety(who would’ve guessed?), alcohol and a history of halucinagenic recreation. He also reckons that I might have a sleeping dissorder called hypnocogno-something which causes the mind to play tricks on you just as you’re about to fall asleep.
However, just to make sure I’m not schitzo he’s asked my to stay dry for the next two weeks. If I was genuinely crazy the hallucinations would continue regardless so if they stop we’re more or less out of the woods.
Another bonus of the visit was that I achieved two of my life goals. I got a doctor to use the phrases “well, I don’t think you pose a risk to yourself or others” and the classic “you don’t look psychotic”!!

Went to Wax last night, it was pretty good. “Full on fuck you up heavy heavy hits louder faster longer stronger dance and trance and rave the crest of a happy wave”-to be Frank, you won’t get a more coherant description than that. If I were to have one criticsm it’d be that the place was full of pill heads and those awful people who use the term ‘new rave’. But, if you want loud fast music and nice grooves and lots of base then thats to be expected.
Some prick started on me. Nobody ever starts on me, I’m far too nice(cough). His mate was off his face(pills not booze) and getting a bit too carried away altogether, banging into everyone and generally being an eejit. The guy was bouncing back into my mate and really knocking her about(her being a slight and polite English girl) so I decided that I’d come accross and stand where she was-not provocative at all, I was doing the right thing, fuck off fuck off fuck off. Either way, the guy didn’t take the hint so I graciously informed him that he was causing me a minor inconvenience. Then from nowhere someone grabbed me and whispered “I would fuckin have you!”. He was obviously there to keep the other guy out of trouble so I wasn’t too put out, I just told him to keep his mate from banging into me. To be fair, apart from the odd filthy look, they didn’t bother me much after that. Still fuckin’eejits though.
Oh yeah, remember that girl I was talking about(see Night of the Numbers). The woman comes with more baggage than an airliner. I was kind of half flirting with her all night and it got to that point where you’re dancing close. I was holding her hand and she tilted her head back and looked me in the eyes uttering a very sexy mood breaking “Wha?”(what a woman!). So I leaned in and said, with poetic drunkeness, “I kinda want this but I really don’t”. I didn’t need to say anything else, it was perhaps the single most accurate expression of emotion that I have ever conjured up. I think she felt much the same which helped as my “single most accurate expression of emotion” was still quite ambiguos by most peoples standards. I saw her about ten minutes later with another one of my close friends-half of what I liked about her is that she’s such a bitch!! I see trouble ahead but at least it won’t be me making the mess.
In other news, I was suprised and delighted to see a guy I hadn’t seen since I was in the Gaelteacht two years ago. I thought to myself, what a happy coincidence that we should meet once more. That happy coincidence got blown to shit by a much greater coincidence when I bumped into someone I hadn’t seen in 8 years!! She looked the exact same, except taller and with boobs(puberty having intervened somewhere between primary school and 2nd year of college). Speaking of boobs, I seem to be growing them-at an alarming rate.
The night link home was hillarious too. I found a deadly hat and we got half the bus singing ‘call me Al’-result!
Oh yeah, before I forget. If I start tripping tonight I’m going to see the shrink in DIT on Friday. I want some sort of psyche assesment because this is driving me crazy-wish me luck!

someone typed the following phrase into a search engine and ended up here

“The many guises of the devil, Ireland”

Yes honey, we’re officially bad ass

This is getting a tag all to itself

Saw this documentary on ‘proffessional pick-up artists’. They’re basically these nerdy guys who score incredibly beautiful women by telling them exactly what they want to hear. They all end up as patheticallly lonely sociopaths who are incapable of ‘honesty’ and hence any sort of fulfilling relationship. Kinda reminded me of someone I know. To be fair, all men think its their dream, very few of us are prepared to make the neccessary sacrifices for its realisation though-thank fuck-enjoy:

-

Proffessionals 

When the moon is high and stars they twinkle,

fickle lies from tongues do trickle

in the ear and around the mind

of a soon to be teenage bride

-

Red wine never tastes so sweet

as does from inside a lovers cheek

and poison rarely so toxic

as when it bleeds one so young

-

The rest of her life will be spent

 lamenting those last lost dreams

while he wanders on to another vestil fool

and another fleeting moments warmth

-

And all the while sowing more seeds and lies

and the seeds of lies

until all the world is choked with his lonely offspring;

mere shadows of what a man used to be

————————————————————————————

On a happier note, the last time I enjoyed herbal relaxation I ended up with this cheesey gem banged out in a draft text message. Again, its very cheesey but its so perfectly stoned that I quite like it so……….whateva

The moon is made of pie 

The rain washes the sky.

And the moon is made of pie.

I am so high, that,

 if I were to die,

I would not have far to fly

to reach that heaven in the sky

(PS: note the complex rhyming structure and non-rhythm. Art yeah?)

Funny thing happened there yesterday, I was casually chatting away to my mum when she let it slip why she was so desperately petrified of me doing any kind of narcotics. Apparently, we had the flu back when we were still one(when she was preggers) which meant that I have a higher risk of schitzofrenia/skitzofrenia(one of them has to be the correct spelling). All I have to say on the issue is that that information would have been much more useful about 4 years ago before I took too many brownies, went on a pilgrimage to Amsterdam, saw my arm turn into a tenticle in Bosnia, took a wad of salvia or started using weed as a home remedy!! No wonder I’ve been fucked up!
On the upside though, I probably didn’t have DTs so I can start drinking myself into an early grave again-yay! no blow though, thats bad mojo

Suas agus síos agus suas agus síos agus sin mar a d’imigh an lá dúinn.
Síos-scrúdú deirneach na Nollaig
Suas-táim ar mo laethanta saoire!
Síos-táim marbh, níor chodail mé aréir agus tá a fhios agam faoi anois
Suas-an phub!
Síos-Hoegarten, cac an diabhail dar liomsa. Ní thugann gloine deas blas deas ach oiread
Suas-abhaile, is féidir liom codladh anois
Síos-ní stopainn an fón, ní dúnaim mo shúile, thógaim cith agus amach liom arís
Suas-cannaí!!
Agus ó seo a dtosnaíonn mo scéal. Buail mé le roinnt cara liom ag ceapadh go mbeidh mé inán mé féin a ól tríd an easpa codladh. Bhí siad i TCD, céard eile a bheidh ar súil acu? A leithid de mí-ádh níor mhothaigh mé ariamh, bhí siad ag féachaint ar scannáin. Ba chuma liom, bhí alcól uaim agus bheidh alcól a’am-bhí coicís an fada agam ag staidéir agus bhíos ag iarraidh bheith dall. Mar sin, beir mé ar ceithre cannaí agaus ar adhaigh linn chuig an seomra léachtara.
Transformers a bhí ar súil-woo hoo! Scannáin deas simplí, éasca, amaideach, cáiseach*, greannmhar, foiréagnach, droch-scríofa, neamh-pc….ar luaigh mé amaideach freisin? Ar aon nós, bhí sé go hiontach. Bhí muidne ag suí ag cúl an sheomra ag gáire is ag magadh faoi achainn rud a tharla. De gná chuirtear amach daoine den sóirt sin ach, inár gcás, gabh an laid a bhí i gceannas buíochas as muid os rud é go raibh muid comh greannmhar-dáríre fuckin’píre!
Ar aon nós, ar adhaigh chuig dara stop an bus partaí-an Pav, agus an céad bochtúin. Bhíos ag caint leis an cailín seo, bhí sí deas suimiúl agus cuma maith uirthi. Ba liomsa a shúile agus ní raibh sí ag dul in aon áit nuair a shúil sean ghrá os mo comhair. Thit mé ar ais píosa nuair a chonaic mé í, stop mé ag smaoineamh. Anois, is an saghas cailín í a bhfuil stair aici le beag nach gach duine. Ní chuireann sé sin isteach orm, ach, chuireann sé faidbeanna i mo tslí. Ar aon nós, chonaic mo chara Diamond muid ag caint ó trasna an seomra. Tá stair aige léi freisin agus tá a fhios aige an cuma atá orm nuair a stopann cailín ag smaoineamh mé-beir sé orm agus tiomán sé as an seomra mé. Lig mé dó mar is é mo chara is fearr é agus táis am gur gortaigh sí é i tslí éigeann. Táim ag ceapadh gurb bochtúin é sin.
Gortaigh mé í sa tslí a ghortaigh sí é agus níor labhair mé léi ó shin(beagáinín casta?). Tá orm labhairt léi am eichint mar ní réitíonn rith ró mhaith liom. An faidb ná go bhfuil gnéas i gcónaí ina chuid súile agus a shúile i gcónaí orm. Sin díreach an saghas bean a leagan chuig mo ghlúine mé, stopann siad ag smaoineamh mé agus cuireann sin tús arís leis an ciorcle iomláin marfach sin. Bhí an cearrt ag Diamond áfach, ag an am a beir sé orm bhíos gafa aici. Faidb ná gur cailtheas amach ar beirt cailíní sa próiséas. Táim faoi-gnéasaithe** faoi láithir agus gortaíonn gach cailiúnt.
Ar aon nós, bheartaigh mé fanacht taobh amuigh. D’imigh an oíche ar adhaigh mar sin go dtí timpeall a hocht(thosaigh sé ag a sé dá len scéal) agus chuimhin mé go raibh cóisir ar súil le hadhaigh muintir mo rangsa-deireadh na scrúdaithe is a leitheid. Ar adhaigh liom chuig Doyles.
Craic craic boom shaka-lacka boom-gnáth oíche ag baint craic amach as a chéile agus bhí gach duine sásta is a leithid. Shroic muid an am sin den oíche nuair a bíonn daoine ag dul abhaile is ag bogadh ar adhaigh. Bheartaigh muid dul chuig Coppers. Ar an tslí cheannaigh mé trí burgair ar an eurosaver, is aoibheann liom an eurosaver.
Ar aon nós, shroich muid Coppers agus bhí muid leathbealach síos na staighre nuair a thug mé faoi deara nach raibh mo mhála agam, bhí sé ar ais i Doyles. Chas mé timpeall agus ag súil a d’imigh mé le mo eirebeal idir mo chosa. Dara bochtúin.
Pioc mé suas trí burgair eile ar an tslí-súil fada a bhfuil ann! Ar an tslí, buail mé le leaid ó Doire. Bhí sé cairdiúl agus bhí na beirt againn fucáilte agus bhí na beirt againn ag súil sa treo céanna agus bhí na beirt againn ón cúlra céanna lena faidbeanna céanna-Na Sé.
Tá sé deacair a chuir i bhfocail an tionchar a bhuil ag na Sé chontae orm. Níor fás mé suas ionntu ach is ó shin a dtagann chuid de mo chuimhniúchán is luadh. D’imigh muid suas chuig teach mo mhamó in Ard Mhaca Theas ar a laghad uair amháin in adhaigh an bliann agus mé ag fás aníos.
Tharla cúpla rudaí ansin nach dhénfainn dearmaid air riamh, ach ní stopann sé sin mé ag iarraidh iad a dearmaid. An rud is luaigh a chuimhin liom ná go raibh mé ag suigh ar an cúntair(fíor focail?) sa chistin nuair a d’eiteal helicopter breatanach os comhair an fhuinneog, ní fhéatadh siad teacht níos goire gan an teach a bhuaile. Beag nár leag siad don úrlár mé. Tháinig mo mhamó trasna agus beir sí greim orm. D’eiteal siad as, go dtí an lá seo níl clú agam céard a bhí ar súil acu ach chuireann an smaoineamh eagla orm.
Is cuimhin liom freisin, nuair a dhúiseodh siad suas thú. Ceantar caitleach a bhí ann agus eitleoch na Helicopter thar gach dian ar an bóthar i lár na hoíche. Chuireadh siad an teach ag crith, dhúiseóch siad gach duine taobh istigh agus bogadh siad ar adhaigh. Ní raibh aon gá é sin a dhénamh seachas as gráin, níl aon easpa páirceanna follamh chun eitealt os cionn in Ard Mhaca.
Anois, táim díreach fiche bliann d’aois. Sin cé comh dénach a stop an craic seo, agus ar na faidbeanna a chrothaigh sé a bhí mé ag labhairt le mo dhuine ó Doire. Níor chuir mé an cheist ach óna cainiúnt, ba léir gur Doire saor arbh as dó. Bhí sé bliann nó dhó níos sinne ná mé ach bhí sé den dearcadh céanna.
Ar láimh amháin, gortaíodh thú agus cuirtear síos thú agus chaitear aníos ar do chlann le bliannta fada go dtí an phoinnte go raibh orthu ar fad bogadh thar lar díreach chun maireachtáil. Tá cás agat, tá fearg ionat agus tá tú ag iarraidh na bhaistid a fáil ar ais. Tá an cearrt agat mothú an tslí sin, tá sé go hiomlán nádúrtha.
Ach, ar an láimh eile, má téann tú ag lorg do chuid sásacht tá tú díreach chun an diabhail rud a thosnú arís agus beidh sé chomh donna is a bhí sé arriamh roimhe. Má tosnaíonn tú é beidh ar do pháistí dul tríd an rud ceannan céanna is a raibh ort dul tríd agus láimh ar croí ní dóigh liom gur fiú é. Dén dearmaid ar Triocha Dó, ní dhénann sé pioc difríocht má tá síocháin agus cearta daone ag gach duine. An dhénann?
An taon rud a chailleann tú ná beagáinín bród, an smaoineamh casta ceilteach sin a bhfuil againn faoi ‘honóir’. Agus éist, níl comparáid idir an méad a chailleann na Gaeil ag ligint do na Gall fanacht aon rud nuair a smaoiníonn tú faoi siúd ag géileadh gurb fíor dhaoine na Gaeil. Ach fós, sé an bóthair is deacra bóthair na síocháin mar is deacair an rud dearmaid a dhénamh do aon duine, go háirithe na Gaeil.
Ar sin a labhair muid. Aontaigh muid gur sa gcrúcháis céanna a bhfuil muid agus a bheidh muid go deo. Difríocht amháin idir muid áfach. Dúirt sé nar cearrt dearmaid a dhénamh arriamh, níor thuig mé céard a bhí i gceist aige ach dúirt sé gur cheart dúinn na cuimhniúcháin sin a úsáid. Leis sin a scair ar gcuid bóithre, mise chun mo mhála seiseann chuig a bhaile.
D’imigh mé suas staighre agus beir mé ar mo mhála, ansin d’imigh mé chuig an leithreas. Ar an tslí buail mé le chuid de na leaids a bhí ag an scannán. Bhí Doyles plódaithe agus bhí craic le fáil ann so beartaigh mé fanacht.
Bhíos ag damhsa leis an cailín seo agus bhí sí go hálainn. Aitheann sí mé ón am ar ‘bhuaigh mé TCD’(bhí fonn orm an scéal sin a scríobh suas ach rinne mé dearmaid, freisin, ní chreidfidh sibh mé. Bhíos mar rí óg BAC an oíche sin) agus bhí ag éirigh go maith liom. Sin go dtí a tháinig Diamond trasna agus bhí an comhrá seo againn “y’know her boyfriends right over there” “Thats his fuckin problem” “I warned ye”. D’fhéach mé dhó gan smaoineamh agus léigh sé mo súile. Tháinig mo dhuine trasna agus stop sí ag damhsa liom. Triú bochtúin, bhí sí agam le mhealladh ach d’fhéach mé don trioblóid.
Bhí cailín eile ach bhíos comh feargach tar éis na triúr eile nár d’fhéach mé uirthi fiú. Ceathrú bochtúin, faidb ar bith leis an ceann sin. Glaoigh mé ar mo dearthar chun síob a fháil agus ar adhaigh liom abhaile. Rua feargach faoi-gnéasaithe** a bhí ann don lá iomláin Dé Sathairn. Ceithre cinn tríd mo mhéara in adhaigh oíche amháin? Glaotar Clinton Morrison ar an gcluithe sin.

*focail nua a smaoinigh mé ar díreach ansin-cheesey. An scannáin seo áfach, bhí sé níos measa ná sin, táim ag caint faoi premium french blue cheese
**Focail nua eile-under-sexed. Dáiríre, tá sé ag éirigh gruamach

PS: completely left out the revelations: 1)eurosaver lifesaver 2) the world is fucked we’re all gonna die!

Chicken bone is the name of a game  my Awesome American Friend(AAF) and I invented. It is perhaps the dumbest possible game ever created. In order to play one requires Herculean idiocy coupled with a distinctly warped concept of masculinity. Needless to say, its so much fun I just have to share it with the world.

It is essentially a fight but there are a few very important rules:

1. You may only attack your opponent using your funny bone

2.  You may only defend yourself using your funny bone

3. It is illegal to attack any other part of the body than the funny bone

4. Evasion is not permitted, cowardice shall be punished

5. Switching arms is not permitted(if you don’t like crippling agony you probably shouldn’t play)

There is no scoring system and the winner is the one who can take the most pain. Traditionally participants play for honour but gambling is not frowned upon. The most common tactic is to stand side by side and go for all out attack, flapping at each other like chickens. One game lasted a full five minutes, I woke up the next day and my whole arm was completely numb-its ok though-I fuckin’won!

oops! Completely forgot that I left you, my adoring public, completely in the lurch about New Years.

I went to meet my good friend and associate Designated Diamond Dave(check the blogroll if you like eart) in Blackrock. A mutual associate of ours had given us a tipp-off about a party somewhere in the area. After a quick stop in with 10-song-Jack  in the Avoca(which had a laughable ‘free in before 9pm’ sign up) we were off.

Our acquaintance got us in the door and we were safe. It took a few seconds but all of a sudden I realised, that most terrible of discoveries, that I had been here before! I still don’t know the name of the girl who owns the place and she still has a boyfriend so I still don’t care, but, the fact of the matter was that I was in this complete strangers house wreaking havoc for the second time without even attempting to be any less of a complete stranger for the second time…again…y’know like twice…….it happened twice.

Either way, I had had the good forsight to bring seven ’special friends’(6 Dutch and a can of Heineken I found in my room) so the evening went swimmingly/blurrily.

I got chatting to this girl who got very excited indeed  when she heard I spoke Irish and leapt at the oppurtunity to have a private conversation in a crowded room. I got her number but from what I remember it was more to get her to shut up than anything else, worringly though, I woke up with the distinct feeling that I had given her mine. Diamond said she was actually ok-I don’t believe him.

The Diamond test is the opposite of the Growler test. Growler hates everyone so(with very few exceptions) when he does like someone they’re automatically among the five soundest people you’ve ever met. Diamond likes everyone so(with very few exceptions) when he does not like someone they’re automatically the bastard child of an orgy twixt’Hitler, Paul Pott, Mao, Stalin, Dick Cheyney, Zogg the Destroyer and the Wicked Witch of the West(who must’ve been a real goer!). So, you can see why I don’t believe him when he says anyone is ok(hope he doesn’t read this, I’ll have to start second guessing him)

Anyway where was I? Oh yeah, I saw a load of people I hadn’t seen since I left school. Y’know that guy, he’s a real high achiever and a bit of a head wrecker? Everyone knows one. Either way, he showed up with an arsenal of narcotics-to say I was shocked and dissappointed is a gross understatement(not fucking likely!! woop woop!).

I declined the invitation to mushies and salvia owed to the fact that I was recently having trouble deciphering the real from the imagineary and I wouldn’t be needing any chemicals to worsen my condition(type delerium tremons into a search engine, you’ll end up back here). 

And thats how it all went down, I was surrounded by complete strangers when the clock struck 12. I was abstaining the bad things, although, I do have a very vague memory of assiting a friend in the theft of one and half bottles of white wine-I was really hoping I had grown out of shit like this, ah fuck it, I had MY fun.

It was a mediocre night, hope it doesn’t turn into a mediocre year. Oh yeah, I wasn’t able to walk home because my legs are worse than ever. Hope that clears up everything, in summary:

Yes, I am alive

No, don’t know her

Maybe, what type of wine?

No, not a complete asshole. About 3 quarters