Thursday, October 29, 2009
I watched some You Tube earlier. Some magic tricks, you gotta love that shit. Went to work today. There was a nice looking chick in a Portacabin there, I told her I lived only 10 minutes away. I noticed that she’d got her hair cut, I made an effort to say how nice it was, silly girl, if I was a girl I’d have the longest hair, like a lion. Thought about lifting some weights earlier, had a feel of the chin up bar too, wasn’t all that interested though, didn’t eat dinner, ate lunch, ate breakfast, ate dinner yesterday, spent 40 on it, it was nice, I need to budget though. Thought I should ring my sister, see if she’d pregnant yet, but I only had my work phone beside me, my personal phone is in the car. Went out for a smoke earlier, gonna give them up maybe next week. Sat on the bench and watched the lights go by and the clouds diffuse the moon. Wrote some weird shit on my crazy blog about jesus and jim Morrison and space and time, wrote about a car journey. It was pretty good. Think I’ll go climbing one of these days. Up some real high cliff that’s real easy to climb, might get up early and train a little first. Eat some Spirulina, I’m starving, think I’ll eat breakfast, go shopping first maybe, when I wake up,
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Font & Bleau 2009c+
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On Wednesday night we flew, one hour into the future, into the East, where the first God rose, from a cosmos of Hydrogen. There were 5 of us in all. Our leader, Top Gun, was a man of short stature and high morality. He carried the seeds of babies inside him, like a Queen Bee. Our Producer had worked previously with people of exceptional intellectual faculties. He knew how demanding they could be. Like Artists are demanding, like children are demanding, but not as demanding as teenage boys are demanding, lost between the ethos of their upbringing and the rebel in their instinct.. His arrangements satisfied our every need. His schedules were cut perfectly sometimes leaving only 90 seconds to spare. He booked us into a vending machine Hotel on the first night. 4 of us drank to his memory in a small room fit for men with machinery for legs, while he journeyed through the doors of the ghost world into the realm of sleep and dreams. I listened from my bed while the Gentleman and the Englishman drank half gallons of beer to the toasts of our leader, a man of short stature high in the bunk above.
At dawn there was a bomb blast in a dusty Iraqi village. Women in shredded scarves howled at the mohammedan sky for the loss of their lot. The dead were a newborn awakening and somewhere the wind shook acorns from a giant Oak Tree.
Next we rendezvoused with a tall human from the West who’d exiled himself to this alternative world, this Artist’s muse where good Americans came to rest. He gave us the equipment required to complete our mission, our perambulation to the other side of pointlessness.
There were globular objects among the trees of the forests beside the fungus that grew beside them. They were immovable sand-made structures of various girth and surface features that tempted the hands and ballerina shoes of grown men who knew of death and rebirth and general relativity. We rode the snakes of temptation and pleasured our senses and our stern intellects with struggles and strenuous hardships of the kind our bodies had being built for but never experienced during the day to day trivialities of civilisation’s commerce and engineering.
Then we lunched al fresco on the warm bonnet of our iron horse before we sought more of the pointlessness and ever more arduous ways of achieving it.
At night we partied like there was no tomorrow. A Jeweller arrived from Sweden. He swaggered with a very manly gait from his car to our cabin and received a purple heart for bravery, for there was a litany of acorns falling outside crashing against cats and dogs and field mice, banging off car and cabin roofs and sounding like an aural meteor shower, yet he arrived unscathed into our base with a stony look of love in his eye. The Englishman retired to the cotton strata in another room behind a wooden door with a metal device for opening and closing. The Gentleman sat back while I videotaped a conversation between the Swede the Leader and the Producer. In their talk they solved the political and economical riddles of the day. And cleverly I had captured the details for eternity in a digital format and the wisdom would not be lost to the blackouts that followed the binges of our Irish hearts.
Morning came upon me as it often does. I wished it would go away again, I longed for the night to return and for my dreams to continue. I pleaded with my party to return to their slumber for the day is wet and there would be no point trying to defeat/achieve (zero = infinity) pointlessness. The spinning bullet in my head demanded I sleep some more. The aches in my legs and my arms and my feet and my hands regretfully emphasised how ill chosen the extra curricular activities of the previous 24 had been. And a warm thank you to the Scot who’d made the moonshine I’d fallen for again. I took my broken Irish cliché being, up out of that, and ate nothing lest I vomit on the cats in our garden. I sipped slowly from my water bottle as our driver drove us to the next destination, a place whose name I never knew nor had the inclination to want to care.
Later that day we journeyed to Elephant. Michael brought a Finn from Sweden with him. She was doing a doctor on soil. The soil in Sweden is acidic you know. I rested some more in the shade and dreamt of field mice while my party rambled around some more, disturbing the peace of the forest with their raucous tones. The leader climbed a tree then. I journeyed into the rocks. I even put on my shoes, they were a size too tight.
Later that day when everybody went to bed and I entered my sleeping bag and stretched out on the couch in the living room, she recited her pussy monologue in Finnish. I asked her if she had any brothers or sisters and then I told her that in space there are no boarders on Earth. She went outside for a cigarette then brushed her teeth and washed her hair then took a piss then finally turned off the light and let me sleep. I dreamt of my grandmother. She was being conceived on the Titanic. Great Grandpa Joe and his mistress Mary climaxed as an Atlantic Ocean iceberg crashed into its unsinkable shell and ripped along the starboard side. I was watching like from the perspective of that little dude in the movie with Meg Ryan. I was watching Joe’s bullets swim in the channels of body fluids and the best of them racing ahead with a face as pretty as my grandmother had been before the menopause. In the background angelic angels sang “cupid draw back your bow, and let your arrow flow”
I awoke some time later and smoked one of Vera’s cigarettes and drank some tea and ate not, for I had eaten breakfast the night before to save time. I needed to go. It was hard and brown, I cleansed myself with some crumpled Irish News and Journeyed on through the daylight hours.
It was wet, very wet, in fact it was so wet that there would be no point climbing. So we went shopping. I drank some coffees and read some Howl by Allen Ginsburg. He was gay and is dead. Some of his poetry was very rude and influenced me wrongly. I retreated to Decathalon where my party played table tennis. But I was too late, it was all over.
We retreated to our cabin in the woods. Acorns fell outside and sounded like the tap of a snare on the tin roofs of the cabins and the cars. They all went to sleep, so I went for a walk but after a while I couldn’t walk any further, it would take too long to get anywhere. I was trapped in the forests of Fountainbleau, In France where great American soldiers come to die. I stopped in a bus shelter and tried to locate myself using the GPS of the mobile internet camera voice recorder personal organiser 1000 fone. There was no use. There were no satellites available. I retreated and returned to the cabin in the woods, and regaled them all with the cock and cunt talk of Ginsburg poetry.
That evening I set myself a challenge, to finish the bottle of whiskey I had brought from Dublin. But it was too difficult. I knew I would vomit if I tried any harder. I drank long after the others went to bed and wrote a poem called September 1947.
Jimmy cut at an old tin
of Helen of Troy etcetera
e = mc². Fuck the Law
I am the new poet dude
gonna be a senator some day
I can eat anything
Then I took a walk outside, following the sounds of laughter from the edge of the forests. As the voices opened out from the laughs I heard they were foreign French or maybe Mexican. I stopped on an empty plinth that was built to house a small Father Ted Caravan and I watched the stars, in all their glory, the stars that the good lord had taken from me when he cursed my eyesight with physical disability, the stars that had for so many years been cloudy blurs in cloudy skies, the stars the optician had returned to me by the power of science, for as small fee, twice the price of a Portuguese prostitute I met one lonely night on a trip in Amsterdam.
In the morning I took a shit. It was softer and long and brown. Someone poured the whiskey down the drain and the day continued. We arrived at Isatis. I was in the blue team. And a lovely day was had by all. Apparently somebody walked up Science Friction, isn’t it amazing.
.
.
.
.
.
On Wednesday night we flew, one hour into the future, into the East, where the first God rose, from a cosmos of Hydrogen. There were 5 of us in all. Our leader, Top Gun, was a man of short stature and high morality. He carried the seeds of babies inside him, like a Queen Bee. Our Producer had worked previously with people of exceptional intellectual faculties. He knew how demanding they could be. Like Artists are demanding, like children are demanding, but not as demanding as teenage boys are demanding, lost between the ethos of their upbringing and the rebel in their instinct.. His arrangements satisfied our every need. His schedules were cut perfectly sometimes leaving only 90 seconds to spare. He booked us into a vending machine Hotel on the first night. 4 of us drank to his memory in a small room fit for men with machinery for legs, while he journeyed through the doors of the ghost world into the realm of sleep and dreams. I listened from my bed while the Gentleman and the Englishman drank half gallons of beer to the toasts of our leader, a man of short stature high in the bunk above.
At dawn there was a bomb blast in a dusty Iraqi village. Women in shredded scarves howled at the mohammedan sky for the loss of their lot. The dead were a newborn awakening and somewhere the wind shook acorns from a giant Oak Tree.
Next we rendezvoused with a tall human from the West who’d exiled himself to this alternative world, this Artist’s muse where good Americans came to rest. He gave us the equipment required to complete our mission, our perambulation to the other side of pointlessness.
There were globular objects among the trees of the forests beside the fungus that grew beside them. They were immovable sand-made structures of various girth and surface features that tempted the hands and ballerina shoes of grown men who knew of death and rebirth and general relativity. We rode the snakes of temptation and pleasured our senses and our stern intellects with struggles and strenuous hardships of the kind our bodies had being built for but never experienced during the day to day trivialities of civilisation’s commerce and engineering.
Then we lunched al fresco on the warm bonnet of our iron horse before we sought more of the pointlessness and ever more arduous ways of achieving it.
At night we partied like there was no tomorrow. A Jeweller arrived from Sweden. He swaggered with a very manly gait from his car to our cabin and received a purple heart for bravery, for there was a litany of acorns falling outside crashing against cats and dogs and field mice, banging off car and cabin roofs and sounding like an aural meteor shower, yet he arrived unscathed into our base with a stony look of love in his eye. The Englishman retired to the cotton strata in another room behind a wooden door with a metal device for opening and closing. The Gentleman sat back while I videotaped a conversation between the Swede the Leader and the Producer. In their talk they solved the political and economical riddles of the day. And cleverly I had captured the details for eternity in a digital format and the wisdom would not be lost to the blackouts that followed the binges of our Irish hearts.
Morning came upon me as it often does. I wished it would go away again, I longed for the night to return and for my dreams to continue. I pleaded with my party to return to their slumber for the day is wet and there would be no point trying to defeat/achieve (zero = infinity) pointlessness. The spinning bullet in my head demanded I sleep some more. The aches in my legs and my arms and my feet and my hands regretfully emphasised how ill chosen the extra curricular activities of the previous 24 had been. And a warm thank you to the Scot who’d made the moonshine I’d fallen for again. I took my broken Irish cliché being, up out of that, and ate nothing lest I vomit on the cats in our garden. I sipped slowly from my water bottle as our driver drove us to the next destination, a place whose name I never knew nor had the inclination to want to care.
Later that day we journeyed to Elephant. Michael brought a Finn from Sweden with him. She was doing a doctor on soil. The soil in Sweden is acidic you know. I rested some more in the shade and dreamt of field mice while my party rambled around some more, disturbing the peace of the forest with their raucous tones. The leader climbed a tree then. I journeyed into the rocks. I even put on my shoes, they were a size too tight.
Later that day when everybody went to bed and I entered my sleeping bag and stretched out on the couch in the living room, she recited her pussy monologue in Finnish. I asked her if she had any brothers or sisters and then I told her that in space there are no boarders on Earth. She went outside for a cigarette then brushed her teeth and washed her hair then took a piss then finally turned off the light and let me sleep. I dreamt of my grandmother. She was being conceived on the Titanic. Great Grandpa Joe and his mistress Mary climaxed as an Atlantic Ocean iceberg crashed into its unsinkable shell and ripped along the starboard side. I was watching like from the perspective of that little dude in the movie with Meg Ryan. I was watching Joe’s bullets swim in the channels of body fluids and the best of them racing ahead with a face as pretty as my grandmother had been before the menopause. In the background angelic angels sang “cupid draw back your bow, and let your arrow flow”
I awoke some time later and smoked one of Vera’s cigarettes and drank some tea and ate not, for I had eaten breakfast the night before to save time. I needed to go. It was hard and brown, I cleansed myself with some crumpled Irish News and Journeyed on through the daylight hours.
It was wet, very wet, in fact it was so wet that there would be no point climbing. So we went shopping. I drank some coffees and read some Howl by Allen Ginsburg. He was gay and is dead. Some of his poetry was very rude and influenced me wrongly. I retreated to Decathalon where my party played table tennis. But I was too late, it was all over.
We retreated to our cabin in the woods. Acorns fell outside and sounded like the tap of a snare on the tin roofs of the cabins and the cars. They all went to sleep, so I went for a walk but after a while I couldn’t walk any further, it would take too long to get anywhere. I was trapped in the forests of Fountainbleau, In France where great American soldiers come to die. I stopped in a bus shelter and tried to locate myself using the GPS of the mobile internet camera voice recorder personal organiser 1000 fone. There was no use. There were no satellites available. I retreated and returned to the cabin in the woods, and regaled them all with the cock and cunt talk of Ginsburg poetry.
That evening I set myself a challenge, to finish the bottle of whiskey I had brought from Dublin. But it was too difficult. I knew I would vomit if I tried any harder. I drank long after the others went to bed and wrote a poem called September 1947.
Jimmy cut at an old tin
of Helen of Troy etcetera
e = mc². Fuck the Law
I am the new poet dude
gonna be a senator some day
I can eat anything
Then I took a walk outside, following the sounds of laughter from the edge of the forests. As the voices opened out from the laughs I heard they were foreign French or maybe Mexican. I stopped on an empty plinth that was built to house a small Father Ted Caravan and I watched the stars, in all their glory, the stars that the good lord had taken from me when he cursed my eyesight with physical disability, the stars that had for so many years been cloudy blurs in cloudy skies, the stars the optician had returned to me by the power of science, for as small fee, twice the price of a Portuguese prostitute I met one lonely night on a trip in Amsterdam.
In the morning I took a shit. It was softer and long and brown. Someone poured the whiskey down the drain and the day continued. We arrived at Isatis. I was in the blue team. And a lovely day was had by all. Apparently somebody walked up Science Friction, isn’t it amazing.
.
.
.
.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
somebody fix the television
I was more in the humour for a funeral that weekend. A wedding, I could do without. There was probably something not normal about my mood at the time, but what was normal, whose idea was it anyway. I remember a time before the word normal arrived, everyone was different, there were only a few of us though, a little tribe, of one kind of animal or another, foraging through forests. I spent my days hanging in the trees with little Johnny and Sarah was so strange always shouting her head off and calling for laughter. She’d get us all killed one day, or kill us all one by one. She’d join us sometimes when she was trembling with fear, when the big cat was near. The quietest nights would pass, nights we never slept through.
When the Gods brought fire everything changed. There were two of them, wandering together. They carried precious stones and a dried fungus in a leather satchel of the kind we’d never seen before. They brought the fire from the ground and spread it into dead trees with repetitive gestures of the hands. They left with our weakest woman, we found her savaged only days later. We gathered up her ripped skin and entrails and bones and buried her stinking remains like a farmer buries seed. We settled then by the well and guaranteed our food with a plough. We drove through the night and reached the internet at dawn. It lay in a small coffee shop at the centre of vast metropolis. We drank frappachinos and macchiatos. The internet echoed the journeys of all peoples and all time. So I echoed back and it didn’t like that and it stopped like a circle repeats itself, and three spatial dimensions were revealed and time prophesised potential, at first it seemed infinite but revealed nothing at all.
When the Gods brought fire everything changed. There were two of them, wandering together. They carried precious stones and a dried fungus in a leather satchel of the kind we’d never seen before. They brought the fire from the ground and spread it into dead trees with repetitive gestures of the hands. They left with our weakest woman, we found her savaged only days later. We gathered up her ripped skin and entrails and bones and buried her stinking remains like a farmer buries seed. We settled then by the well and guaranteed our food with a plough. We drove through the night and reached the internet at dawn. It lay in a small coffee shop at the centre of vast metropolis. We drank frappachinos and macchiatos. The internet echoed the journeys of all peoples and all time. So I echoed back and it didn’t like that and it stopped like a circle repeats itself, and three spatial dimensions were revealed and time prophesised potential, at first it seemed infinite but revealed nothing at all.
The wedding was in a castle in the countryside. It was a rich summer’s day. After the ceremony we paddled out to the island in the lake and disappeared into the pleasures and purposes that satisfy the excess of consciousness brought on by our oversized intellect.
I’m always born again in these moments. What about ya! Reincarnation I guess, remembering being, afresh again. A heartbeat is heard and a kaleidoscope of wild eyed visions. It is a familiar ocean, with interludes of hunger soothed by cessation. And it reaches the internet again, and it asks; What about ya? With regard to the pantheon of characters that have been, in fiction and exaggerated forms, that gave half cocked answers to questions we’d never have pondered, that have poked and that tweet. What about the universal mind of the self slaved lunatic seeking the moon and the money and the power and the glory and the peace. There are more switches in the internet than hydrogen ions in the sun. Six 9s is less than seven 1s. Jupiter, Jupiter, you full of gas. Astronaut, Astronaut why did you abort. Astronaut said the ape started it. The ape said nothing at all. His chemistry was of quantum mechanics. The infinite nothingness had congealed. For sure, the complexity was born of a randy atheistic wormholing Euclid.
I’m always born again in these moments. What about ya! Reincarnation I guess, remembering being, afresh again. A heartbeat is heard and a kaleidoscope of wild eyed visions. It is a familiar ocean, with interludes of hunger soothed by cessation. And it reaches the internet again, and it asks; What about ya? With regard to the pantheon of characters that have been, in fiction and exaggerated forms, that gave half cocked answers to questions we’d never have pondered, that have poked and that tweet. What about the universal mind of the self slaved lunatic seeking the moon and the money and the power and the glory and the peace. There are more switches in the internet than hydrogen ions in the sun. Six 9s is less than seven 1s. Jupiter, Jupiter, you full of gas. Astronaut, Astronaut why did you abort. Astronaut said the ape started it. The ape said nothing at all. His chemistry was of quantum mechanics. The infinite nothingness had congealed. For sure, the complexity was born of a randy atheistic wormholing Euclid.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Jim, Olive at play in the meadow one summer’s afternoon.
Jim catches a rabbit, to cook it on a fire.
Olive takes the rabbit and releases it back into the long grassy wilderness.
Olive returns home and tells her grandfather Syll all about the rabbit her friend Jim caught for hjer in the meadow.
Syll tells Olive he’s moving to Alzo City. He gives her his digital camera as a parting gift.
For years Olive talks with Syll over the internet and sends him photographs. When can I visit you she always asks. You can’t visit me he tells her, you’re too young. Alzo City is for old people, who are too old for the world.
Jim and Olive remain close all through their school years. Olive is going to be a photographer when she grows up. She is wonderful with the camera. She captures unseen beauty in the world, effortlessly. Over the years of practice and experience the camera has become like an extension of her arm. Syll is always hugely impressed with the photos she sends him, and one day speaking with her through the webcam he tells her he is dying, Olive calls for her mother and they watch him on the screen slip peacefully away.
Jim is still playing the computer games they used to play as kids. He leads all sorts of second lives, and trades credits for real dollars. He treats Olive well with all his money and promises to marry her someday and buy a big house with a garage and 2 cars. They sleep out in the meadow in the summer evenings and watch the stars.
On one such evening that Jim broke it to her how he was moving to Alzo City. His father’s company was sending the whole family to live there. Olive begged him not to go. And he begged her to come with him. I can’t go, she said, I’m too young, no one gets out of there alive. It’s where old folks go to die peacefully and easily. Not any more Jim told her. Alzo City is the new world. Whole societies have entered, people of all creeds and ages are living there now. I can’t go there Olive cried, stay with me she said, we’re young, we’ve the whole world to see first. I must go he said, I can’t disobey my father.
After Jim’s departure, the neighbourhood seemed quieter altogether. People were disappearing like ghosts through the gates of Alzo City. By the time her mother left for Alzo there weren’t many people left at all. Shops had shut down and schools, the roads were empty. Olive walked out to Dalkey and stopped into the Queens when the rain started. The bar had become automated since she’d last been here. She took a seat and an lcd screen lit up in front of her. She choose a drink and it poured automatically and a mechanical arm stretched it over to her. There was an old American song playing, she raised a toast to a lightbulb over her head and swallowed some of the drink down. She thought she was alone but was so use to being alone lately that she hardly noticed. She turned around to take in the whole room. There was a longhair in brown leather trousers singing karaoke. He sung so well she had mistook it for the original song. Her eyes crossed his and he stopped singing and the music played on and he came down from the stage area in the corner and sat with her. He told her how he worked the boat out to the island. And he told her about the anti-Alzo cult living out there. He thought they were all a bunch of slaves living out there denying reality. He thought this new world was great. You don’t have to work, you don’t have to do anything. There isn’t loads of people around getting in your way. All over the world it’s the same he told her. Alzo had solved all the major problems of the world by simply cutting the human population down. But the people still exist, the population problem persists. But what Olive didn’t realize was just how technologically advanced Alzo city was. Have you seen that old movie called the Matrix he asked her. Well it’s kinda like that in there. But there’s no farm full of bodies, bodies are vaporised into pure information. Electron by Electron, at the speed of light. It takes about 5 minutes to vaporise a whole body into the computer network. Olive had always assumed there was something tragic about the world but this was ridiculous. She expected the deep and tragic flaw in humanity was a false religion not a super science.
He brought her out to the island where she stayed for a few years. There were many characters living on the island but I haven’t got the time or the inclination to tell you about them here. The islanders lived in fear of their lives. They expected someday, that a satellite invisible in the sky would vaporise them into the second world of Alzo City. Sometimes they lived like every day was their last. And other times they were too tired to live at all. They each had a ‘don’t upload me into the Matrix tattoo’ across the back of their neck. The boat man would often come and visit Olive, he liked her, she was less annoying and naïve and crusty than the others. Olive and him would take boat trips along the coast. She always had her camera with her. She believed she’d take a photo so beautiful one day, a photo that captured the magical essence of human existence, that Alzo would realize then, that you can’t just transfer human life into a computer, there is that mystery they used to call the soul accompanying us. One full moon Olive had an idea for a photograph. She asked Saoirse’s lover Sean to take her out in the small boat he used for fishing. They went out by the light house and stopped the boat so the moon was fixed at the top of the tower where the light used to beam from, A diffuse glow radiated from the light house and a thin lateral cumulous cloud struck into the sphere like a sword. Olive took a number of photographs and was overjoyed with herself. As they rowed back to the island Sean told her what the boat man was saying about the mainland. How it wasn’t that bad, how man and machine were living happily at peace with one another and we’re just fool for exiling ourselves out here. Then go live on the mainland Olive said. I can’t leave Saoirse behind he said. I’ll show you Saoirse Olive said and she took his hand and stopped him rowing.
The next evening on the island there was a wonderful storm. Waves crashed against the dwellings and whatever Sean had said to Satires she was fuming and she struck out at Olive and Olive struck her back and they fought with each other all the way to the edge of the island. Others helplessly tried to stop them but ended up fighting among themselves and a great wave rolled in and snapped back into the ocean with Olive in its clasp.
The next day she felt a little dizzy and light headed. The sun was beaming through her window. She remembered then that the boat man was coming today and she remembered the fight last night. And she decided she’d leave the island and go live in Dalkey. The boat man thought her photo of the lighthouse looked nice. Is that all you have to say about it she demanded. Don’t you think it captures the essence of humanity, if you could bring only one photo with you to a desert island wouldn’t it be this. Shut up for a minute olive he said, I need to tell you something. You really don’t remember do you. Last night you were washed out to sea, you nearly died. They called for me and somehow I found you, but it was too late you were unconscious. I brought you to the hospital but it was too late, even with all the hi tech apparatus designed in Alzo and built on the Earth, there was nothing they could do. So I asked them to upload you, But there seems to be a problem with your soul or something, it’s because you don’t really believe in Alzo City. Your body won’t vaporise and you’re caught in a perpetual vibration between electrical information and physical information. This has never really happened before and were not quite sure what to do. I’m actually not the boat man and this isn’t the island it’s just a small glimpse of Alzo, a small stimulation we’ve managed to give you appealing to your sense of familiarity. Well switch it off Olive said, I don’t want to be an artificial intelligence, I’d rather be dead we can’t just switch it off we need to fully upload you first. You need to believe in us first, you need to believe in Alzo. There’s only one man who’ll make me believe. And with that the boatman left. And she found herself waiting in a dark room, seated in a soft chair and she heard Jim’s voice just like she remembered, and a door slowly opened and a bright white light shone in.
And she awoke once more and it had all been a dream. And the boat man was beside her and he wanted to marry her, now that he knew who delicate she was. And she wanted to know what the hell was going on. And he said you nearly drowned and I rescued you. And Saoirse won’t talk to you no more.
So she got better and they took a holiday. On the way to mars they stopped on the moon. The boatman went outside to walk on the moon. Olive really wasn’t bothered, she sat by a window reading a book about birds. Then Jim walked into the room, aged like you have expected him to have aged. He explained to her how he’d become rich inside Alzo and spent money on scientific research and recreated his physical form from sand and uploaded his mind back from the computer.
Jim catches a rabbit, to cook it on a fire.
Olive takes the rabbit and releases it back into the long grassy wilderness.
Olive returns home and tells her grandfather Syll all about the rabbit her friend Jim caught for hjer in the meadow.
Syll tells Olive he’s moving to Alzo City. He gives her his digital camera as a parting gift.
For years Olive talks with Syll over the internet and sends him photographs. When can I visit you she always asks. You can’t visit me he tells her, you’re too young. Alzo City is for old people, who are too old for the world.
Jim and Olive remain close all through their school years. Olive is going to be a photographer when she grows up. She is wonderful with the camera. She captures unseen beauty in the world, effortlessly. Over the years of practice and experience the camera has become like an extension of her arm. Syll is always hugely impressed with the photos she sends him, and one day speaking with her through the webcam he tells her he is dying, Olive calls for her mother and they watch him on the screen slip peacefully away.
Jim is still playing the computer games they used to play as kids. He leads all sorts of second lives, and trades credits for real dollars. He treats Olive well with all his money and promises to marry her someday and buy a big house with a garage and 2 cars. They sleep out in the meadow in the summer evenings and watch the stars.
On one such evening that Jim broke it to her how he was moving to Alzo City. His father’s company was sending the whole family to live there. Olive begged him not to go. And he begged her to come with him. I can’t go, she said, I’m too young, no one gets out of there alive. It’s where old folks go to die peacefully and easily. Not any more Jim told her. Alzo City is the new world. Whole societies have entered, people of all creeds and ages are living there now. I can’t go there Olive cried, stay with me she said, we’re young, we’ve the whole world to see first. I must go he said, I can’t disobey my father.
After Jim’s departure, the neighbourhood seemed quieter altogether. People were disappearing like ghosts through the gates of Alzo City. By the time her mother left for Alzo there weren’t many people left at all. Shops had shut down and schools, the roads were empty. Olive walked out to Dalkey and stopped into the Queens when the rain started. The bar had become automated since she’d last been here. She took a seat and an lcd screen lit up in front of her. She choose a drink and it poured automatically and a mechanical arm stretched it over to her. There was an old American song playing, she raised a toast to a lightbulb over her head and swallowed some of the drink down. She thought she was alone but was so use to being alone lately that she hardly noticed. She turned around to take in the whole room. There was a longhair in brown leather trousers singing karaoke. He sung so well she had mistook it for the original song. Her eyes crossed his and he stopped singing and the music played on and he came down from the stage area in the corner and sat with her. He told her how he worked the boat out to the island. And he told her about the anti-Alzo cult living out there. He thought they were all a bunch of slaves living out there denying reality. He thought this new world was great. You don’t have to work, you don’t have to do anything. There isn’t loads of people around getting in your way. All over the world it’s the same he told her. Alzo had solved all the major problems of the world by simply cutting the human population down. But the people still exist, the population problem persists. But what Olive didn’t realize was just how technologically advanced Alzo city was. Have you seen that old movie called the Matrix he asked her. Well it’s kinda like that in there. But there’s no farm full of bodies, bodies are vaporised into pure information. Electron by Electron, at the speed of light. It takes about 5 minutes to vaporise a whole body into the computer network. Olive had always assumed there was something tragic about the world but this was ridiculous. She expected the deep and tragic flaw in humanity was a false religion not a super science.
He brought her out to the island where she stayed for a few years. There were many characters living on the island but I haven’t got the time or the inclination to tell you about them here. The islanders lived in fear of their lives. They expected someday, that a satellite invisible in the sky would vaporise them into the second world of Alzo City. Sometimes they lived like every day was their last. And other times they were too tired to live at all. They each had a ‘don’t upload me into the Matrix tattoo’ across the back of their neck. The boat man would often come and visit Olive, he liked her, she was less annoying and naïve and crusty than the others. Olive and him would take boat trips along the coast. She always had her camera with her. She believed she’d take a photo so beautiful one day, a photo that captured the magical essence of human existence, that Alzo would realize then, that you can’t just transfer human life into a computer, there is that mystery they used to call the soul accompanying us. One full moon Olive had an idea for a photograph. She asked Saoirse’s lover Sean to take her out in the small boat he used for fishing. They went out by the light house and stopped the boat so the moon was fixed at the top of the tower where the light used to beam from, A diffuse glow radiated from the light house and a thin lateral cumulous cloud struck into the sphere like a sword. Olive took a number of photographs and was overjoyed with herself. As they rowed back to the island Sean told her what the boat man was saying about the mainland. How it wasn’t that bad, how man and machine were living happily at peace with one another and we’re just fool for exiling ourselves out here. Then go live on the mainland Olive said. I can’t leave Saoirse behind he said. I’ll show you Saoirse Olive said and she took his hand and stopped him rowing.
The next evening on the island there was a wonderful storm. Waves crashed against the dwellings and whatever Sean had said to Satires she was fuming and she struck out at Olive and Olive struck her back and they fought with each other all the way to the edge of the island. Others helplessly tried to stop them but ended up fighting among themselves and a great wave rolled in and snapped back into the ocean with Olive in its clasp.
The next day she felt a little dizzy and light headed. The sun was beaming through her window. She remembered then that the boat man was coming today and she remembered the fight last night. And she decided she’d leave the island and go live in Dalkey. The boat man thought her photo of the lighthouse looked nice. Is that all you have to say about it she demanded. Don’t you think it captures the essence of humanity, if you could bring only one photo with you to a desert island wouldn’t it be this. Shut up for a minute olive he said, I need to tell you something. You really don’t remember do you. Last night you were washed out to sea, you nearly died. They called for me and somehow I found you, but it was too late you were unconscious. I brought you to the hospital but it was too late, even with all the hi tech apparatus designed in Alzo and built on the Earth, there was nothing they could do. So I asked them to upload you, But there seems to be a problem with your soul or something, it’s because you don’t really believe in Alzo City. Your body won’t vaporise and you’re caught in a perpetual vibration between electrical information and physical information. This has never really happened before and were not quite sure what to do. I’m actually not the boat man and this isn’t the island it’s just a small glimpse of Alzo, a small stimulation we’ve managed to give you appealing to your sense of familiarity. Well switch it off Olive said, I don’t want to be an artificial intelligence, I’d rather be dead we can’t just switch it off we need to fully upload you first. You need to believe in us first, you need to believe in Alzo. There’s only one man who’ll make me believe. And with that the boatman left. And she found herself waiting in a dark room, seated in a soft chair and she heard Jim’s voice just like she remembered, and a door slowly opened and a bright white light shone in.
And she awoke once more and it had all been a dream. And the boat man was beside her and he wanted to marry her, now that he knew who delicate she was. And she wanted to know what the hell was going on. And he said you nearly drowned and I rescued you. And Saoirse won’t talk to you no more.
So she got better and they took a holiday. On the way to mars they stopped on the moon. The boatman went outside to walk on the moon. Olive really wasn’t bothered, she sat by a window reading a book about birds. Then Jim walked into the room, aged like you have expected him to have aged. He explained to her how he’d become rich inside Alzo and spent money on scientific research and recreated his physical form from sand and uploaded his mind back from the computer.
Monday, September 28, 2009
I speak German too,
but not as well,
I told the Spaniard.
.
My father used to beat me with a rusty chain what his father bet him with before. My mother was from France, she used to embroider butterflies into table cloths. She’d host dinner parties throughout the winter and we’d hear them down stairs beneath the floorboards, through the ceiling, laughing loudly through the night.
There was a priest in our Parish who was defrocked for doing mass on magic mushroom, he would talk about space and time and it didn’t make a lot of sense to anybody. The final stroke was a song he sang about Jesus and Mohammed atomic particles in the alter whiskey. Mrs Doran reported him for that one, she was the green grocer’s wife. They lived next to the butcher who turned into a murder one night. It was over a game of cards, he shot a man who pulled Aces and 8s one too many times.
I went to the school across the river, it was cheaper and the traveller kids went there too. When I eloped with a gypsy girl and made a baby I was taken out of the school and educated at home by the internet. At age 19 I left the town and went to Australia. I worked in a goldmine in the desert. I brought some money home and opened a little shop in Sligo where I sold my wood carvings. Mostly tourists would buy them. An Iranian American offered a sum of money for a business partnership. I took the money and he took my good name and mass produced the figurines of ancient Ireland for the American market. I settled on an island next and spent my days Kite Surfing the Atlantic Ocean. The man in mirror has hair protruding from his nose now. He is at an age where he talks of aging as he transforms once more, this time into a piece of furniture, like a chair. A passing child witnesses him as an eternal man poised in his moment. As a chair I’d have always been here, the child isn’t concerned with where from and where to. And when he is, he’s lying. He’s talking like a theoretical physicist alright but he’s thinking like an art student. He’s going to make a movie like Donnie Darko and get paid and go out to dinner and meet friends of friends and elope by the laws our presence is proof of. Enough about nothing and more about me, I’m going to write a picture book and get paid and go to a meeting with an accountant and then I’m going to watch a movie about 2 people for 2 hours. In the end we’ll all begin again, I was told. It’s the cosmic movie, so you better have some good incidents in there, and a fitting climax. God bless America, land of the free home of the brave, in words we trust you are with us.
but not as well,
I told the Spaniard.
.
My father used to beat me with a rusty chain what his father bet him with before. My mother was from France, she used to embroider butterflies into table cloths. She’d host dinner parties throughout the winter and we’d hear them down stairs beneath the floorboards, through the ceiling, laughing loudly through the night.
There was a priest in our Parish who was defrocked for doing mass on magic mushroom, he would talk about space and time and it didn’t make a lot of sense to anybody. The final stroke was a song he sang about Jesus and Mohammed atomic particles in the alter whiskey. Mrs Doran reported him for that one, she was the green grocer’s wife. They lived next to the butcher who turned into a murder one night. It was over a game of cards, he shot a man who pulled Aces and 8s one too many times.
I went to the school across the river, it was cheaper and the traveller kids went there too. When I eloped with a gypsy girl and made a baby I was taken out of the school and educated at home by the internet. At age 19 I left the town and went to Australia. I worked in a goldmine in the desert. I brought some money home and opened a little shop in Sligo where I sold my wood carvings. Mostly tourists would buy them. An Iranian American offered a sum of money for a business partnership. I took the money and he took my good name and mass produced the figurines of ancient Ireland for the American market. I settled on an island next and spent my days Kite Surfing the Atlantic Ocean. The man in mirror has hair protruding from his nose now. He is at an age where he talks of aging as he transforms once more, this time into a piece of furniture, like a chair. A passing child witnesses him as an eternal man poised in his moment. As a chair I’d have always been here, the child isn’t concerned with where from and where to. And when he is, he’s lying. He’s talking like a theoretical physicist alright but he’s thinking like an art student. He’s going to make a movie like Donnie Darko and get paid and go out to dinner and meet friends of friends and elope by the laws our presence is proof of. Enough about nothing and more about me, I’m going to write a picture book and get paid and go to a meeting with an accountant and then I’m going to watch a movie about 2 people for 2 hours. In the end we’ll all begin again, I was told. It’s the cosmic movie, so you better have some good incidents in there, and a fitting climax. God bless America, land of the free home of the brave, in words we trust you are with us.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-Usually it is dim or else it is a vast open space and bright. Usually I fly but electric lines always disrupt me. There is often drugs, fun drugs not medicines. There are often little clusters of just enough weed, stinking sweet and fresh. There are coloured pills that never get eaten, sometimes they morph into larger smooth pebbles. There are never syringes, mirrors or apparatus. Sometimes there are mushrooms of all imagined variety, they never get eaten, but sometimes they have been eaten. When I awake I am paralysed, not breathing and a heart beats beyond the horizon. I see my surroundings as sharp as dawn, then, I awake once more into a different environment. It holds me. And like the wake behind a sailboat my life as I know it stretches out as memory on the surface of my ocean mind. I begin to breathe ever so slightly and in any instant now I will move with a sudden bolt and then the games are up. The day is certain, and some knowledge settles as dream and some as truth and some I’m never sure of. I shake away the internal universe of knowledge and reach out into the known world. First thing I see; clocks, my face in the mirror, always inside a building and with an agenda. I work outside. Someday I’m gonna buy a better building. A Crannóg maybe. The people make sense, each uniquely manning their station. With the knowledge of neutrinos fucking us all as they journey across our Galaxy, I realise something, again, as though for the first time again, and I am elated and I forget all my contracts with the Earth, the Mother ship of the human species. I look into the eyes of the Father Sun, and burn, and blinded I say to the girl who’s trading language with the currency of time, “Hi” and she moves next, like the puppet’s puppeteer and dances like a silhouette on fire.
In the evening I catch 2 Dragon Flys making out on my spout. The next day, while cleaning my building after the delivery of a cowhide couch, I hoover up a proud spider and his Dragon Fly prey. God bless the Christians, Allahu Ackbar. This message was brought to you by the good people at the USA.-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
In the evening I catch 2 Dragon Flys making out on my spout. The next day, while cleaning my building after the delivery of a cowhide couch, I hoover up a proud spider and his Dragon Fly prey. God bless the Christians, Allahu Ackbar. This message was brought to you by the good people at the USA.-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oMonday, September 21, 2009
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
Because a fire was in my head,
.
The Examiner lay on his desk. He was typing in a red font, something important no doubt. I thought I better make this quick and leave him. Here is my usb key I said, take this and give me some information. He stuck it in his lap top and downloaded a bunch of zeros and ones in branches of order. I took it and stuck it in my pocket. As I faffed I flipped his newspaper over. Funnily enough I had read the examiner this morning at breakfast in Ann’s. It took me an extra coffee to get through it all. Wow look at the dinosaur, I said as he settled back into his red writing letter, a lizard, a dragon I said as I read the caption beneath. And then I left to buy some furniture, some shelving for another office. The dragon like a stone. I drove to limerick and stopped at a DIY store, they had all kinds of shelving and apparatus for building all kinds of shelving, maybe I should come back with some measurements. I was drawn into the furniture store next door, but they had none of the kind of shelving I wanted. Then I bought a couch, I needed a new one, the last one got burnt real bad when I blew up the living room. As I left I was drawn to the doors of the pet shop next door, I think it was the person that had just entered, she was female and shapely. Always use a pet shop. They were the wise words I had given a young movie student who lived with me one time, then I pissed in the fire and said I am the idiot king I can fuck anything. I saw some some Dragons and they were mesmerising. I got home and cut down some trees. Twas a beautiful Autumnal evening, I wanted to savour it and write Autumnal poetry and smoke weed in the fresh lively shrug to the end of summer.
Cheers, I said, but I can’t go on no boat ride, I’m on a mission to save the world from green house gas. In another email Catríona said stuff about the joys of her existence, she called the song I sent her Twee. Twit. I continued to eat my General chicken. I opened the next mail. I couldn’t go on, reading the letter. Buried in there was stuff about sex with syringes. I finished my dinner and tapped away. The phone rang, I thought it might be my brother about Vegas, it wasn’t. It was a question about Electricity. I told her to flick the blue switch.
The Examiner lay on his desk. He was typing in a red font, something important no doubt. I thought I better make this quick and leave him. Here is my usb key I said, take this and give me some information. He stuck it in his lap top and downloaded a bunch of zeros and ones in branches of order. I took it and stuck it in my pocket. As I faffed I flipped his newspaper over. Funnily enough I had read the examiner this morning at breakfast in Ann’s. It took me an extra coffee to get through it all. Wow look at the dinosaur, I said as he settled back into his red writing letter, a lizard, a dragon I said as I read the caption beneath. And then I left to buy some furniture, some shelving for another office. The dragon like a stone. I drove to limerick and stopped at a DIY store, they had all kinds of shelving and apparatus for building all kinds of shelving, maybe I should come back with some measurements. I was drawn into the furniture store next door, but they had none of the kind of shelving I wanted. Then I bought a couch, I needed a new one, the last one got burnt real bad when I blew up the living room. As I left I was drawn to the doors of the pet shop next door, I think it was the person that had just entered, she was female and shapely. Always use a pet shop. They were the wise words I had given a young movie student who lived with me one time, then I pissed in the fire and said I am the idiot king I can fuck anything. I saw some some Dragons and they were mesmerising. I got home and cut down some trees. Twas a beautiful Autumnal evening, I wanted to savour it and write Autumnal poetry and smoke weed in the fresh lively shrug to the end of summer.
Cheers, I said, but I can’t go on no boat ride, I’m on a mission to save the world from green house gas. In another email Catríona said stuff about the joys of her existence, she called the song I sent her Twee. Twit. I continued to eat my General chicken. I opened the next mail. I couldn’t go on, reading the letter. Buried in there was stuff about sex with syringes. I finished my dinner and tapped away. The phone rang, I thought it might be my brother about Vegas, it wasn’t. It was a question about Electricity. I told her to flick the blue switch.
.
.
.
.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
**
.
.
.
.
Last weekend, the staff who organise activities for me, took me to Innis Oir....
***
... in labyrinths of the Earth for a geological period.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Last weekend, the staff who organise activities for me, took me to Innis Oir....
***
... in labyrinths of the Earth for a geological period.
.
.
.
.
.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Horses Glen
.
.
About the three lakes of the Horses Glen is some beautiful scenery. Excellent hiking in rough and varied ground. The Boulders add to the scenery. ...
***
...The rocks appear to have never been climbed before. But they are too remote too few and too small. The three lakes await a weekend expedition, for a thorough exploration. Bring a brush and don’t worry about parking the car, there were no signs of smashed windows at area 1. I didn’t check area 4, there are a few boulders there. Area 6 is a beautiful camping spot with a sheer climbing route.
From the car walk to 2 and turn left.
.
2nd boulder lakeshore, near area 3
.
-area 5
.
.
About the three lakes of the Horses Glen is some beautiful scenery. Excellent hiking in rough and varied ground. The Boulders add to the scenery. ...
***
...The rocks appear to have never been climbed before. But they are too remote too few and too small. The three lakes await a weekend expedition, for a thorough exploration. Bring a brush and don’t worry about parking the car, there were no signs of smashed windows at area 1. I didn’t check area 4, there are a few boulders there. Area 6 is a beautiful camping spot with a sheer climbing route.
From the car walk to 2 and turn left.
.
2nd boulder lakeshore, near area 3
.
-area 5
.
.
-the hunting season is over, bring your own food
.
.
-area 6
.
.
.
.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Karen Tool
.
.
Cool Runnings rose ...
***
... the Block Boulder in Haggs Glen.
.
.
Go out and face death
Dressed like a penguin
Come out like Batman, James Bond
.
.
.
.
Cool Runnings rose ...
***
... the Block Boulder in Haggs Glen.
.
.
Go out and face death
Dressed like a penguin
Come out like Batman, James Bond
.
.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Sunday, December 14, 2008
I'd rather be in Australia,
-stuopid cuntree
Today in lieu of pointless climbing, due to the frozen underfoot, a pointless hike to the top of electric mountain happened.
We were warned not to enter the electric mountain.
So Davo punched the fence in a fury of pointlessness
And we descended.
I told him about the fools I had to endure the previous night,
The fools who had no understanding of the relationship between consciousness and cosmic rays,
Fools who knew nothing of the structure of the universe or the material of the mind.
But he wasn’t listening,
He was thinking about shortbread he had baked and he was taking it from his bag.
And I went on anyway, because I liked to go on about how in the beginning there was nothing. I went on with my introduction to reality, about how the infinite nothing condensed into hydrogen ions, which gathered into stars and were fused together, becoming helium and beryllium and oxygen and carbon atoms. Atoms which were in turn fused again in the centre of giant stars into iron atoms, atoms that were fused again by the might of supernovas into gold and plutonium.
But he wasn’t listening and I took some short bread and I ate it.
-stuopid cuntree
Today in lieu of pointless climbing, due to the frozen underfoot, a pointless hike to the top of electric mountain happened.
We were warned not to enter the electric mountain.
So Davo punched the fence in a fury of pointlessness
And we descended.
I told him about the fools I had to endure the previous night,
The fools who had no understanding of the relationship between consciousness and cosmic rays,
Fools who knew nothing of the structure of the universe or the material of the mind.
But he wasn’t listening,
He was thinking about shortbread he had baked and he was taking it from his bag.
And I went on anyway, because I liked to go on about how in the beginning there was nothing. I went on with my introduction to reality, about how the infinite nothing condensed into hydrogen ions, which gathered into stars and were fused together, becoming helium and beryllium and oxygen and carbon atoms. Atoms which were in turn fused again in the centre of giant stars into iron atoms, atoms that were fused again by the might of supernovas into gold and plutonium.
But he wasn’t listening and I took some short bread and I ate it.
.
.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Fontainebleau 2008a
Fontainebleau 2008a
Starring, in alphabetical order
Pedronaut
crew
Davo
Dermott from Clondalkin
Executive Producer
Mr. Quigley
Starring, in alphabetical order
Pedronaut
crew
Davo
Dermott from Clondalkin
Executive Producer
Mr. Quigley
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Saturday
Today I woke up. At about eleven o’clock.
Alana May wanted to play with me because her boyfriend was occupied. I thought I’d take her into town and eat and I could buy that book I left in a pub last week and lost forever. But then I remembered that I’m supposed to be training for font. So I checked my phone, it was dead, the last I’d heard from it was the death rattle bleep diddley bleep as it drifted into darkness as I fell into slumber as the world turned off. I missed the call from young Smith. Something about pointless climbing. Thank God. I was god dammnd tired. I’d been working all week and smoking pot all night with friends of this depressed guy I used to know.
So we stopped in Enniskerry for breakfast. I had two helpings of lunch and a cup of coffee. It was good value, because I sent Alana in to pay and she only paid for herself, well how was I supposed to know, I’m an idiot, this is an idiot place, I mean what the fuck are these ashtrays for, in case I stub one in my face. Not I. I’m far too pretty. I’m going to be a Star.
Some idiots were blocking up the gates at glendaloch.
Where does the money from the gates go the inquisitive little girl asked.
Shut the fuck I said and look angry toward these idiots who want me to reverse out of this National Park Gridlock. I get out of the car and I give him my 4 euro, his girlfriend is asian afterall. Just fukn use it man I said and go through the gates, I will follow like criminal.
The money from parking fees pays the interest on the loan the national park took to fund the gate.
My friends are met
Then we cross the river to see big Jim before we go. Young Smith is in a hurry, because it’s a Saturday afternoon and he is retarded or something.
Then I do Big Jane’s fine traverse in the super new hip way of doing it that’s never been done before in four holds.
So me and Alana head up the path. Some hiker is being jokey with me, grabs me by the arm and says something about you don’t need a mat you have a girl, I didn’t know if he’s been kinky and therefore funny in modern Irish, to impress his clammy hiking butties, or if he knows what a bouldering mat is and what the fuck I like brought it here for. So I completely ignore him, as soon as he looked my way with his arm looming forth.
On the path down some other thick hiker observed to her dumb looking Dilbert husband that maybe it’s[bouldering] for people who are scarred of rock climbing,
Then I did chillax, the first foto is my incorrect way, the second photo is the correct way – right hand, higher.
Alana May wanted to play with me because her boyfriend was occupied. I thought I’d take her into town and eat and I could buy that book I left in a pub last week and lost forever. But then I remembered that I’m supposed to be training for font. So I checked my phone, it was dead, the last I’d heard from it was the death rattle bleep diddley bleep as it drifted into darkness as I fell into slumber as the world turned off. I missed the call from young Smith. Something about pointless climbing. Thank God. I was god dammnd tired. I’d been working all week and smoking pot all night with friends of this depressed guy I used to know.
So we stopped in Enniskerry for breakfast. I had two helpings of lunch and a cup of coffee. It was good value, because I sent Alana in to pay and she only paid for herself, well how was I supposed to know, I’m an idiot, this is an idiot place, I mean what the fuck are these ashtrays for, in case I stub one in my face. Not I. I’m far too pretty. I’m going to be a Star.
Some idiots were blocking up the gates at glendaloch.
Where does the money from the gates go the inquisitive little girl asked.
Shut the fuck I said and look angry toward these idiots who want me to reverse out of this National Park Gridlock. I get out of the car and I give him my 4 euro, his girlfriend is asian afterall. Just fukn use it man I said and go through the gates, I will follow like criminal.
The money from parking fees pays the interest on the loan the national park took to fund the gate.
My friends are met
Then we cross the river to see big Jim before we go. Young Smith is in a hurry, because it’s a Saturday afternoon and he is retarded or something.
Then I do Big Jane’s fine traverse in the super new hip way of doing it that’s never been done before in four holds.
So me and Alana head up the path. Some hiker is being jokey with me, grabs me by the arm and says something about you don’t need a mat you have a girl, I didn’t know if he’s been kinky and therefore funny in modern Irish, to impress his clammy hiking butties, or if he knows what a bouldering mat is and what the fuck I like brought it here for. So I completely ignore him, as soon as he looked my way with his arm looming forth.
On the path down some other thick hiker observed to her dumb looking Dilbert husband that maybe it’s[bouldering] for people who are scarred of rock climbing,
Then I did chillax, the first foto is my incorrect way, the second photo is the correct way – right hand, higher.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Mall Hill
Today i awoke and had some quiche and scones. And a coke in the car
I wet my shoes long jumping across the river
I picked some wild mushrooms that grew on the hillside
I went to the forest and climbed Living the dream
I met my friends then
one of them took these awful photographs which i promptly cropped and colour adjusted etc.
Here i stand before the lovely dyno in mall hill
I will set up crouched
my feet at where the Levi tag is
My hands at the top of the apex at my upper right arm
This is a sport mode shot
taken in the milliseconds when i was completely in the air unattached from the rock
This is the double hand landing.
Hanging here my feet can't reach where they launched from, making this dyno longer than the classic on top of three rock mountain in Dublin.
One time from the top of Three Rock mountain, i saw a lightning storm reign over the city.
I wet my shoes long jumping across the river
I picked some wild mushrooms that grew on the hillside
I went to the forest and climbed Living the dream
I met my friends then
one of them took these awful photographs which i promptly cropped and colour adjusted etc.
Here i stand before the lovely dyno in mall hill
I will set up crouched
my feet at where the Levi tag is
My hands at the top of the apex at my upper right arm
This is a sport mode shot
taken in the milliseconds when i was completely in the air unattached from the rock
This is the double hand landing.
Hanging here my feet can't reach where they launched from, making this dyno longer than the classic on top of three rock mountain in Dublin.
One time from the top of Three Rock mountain, i saw a lightning storm reign over the city.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
pointless Climbing
foto; Gregor 07-Sep-2008
Arete Big Jane, west side
using only 4 hand holds
start ; lunge for good hold, dynamic move for wedge, top out on rail.
foto; Gregor 07-Sep-2008
Left side arete, on rock right of the Fin Glendaloch
using only left hand
mantle is hardest part.
Ice 9
FA: PM, 07/08/2006
Location, Carrigshouk north side, visible from the road between Sally Gap & Lara
very nice Dyno, safe sloping landing, 6+
Coffee Dyno
-foto; Flano
FA: P M
Location, Glendassan, north side of mining village car park.
just above the scree.
Nice Dyno, 6+ , easy if you are tall, good obvious holds.
There are nice static problems too.
Ciaran (see below) directed me and Dave to this rock.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Back to Black
.
"..up the trail up camaderry is a huge boulder with a fantastic looking problem, its an overhanging arete with a nasty looking sloping mantle finish.."
-http://www.theshortspan.com/mboard/msg/11795.html
.
thanks ciaran, i call it Back to Black
FA 07/06/2008
sit start below Dave's right hand, mantle finish
.
-photos PM 17/03/2008
.
"..up the trail up camaderry is a huge boulder with a fantastic looking problem, its an overhanging arete with a nasty looking sloping mantle finish.."
-http://www.theshortspan.com/mboard/msg/11795.html
.
thanks ciaran, i call it Back to Black
FA 07/06/2008
sit start below Dave's right hand, mantle finish
.
-photos PM 17/03/2008
.
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