Pedronaut

2012-01-20T17:04:00.000-08:00

In a minute it will be midnight. The day is nearly over, twenty odd days since I booked a ticket to font and commenced training. It’s good to have a meaning for training. Font is a good meaning. One time I went there and I wasn’t very fit and I stayed up drinking all night then just slept in Elephant and had a dream that mice were crawling about my toes. I remember it vividly. Though I prefer the word ‘clearly’. Vivid sounds like vague, it sounds wispy, foggy and unclear. There’s nothing sharp about the sound of that word. Its onomatopoeia sucks, there I said it. If I said onomatopoeia in the bar last night I would have been taken outside and gang raped by the local homoskeptics. Really it’s literary jargon, there’s no need for words like that in rural country bars where the Norm is a disheveled farmer talking to himself, mumbling and gurgling and clutching his pint and catching any passing eyes he can, with a look of neutrality, a look both wild and dangerous yet pathetic and pitiful. Its latter side can disarm a lunatic and make him take, its former side can establish bar room authority over a weaker man, who will nod politely and respectfully, then find himself engaged and there will be no room for words like onomatopoeia in the brief conversational encounter. And no room for words like disheveled and clutching they are boring words, ugly, they ruin speech, they are best left in printed form, for their meaning to press upon the mind. They are not musical words, they sound like schoolgirls discovering intellect and better-speaking each other.
I played poker in the bar last night. I won 100 euro, then proceeded to lose 5 euro losing 3 out of 4 quick fire “All in or Fold” games. A gentleman threatened to saw down my Turbines and send me back to Dublin. That was funny. I felt like I had breached the town walls and now possessed identity. My young friend Jimbo was with me. He didn’t play cards as well as me, but to be fair the last time he joined me there, he won second place ahead of my third. So I offered him some beer in my house and we watched various media projected from the internet onto the white wall at the back of my house. I sleep in the living room of late because my central heating doesn’t work. I sleep on the couch beside the fire. And I grew tired last night. Eventually it was 5 in the morning and Jimbo kept playing another song on the radio. He chose some good Miles Davis. I lay on the floor and he just kept drinking can after can. I couldn’t drink anymore. I hadn’t been drinking well all night. I wasn’t particularly interested in drinking last night. I have just enough hard meat on my legs and back to cushion, almost comfortably, lying on a wooden floor. The gentle constant sensation of a cold and inflexible bed keeps me from sleeping and makes me meditative in a ‘kind of blue’ hypnotic trance. By the time he leaves the couch and goes to the guest room, I am too close to sleep to get up and lie on the couch. I won’t do that until the morning after my colleague wakes me with a phone call. It is a fine morning. I have a pint of summer fruits ribena and clean the house and send a couple of email, it’s mid day before my slacker guest awakes. He smells like a dirty old man. I take him out of my house, down to the sea cliffs to clean out our lungs. He is not interested today in nature. The photographer in him is dormant. He walks past beautiful rugged sea-arches below us and lively Atlantic waves and crashing waves and white water spray. Without so much as a second glance he talks on about something in his head that I’m not listening too. He completely misses the point of this walk; to witness nature’s art and cleanse the mind. ‘Cleansing the lungs’ was just the misdirection that got us here. We should have gone to Waterford, did you see the 20meter fin whales off Waterford today!
I saw a pheasant outside my house today and three cats just sitting there not even watching it. They have it too easy I’m never feeding them again.

2012-01-17T16:03:00.001-08:00

Indigestion / Day 23

Maybe it was the bread, I bought it on Saturday. It lit a fire in my throat. I came home from work, watched an episode of it’s always sunny in Philadelphia, that was when I ate the bread. Then I had a nap. But I woke up burping fire like a dragon and hacking gack that was gurgling in my throat. I did the washing up and considered going out for a walk or something. I mixed some yogurt with water and drank it down but the fire remained. So I picked up that god awful fiction book and sat on the couch by the fire. Who writes this shit? For example there was a whole paragraph describing a man’s face. A man called Harris in Afghanistan, who may have been Mossad, a terrorist expert. Who cares! Why doesn’t he just write the face was old and weathered? Instead he goes on about how his skin was brown and how his face looked like it had been rolled in the sand and had lots of wrinkles. I don’t care. I don’t want to read about a man’s face. If I want to know about a man’s face, I’ll walk through the door and look at a man’s face. So my brain was melted after about three chapters of that nonsense. I switched off the radio and the lights and lay down to think about death in the dark. It must be a strange thing to shoot a man in the face. Then again I suppose in the end it’s no stranger than watching a spider up close, crawl across the wall or a snail on a branch glistening and moving in stop motion stability. It’s down to perspective. I was force fed Christian morality and social laws, and bathed in a culture opposed to murder and heroism and bravery. Yeah as I thought about the strangeness of wiping out a man it grew increasingly interesting, just like watching cold cream stir into a whirlpool of coffee seems interesting if you really watch it. I guess to a soldier or a murderer death isn’t all that strange and peculiar. And what of death itself I wondered. And I fell asleep, which was a dangerous thing to do at this hour of the day. I mean I hadn’t had dinner yet. I hadn’t done my routine of chin ups and bench presses and squats and stretches. But I woke with a dark of adrenalin. I looked at the fire. There were noises in the far corner of the room. Ghosts or fairies. I got up and went into the kitchen and burped and felt a fire in my throat. The indigestion was still going strong and I was waking up and it was late. I cooked some food. I wasn’t hungry but the chicken was already 3 days old I have to finish it. I used a lot of curry powder. I’ll throw the carcass out for the wild cats in the morning. But it’s important not to feed the cats too much, or they get lazy and quit hunting and the mice take over and breach the walls and crawl over my face as I sleep and piss in my eyes and nest in my ears. The food I made was pretty awful. It looked like pig vomit. But I ate most of it anyway and washed it down with a beer. I feel better now. The indigestion has gone. But I’m wide awake. I hope I get to sleep tonight. I don’t want to be up all night, looking at the screen and tired in the morning. I was tired this morning. I got to sleep late last night. I yawned through my safety presentation. It went alright all in all. I was going to sneak home for a nap after it. But some manager stopped me after lunch. And just kept talking and talking. I just kept agreeing and saying yeah ugh huh, mmm, ahh, really, wow, are you having a laugh. And then he’d say something really off the wall, so I’d get stuck in, use some big words, maintain eye contact, and he seemed to say yeah you know what I’m talking about and you know I’m just talking, I don’t know any of these people. Then I had to go to my colleague’s site, and we got delayed fixing a very basic fault and didn’t get the important business we’d planned done. Delayed, by over the top safety procedures. Anyway where was I… so I did 8 chin-ups today, while I was cooking that nasty insult to chicken, chicken dinner. -That poor chicken what lived in a box, what had a brain and a consciousness and a heart and lungs and instinct, what found itself in a box its whole life, what got its head cut off one day, what was packaged and shelved and sold and cooked and left in the fridge for three days and three night and was made into a curry goo and had its remains thrown to the wild cats of Abbeyfeale at dawn -And they were consecutive chin-ups. Yeah baby yeah, tomorrow I’ll do ten.

2012-01-16T16:22:00.000-08:00

So i figure today is day 22.
I was gonna do a load of chin ups today but i can't be bothered.
It's after midnight, i just finished preparing for work tomorrow. I don't feel at all guilty of late for sneaking off to the beach in the middle of quiet summer days.
And i was working yesterday, sunday. So in the evening i did a couple of stretches and then some leg squats and then i invented a leg squat where you rotate on the ball of your feet between squats, changing from left leg leading to right leg leading, i realised i had invented a good pre ski trip training exercise then i remembered i'm not going skiing. i lost the will to go on then, squatting on the living room floor. So took a shower and went out drinking. I didn't do much exercise on Saturday either. I'm not sure what happened that day. I woke up at 1:30 finished breakfast at about 3:00 then went into the garden and moved some wood from the outside to the underside of the barn. I might cut it next weekend, or the weekend after, into fire logs. Then it was dark. At the same time in summer i could drive to Killarney and get some exercise. But the darkness inspired me none, so i went inside and read 4 chapters of a book. OMG i don't understand how people read and write, nothing could be more awdful than writing pages and pages of fiction, and readin it, reams of insanely pointless narrative, you know what i mean. Movies are better.
So i did too many chinups and variations of chin ups and segments of chin ups on Friday evening. I ripped the muscles in my stomach more than the muscles in my arms. I was happy to take a day off and let the fibers grow and heal back but that turned into three days rest, but i've no time these last 10 days, maybe tomorrow. At least i only smoked 1 fag these last three days. Man who smokes these days, what kind of retard, i came home last night, and the thought of smoking made me wanna puke, then i fell of the chair, i think that's why my arm was sore this morning. Pathetic. Oh well at least i'm not Kurt Cobain, what a fucking idiot, he could have travelled the world, he could have lay down in the gutter and felt the cold, he could have watched movies endlessly over the internet projected onto a white wall eating junk and drinking fine brandy and smoking too much weed and wallowing in morphine, what an idiot, he could have spent his days shooting the breeze

the fifth man

2012-01-13T17:56:00.001-08:00

It’s been a busy week. I haven’t done much training. I been working long days and I’m not conditioned for that sort of thing. I was trained up with the ESB. The fifth man, that was me, often seen on the side of the road with four others looking into a cable jointing hole. I miss those days, money for nothing and electricity for free. I had a lot of shite to do in the office this week. And I had a safety audit on Wednesday, so I had to climb the Turbine with the safety guru and be patronized. Oh yeah it was up there in the Nacelle while I was being berated, civilly so I must add to be fair, but criticized and patronized nonetheless, up there on top of the gear box when my colleague got the message on his blackberry, we’re all going to Germany for three weeks in March. “it’s going to clash with your skiing holiday Peter” he said. Balls or Bollox or fuck or cunt I said and went up on the roof for a cigarette. Laughter sounds my colleague made next. Yeah hilarious stuff altogether. Culchie GAA bastard cunt fuck. Anyway I left a message with the Trip Organizer’s daughter, requesting we change our dates to April. I got a message back the next day, sorry you won’t be able to join us skiing, its too late to change the dates now, also you owe me 400 euro for your deposit. So I guess I’m definitely going to Font then. The training course I’ve been meaning to do for 3 years won’t be clashing with that.
Very busy week, I was supposed to deliver an email to my manager today with loads of documents attached, I’ll have to do that tomorrow. Saturday. It won’t take long. I was delayed this afternoon, had to climb Turbine and look inside a Gearbox to clarify that the service technician was talking bollox when he told me the damage was repaired and the case closed. Can’t believe a word them God damm Contractors say. Have to baby sit them sometimes. Maybe the reason five of us used to stand around a hole and watch was to ensure the work was done, and all these years I thought we were just being useless and lazy and chatting and grunting and spitting and laughing.
So I had a nap after work. I fell asleep reading the paper at my computer. This computer has been the death of me. The internet should be banned. I think I’ve spent the last 3 years watching TV shows and Movies illegally on the internet. I just had a shower and put on a pair of chords I haven’t worn in a while. They don’t fit anymore, there’s absolutely no way in hell I could close the waist button. Explains why I could only do 6 chin ups at a time earlier this evening at 12:30 when I felt restless. I need to work on that, its 10 years since I did my all time record of 23 in succession. A little project for myself. Pedro, I wanna see you do a one armer before font. I mean seriously sort yourself out. But for now let us watch American Psycho, with this coffee, packet of crisps, battenburg and quality streets.

2012-01-10T14:43:00.000-08:00

Day 13

2012-01-07T18:20:00.000-08:00

Today has been a rather healthy day indeed. I was probably still drunk this morning when I woke up at lunchtime so I rested by the telly watching nature shows about fish, drinking ribena and eating quiche. Eventually I took to the road. Estimated the trip would take about 2 hours and I was spot on. I waited for the duration of 1 cigarette in Ballyconnell then Rodney arrived and gave me the piece of gear required for Monday in Limerick. I refueled in Virginia, with a little difficulty, the petrol nozzle was too big for my tight entry point so the gentleman inside showed me a smaller nozzle and rammed it in and I pulled on the lever and filled the tank. Riveting stuff really! Mind-blowing moments in the days of my life! I should write about it someday. The gentleman said he’d never seen a hole as tight as mine before and I told him likewise I’d never experienced a nozzle as large. And I journeyed on, somewhat dangerously overtaking the usual morons that insist on cruising middle of the road at speeds unworthy of the word speed.
So I got home and felt a Forest Gump psyche within me. But before I took off on a long run I took out the internet and measured an intended route roughly on Google Earth. It came to 14 miles which is over half a marathon and which would be pretty cool considering some people consider it an achievement worthy of a formal occasion involving numbered singlet support crews advertising and charity deals. But I’m beyond that group love teamwork shite. The last time I had my Forrest Gump psyche on I ran a similar route but more than 14 miles. I remember it well. I hadn’t gotten any exercise for days and I was going me ntal in my mind and beginning to speak like Forrest. So I rolled up my last bit of hash which had been the cause of my lethargy and went out walking at the top of the road I finished the joint and broke into a light jog and then I kept going. I ran toward the City, through Stillorgan and Ranelagh. It was a weekday evening, early summer or spring, it was bright when I used my rock jumping and scrambling skills to weave through the forest of people on the Dame Street sidewalk. It felt good, I was mid run and warmed up it was effortless and was on a higher level of concentration and engagement with the world than the suited slaves treading dutifully their dull routines. I went through the docks, remember running past a family of knackers sitting by a fire outside their caravan, it was dark then. When I got home about 3 hours later I was so fucked I lay down on the couch and began to cry. It was the very same feeling as coming off ecstasy. I was completely out of my mind but it was more an emotional nausea than the scrambled thought processing trance hash would put me in.
Anyway I was kinda thinking maybe it wasn’t really necessary to go on such a long run right now. I be fucked and tight legged for days. It was already dark out. I’d rather run in the light, or at least a week night when everything is ordered and uneventful not a Saturday night, drunks and people trying their best to have fun and bringing it on like forced laughter gives way to real laughter. And what if I was spotted on Camden Street, where the chick from works party was on. I intended to tell her I was in Limerick this weekend rather than admit I was out last night with 27 year olds what the fuck do I wanna be doing out drinking again and with 40 year olds. So I drank a Berocca and went upstairs to sit on the toilet, it was one of those gloomy experiences, it felt like I was dying, it was the Guinness last night, the pints were too good I drank too much. By the time I washed my hands I had completely given up on the idea of a long run. I’d probably never make it anyway and end up getting a taxi home. I’m not the man I used to be. The internet has ruined me, like all good Cities ruin all good men. I would have a Sauna instead. And then as I dried my hands there was a moment of revelation, I would go for a short run no more than an hour. And when I return the sauna will have heated. And that is what I did. A gentle run It was. Everything part of my body felt sore and weak, sending negative vibes to my mind. But I kept going and it all loosened up and felt good soon. I didn’t start sweating until the 30 minute mark. A consequence of the air temperature my extreme good health and maybe a little post revelry dehydration for good measure. I don’t like sweating. My granddad didn’t kill the Brits so I’d have to go about my life sweating.
The Chinese takeaway arrived with perfect punctuality, just after my sauna and shower. I watched James Bond be thrown out of an airplane and fight a man in the sky and commandeer his parachute while I chewed through the starters of satay chicken and spring rolls and a bag of prawn crackers and a free bag of prawn crackers also. And I don’t even care much for prawn crackers I prefer skips but the satay sauce was tasty and plentiful and made an excellent dip. I couldn’t eat any more then, to try would be sadistic.
So I took off into the night to seek out the dark recesses of the City where men are destroyed and celebrities made. And I only had 1 smoke. Mental Note going for a run clears the lungs and reduces the desire to smoke. I think I’ll have a smoke before I go to bed now. I deserve one. I am a winner. A winner of the fat cockeyed guy’s money. I played him like a puppet. I got my comeuppance. Today the fat guy. Tomorrow Deirdre.

summary
40 minute run light pace
Chinease takeaway -not too manky maybe even healthy
3 ciggs

Day 12

2012-01-06T10:38:00.001-08:00

3:00am: went to bed
6:00am: rudely awoken by idiot brother, face slapping and punching me. I wished him well (using many swear words) and safe travels back to New York City. The place that believes it’s the coolest City in the world. And I’m sure it is! In the 80’s or the 20’s But not now. The Internet is the City now, more about that later.
9:20am rudely awoken by idiot father and barking dogs and bright light. He was looking for 20 euro to pay some fuel delivery man.
I checked the time on my phone and had a text from my leader saying I had to go to Wexford today. Balls! I made some phone calls and learned things had changed and I don’t have to travel today. Yeah baby yeah [whoop whoop]. Then a Scottish gentleman rang and started asking all these questions and I was forced to lie and pretend I had read and studied his email and would get back to him later. I tried to return to sleep but it was futile. I’m a liar and a skiver and I haven’t even left the bed yet.
I went to Dunnes next in search of a tracksuit. They didn’t have a great selection. So I was forced to buy something I’d never buy. And I’m supposed to be off frivolous spending this year. I must go to a sport shop some day but not today and buy a nice 2 piece tracksuit like Bill Murray’s and train in the bottoms and wear the top as a light indoor jacket.
When I returned Dave and my father were conversing, over a pile of fire wood.
When we drove toward Gravity fuckers from work kept ringing me. I haven’t even had lunch and I’m breaking the law next I’ll be breaking red lights then committing arson then raping and murdering starting with cats and dogs and working my way up through badgers and women to ponies.
Anyway, had a good session at Gravity. I’ve improved a lot since I first went less than 2 weeks ago. The second last time I went I was totally exhausted for the day after and I went out drinking that night and fell of a lamppost and sprained my toe. But I’m back in business now and know I won’t be exhausted tomorrow, should try get a run in and climb again on Sunday. I have to drive to Cavan tomorrow. That’s going to steal the best part of the day. I have to go drinking tonight. I’d rather get up early and get Cavan out of the way. But if I’m found with alcohol in my system tomorrow I lose my car and my job. God dam laws. I can drive just fine pissed out of my mind. I blame the feminization of society for all these nanny state laws. At least let me do a driving test drunk and if I pass issue a licence to drink and drive. I mean we’re not all equal. When we’re all treated equally we’re generally all treated as the lowest common denominator of man. It makes me so angry. I’m going drinking, then I’m gonna blow something up.

Summary
Gravity: medium -hard

Day 11 -gobbledigook

2012-01-05T18:04:00.000-08:00

When the cold air breathes on my warn neck
And the hot stars send light to my open eyes
When she sends text messages about the moon in her heart

and the dogs howling in the yard
and the teenagers next door playing see Emily play

you’re just another brick in the wall

the wall is built around an old watering hole in Babylon
we went there with the CIA last summer
to solve the economic crisis the world had created when politics prayed for world peace

these days I drink from the babbling brook
she comes to me in rapids of old men in Tonic
talking Blackrock College anecdotes and of a solicitor in Bray who makes a great pre nuptial

I married her in Spring
All our friends came and it was nice
Her mother had died recently and she cried a tear when her sister said something acknowledging their psychic moment of melancholia as she helped with her makeup in the morning

I’d been out all night the night before and hadn’t had the energy for the sentimental insomnia of excitement
But I was definitely in love and what sobered me was the handshake from my uncle
He’d been wed twice before, his girlfriend was beside him ascending the steps to the church, he was jealous and he looked upon me like a God because he knew it was real and richer than his and his cynicism dissolved and he was embarrassed by the insight into the depths that the Lord and left in the world. He knew she was due, twins, who could Adam and Eve it.

The slaughter occurred at 12:30
Let’s just say I was interested to see what would happen
I got to speak in court and the papers repeated it
I told them of the holocaust of the animals
Of our delusions of grandeur
Of the end of oil
Of their flawed philosophy of ethics and morality in light of evolution over geological time spans in a quantum universe where if you go that way and I go this way we’ll meet again in the curvature of Space-time.
Of their brothers and sisters in their blind eyes in their solipsistic psyches
Of the realm of the known where all that is witnessed is familiar and re-ordered ‘creatively’ to look new and original and sacred if alive especially if human and art if made of mud
I told them of the ghost train

And they put me on a plane and gave me medicine
I proved negative for intelligence and insanity
They locked me up with a load of morons
And they put me in a room with a Tv and a copy of the Koran
And I put my face to the screen and was lost in a whirlpool of primary colours

For my sins I was reborn
It was the olden days and I studied astronomy
And invented astrology
I was executed at dawn and remembered as a martyr
Until the country’s history was lost to a plague of locusts
A similar consciousness occurred again 300 years later on the island of Eros
He took to the ocean one day in a ship with painted sails
And navigated by starlight
And was set upon by a bunch of hardy sea faring vagabonds
Somehow he survived the attack
He found a strength he never knew he had, buried in what he thought was his instinct
Buried in the momentum of his genes
Descended from his forefathers who had been banished from their homes, who had survived winters alone, who were washed up on fruitful shores because luck was on their side
When the fight had ended and he had won against all the odds, the sight of the blood on the deck and the adrenalin in his nervous system made him vomit onto the painted sails and he leapt into the sea and cleansed himself in the cool bitter water
And he took the losers’ ship and reached a new land and invented mathematics and died and old man and went to Nirvana walking through the doors feeling like a 27 year old
And to this day he has never returned
Not so much as an aural hallucination has he sent to a mad man’s mind
A mad man like Mohammad who could inspire legions to suicide their logical minds and their animal souls to a bullshit tradition
Of easy life and curtailed curiosity
Of Art that offends me
as I offend them
In a game of no importance that means everything to each of us
In the circles of the curved Space-time Continuum
Where the music takes over like a remote control making the pixels blue and green
And the stars white
And mars red
And a black backdrop

Day 10

2012-01-04T17:10:00.000-08:00

04 Jan
Gravity weak session

03 Jan
short walk on Killiney beach
Birthday drinking

02 Jan
Short Hike 3 Rock

01 Jan

31 Dec
New Years Eve Drinking

2011-12-30T18:15:00.001-08:00

Day 5

Thank God my driver was delayed this morning
I needed the extra time
Sleeping is a fine thing
Going to sleep is not the most desirable thing to do most nights
At night casinos are full of life
City girls are letting their guard down
There is star gazing and great brooding by the fire to be done
Sleeping at this hour of the day seems sinful sometimes
I’m late getting to bed, tired in the mornings, so tired that not even daylight and all its potential inspires me. I rise slowly and tread gently, waking softly into the cold water at the edge of my dreams. I eat whatever is in the house. The same as yesterday.
I had a lovely time at Gravity. An honest days training in the rain.

I make an awful pasta meal. It was the small tin of taoato paste that ruined the sause.
I visit my friend. She has a cute ass and wholesome young breasts. Her brother sits between us on the couch.

We watch a movie
A Mexican movie
A blend of Romeo and Juliet, Bonnie and Clyde, Summer with Monica
It ends, I leave, going back through the front door into the air

Flying through the information
Gliding through movies
Rising on music
Landing in news

Grazing on free food
Trading our feces with nature

Jim left the Matrix City to be with Olive
And they never surf the net of Knowledge again
And they know nothing really
And return their attentions to the sensual Apps.
We descendents feast and fuck, suffer famine and death
Live without progress
And the Stars watch over us
A Network of complex computers called the heavens
Made to look like hot spheres of hydrogen where the elements are born
Where Jim was jettisoned from, in the image of their Software

Summary
Gravity: medium session
5 ciggs (could have had more but Dave wouldn’t let me smoke in his car)

Day 4 The Rise of The Machines

2011-12-29T18:18:00.002-08:00

Awoke to the usual noise and disturbances. Brother entered my room again interrupting my sleep not looking for cigarettes as per yesterday, the pack he gave me in the cab home on previous night because he is “done with that shit”, no, this morning he was looking for his belt back. And a lovely belt it is, shame he remembered I’d borrowed it. And he couldn’t find it as efficiently as he’d found the cigarettes the previous morning, and was rumbling through the mountains of worn clothes on my floor for long enough to wake me and take me from the lovely strand in my dreams where I was watching 2 moons rise over the horizon, where every grain of sand was a universe one could slip into because he had the power of the dream land where this waking realms physical constraints don’t always apply, and one could fly through the universe beaming like light past planets stormy stars and galaxies through gaseous nebula like a sea trout through luminescent plankton. Calling out “my belt where’s my belt” and I was back in Beech Park, alert and with the same immediacy with which he’d woken me said “forget the socks and jocks, don’t go there, try the black jeans over there”.
There was no returning to sleep, I checked my phone, there were no messages, everyone I know didn’t want to talk to me, it was 10:00, an hour earlier than yesterday.
I went to the kitchen where my brother was serving himself a fry from the pan. “Where’s mine?” I asked. You’ll have to cook your own he said, I didn’t know you were getting up…
So, breakfast was 3 Superquinn sausages, 2 rashers, an egg, half a pint of Tropicana, 2 slices of white bread fried in the grease and the fat of the pig and the sunflowers that died for me.
I went to the TV fell asleep to a show about something woke up to some Michael Cane film.
Lunch was a whole other story, more about that now. Dowdell came to visit, she is the 100th person I’ve met that instructs Yoga. She admitted to inventing her own position called the foot hug, I didn’t tell her of the 100 positions I invent on a daily basis because she is a professional and would not appreciate my yoga cynicism.
I remember resting some more, bits of movies, Back to the Future 3, Terminator 3, Deep Blue sea shows about ugly fish with lighthouses growing out of their forehead. I walked the dog again, walking far more briskly today, I got that sauna I’d missed yesterday, arranged the piles of dirty clothes in my room into new piles that had some kind or order and looked more intentional and purposeful giving the room a greater air of cleanliness over sloth and slovenliness. And then I ate a shitload of Turkey and pasta because my sister didn’t eat much of hers because I cooked it and put too much pepper and lemon on the fried turkey because it is Thursday, Christmas was Sunday, you need to jazz that shit up like an Indian in India does with their rancid meat.
Then I got into the car and all kinds of weird and crazy shit went down.

Nobody slaves anymore
Work is automated
Products are free
Lines of credit abound

People pursue their Arts
And like the warrior in peacetime, they go to war with their Arts
They perfect their painting, their photography, music, and sports
They create new words and mangle the old ones
They elongate the lists of Information
Expanding the collective consciousness
A voyeuristic culture of information supersedes the meditative pre-linguistic past
where sensuality was King
where sex and violence were perfected, performed in instinct out of necessity
Where the hunt was true and serious and the hunter good or dead
Where love was naked and unadulterated with the madness of the anthropological excess of consciousness

Now the machines have arrived and set us free from the history of Man
To roam the streets in cars and clothes
To eat from the fast food troughs
And drink in the waterfalls of Coke
To send emails back and forth and get paid
To fly through movies and music and ideas like a bird in the sky

Summary:
1 hour walk
1 fry
4 Ciggs

Day iii

2011-12-29T18:18:00.001-08:00

Climbed today at Gravity.
6 Cigs
6 Guinness at Galloping Green
Turkey pasta breakfast
Soup crackers cheese lunch
Baked Salmon dinner

Day 2

2011-12-27T18:31:00.001-08:00

I can’t turn the TV on. I’ve switched on all the plugs, the Christmas tree lights came on but the TV and the DVD player and the Sky Box ain’t showing no lights. I don’t know! I can’t figure it out. There are too many cables and wires and stuff and I’m in no state of control to dabble with that shit right now. So being a deep and meaningful thinker that I am I think TV is dead. Yeah usually at this time of night I’d come home flick through a billion channels, then flick through the billion channels again, realize there’s nothing on TV and go to bed. But tonight I can’t even turn the TV on. My father must have unplugged all cables, perhaps in case lightning struck a satellite and earthed at our house and caused a spark what caused a fire and burnt the house down, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, I don’t know and I’m in no state to figure out why But the TV ain’t working. TV is dead. And they deserve it. Man, TV is nothing but ads and junk, it deserves to be dead. I have the internet now. I’m tapping away, typing, typing, Rhianna is singing in the background, it’s all good. TV is over and good riddens to it. Bullshitting me with god awful adds and shows for the last few years. God bless my good mother for finally sorting out the internet that it works in the living room. So TV is dead. Wow. Isn’t it amazing. Throw the TV out the window. Go to NCAD in 2002 and smash the TV with a sledge hammer for crimes against humanity and embrace the Internet. Love the Internet. Touch the Internet. Create a David Bowie Playlist on YouTube and forget the night and live with us in forests of azure. Do you know something; we are not ruled by TV. And if the good Lord had lived long enough and not died of a broken heart in Paris in 1971 he’d have discovered it too. We are ruled by the Internet if anything.
So what happened today. God bless the auld blog, got two comments yesterday, clearly there’s an audience out there. Someday gonna break America. Gonna be rich as Astronauts. Terry Wogan: So, Sir Pete, how’d ya find America. Turn left at Greenland Terry. Applause. Adoration. Anyway Terry I’ve been watching Rhianna videos again, man she’s come a long way since I first saw her umbrella, but you know what she’s held that voice, that signature voice, and that smile, closer to puppy dog on the puppy dog to seductive cat spectrum. She’s a keeper. Gonna put her in my movie about the Matrix. Old man Johnny Depp and Rhianna, about the edge of a mature Las Vegas diva. Gonna be a great movie all the stars are gonna play. Someday soon, gonna finish that movie and email it to Hollywood. Gonna be rich, as rich as JK Rowling. And I ain’t gonna be giving no money to charity, hell no, gonna give the money to NASA. I MEAN WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE, THE AULD SUN IS GONNA EXPLODE SOMEDAY, WHEN THE HYDROGEN BURNS UP AND THE GRAVITY DIES DOWN AND THE STAR EXPANDS AND SWALLOWS MERCURY AND VENUS AND FOR SURE MELTS THE Earth. We gotta get going. When we gonna stop hanging around, forget about the poor and the degenerates, give them an auld heroin dose if they can’t go on. Put the money in Space, save the race, the race of the fighter, the killer, the survivor what won every battle from day one, what lived long enough, to fuck and raise a child to fuck and let us be millennia after millennia, morphing, evolving, fuck the poor, they gotta stop fucking and making more poor, we gotta put the money into space and spaceships, gotta emigrate the Earth. The Astronaut aborts. Out here we is Astronaut, Amoral.
So what happened today. Brought the dog for a walk. Didn’t bring the little brow dog. Just the big black dog. The little brown dog be pulling on the lead all the way. She’s totally retarded. I like the big black dog. She’s cool, knows she’s a dog, doesn’t have any notion that she’s a human or anything, but she behaves like a human nonetheless, a real lady like human, she’s a good dog, we strolled my jogging route, up the village, past the race track down to the graveyard. Yeah I got my exercise today. Didn’t eat a whole lot though. Wasn’t that hungry. Had to go for a walk. The family were watching a meryl streep film with alec Baldwin, I swear you gotta be retarded to enjoy that shit. It really hurts. It really, really, depresses and hurts me, offends me, how people can watch that shit, and my own kin. I just got to leave, the dog don’t watch that sit either, she prefers to stroll about the suburbs too, aimlessly maybe, but Jesus Christ, maybe I smoke the odd cancer stick maybe I eat the odd too many full Irish fries too many, but I don’t be killing my mind, don’t be hanging off the bridge of meryl street rom coms.
So I didn’t do a whole lot of training for font today. But at least I bought my ticket. Can’t wait, 4 days in font with a good crew. Got 8 weeks to train. Gonna kick ass

To Font or not to Font

2011-12-26T18:48:00.000-08:00

Mother finally sorted out Internet access in the foxrock residence. Isn’t it amazing, I can now browse the internet from the front living room. No more going upstairs to the cold ‘computer room’ and plugging the cat5 cable into my laptop. A computer room for those of you who don’t know is where we used to keep what was called the PC, a predecessor to the portable computing devices of today. I think she got a new router and installed it in the hallway where it can radiate and gravitate a invisible light around the house, a magical radio wave kind of light that makes the wireless aka ‘wifi’ work. Wi-Fi! So many new and superfluous words I’ve witnessed coming into being in my little short life led always at the forefront of the oncoming time. Like ‘Cloud’ computing! Another nonsense word. ‘Remote’ was fine. ‘Blue Tooth’ was a very ridiculous one. Firstly it sounds like dog tooth, but no more about dog tooth for now I haven’t finished that film and don’t have any plans to either. ‘Blue Tooth’ my friend once spent an hour explaining to me what blue tooth was. Yeah the miss-communication took that long. “So, this highfaluting height of technology, technology you’ve just spent an hour explaining to me is basically radio” I said in disgust, baffled by his ignorance. Radio has been around for quite a while now I said politely. I don’t think he got it. To this day he believes Blue Tooth is a recent invention. No! It’s a recently invented word. A superfluous junk word.
So my internet works. Status update: Playing with the computer. Watching Bullitt in the background. Not really bothered watching it. Don’t really care for Steve McQueen. Thought the great escape was a tremendously overrated boring long film. And didn’t he die in the end. Not much of an escape was it. No one here gets out alive as the good lord said. And his favorite actor was Steve McQueen. I don’t know why. Maybe because Jack Nicholson hadn’t become famous yet back in his day. Maybe Marlon Brando wasn’t appreciated or popular yet. Johnny Depp probably hadn’t finished grade school then. Yeah I’m not watching Bullitt, I mean Steve is wearing a Wine colored Aran jumper. What’s that about? I always meant to watch it. Because it has a great soundtrack and because the good lord said it was his favorite film. But what did the good lord know, when he was around the world was generally considered to be flat although rumor has it Aristotle and spherical notions, not surprising that he was the student of Socrates’ student. The great circular thinking genius. A method of linguistic artistry people still get paid to use. They even called Oscar Wilde a genius because he used it some much. Oh no, correction, he called himself a genius. Nothing to declare but his ability to titillate minds with wordplay. Cheers for the buzz Oscar, cheers for posthumously jerking off my mind, it was better than the Warhol film, it was better than the gynecology examination on Porn Tube. Philosophy! Wisdom! What a load of cobble. A discourse on our perception of words that’s all it is, all it ever was. Shite talk parading as some great art. That helped bring us further toward the city so we may get further back into the countryside and the natural world on our holidays.
Yeah I like the music in bullet. Lazlo is up there with Marconi in films. I mean how many forgo a good soundtrack for the god awful orchestral racket that explains the mood. I mean I was watching Circe du sole on telly a day or two ago. This bog standard acrobat did a bog standard trick and there was no applause. Then he did the same trick a minute later, but the god awful orchestra was banging out some serious suspense music and the audience clapped exuberantly like they were expecting something bad to happen.

So I must bring this blog back to climbing some day. Might buy a ticket to font for the end of February. But I don’t feel like doing it now, even though I could, like I am ion the internet, my credit card is in my pocket. But I don’t feel like going to font this minute so I won’t book it just now. I should book a ticket and get some training in before the trip and maybe go for an 8b this time. Up my game a bit. But the last time I went to font I had to sleep on the couch in a cabin full of boys, it was very smelly. And font is such a lovely town I’d much rather stay in the village and drink coffee and drive to the boulders in my own time and leave in my own time and go back to the hotel and enjoy fine dining. I mean money isn’t an issue; I have a job, what’s with the budget travelling, why are my friends so working class. And I’d rather go to font in the autumn, when the leaves are lovely and golden. I’m going skiing in March; I don’t need to go on holiday in February. I was on holiday in America last month, I don’t need another holiday right now. Any way I might book a ticket tomorrow. Then do a training regime. Post up the details of my progress, forcing oneself to post the progress helps one focus. I post how much exercise I did. How much I ran, how many chin ups I did, how much and what kind of climbing I did or hiking, or scrambling about the boulders like a ballerina goat in a hurry to catch a train. I keep a record of the good and the bad foodstuffs and drink stuffs I consume and of the cigarettes.
OK Day 1
A bunch of ciggs and Guinness at the races
A bunch of soda and ciggs at Paddy's house playing poker
A turkey sandwich
A ham sandwich
Walked to the car a few times, yeah I definitely got no exercise today

2011-02-05T11:51:00.000-08:00

Glendo 30 Jan 2010

Captain's log Sunday.
High in the scree, Lattitude Bird
Holding Lattitude head towards Green Diamond and continue same distance again, reaching project dry arse "You could sit for an hour and your arse would still be dry"

Pedronaut boldly climbing in asics runners where no one has climbed before.

Aber Crombie Cardigan $49

David standing proud over his paving and thinking about economics.

2 Base Jumpers

Billy the goat savaged by the midgies last autumn, rest in peace billy.

2010-12-03T10:58:00.000-08:00

2010-03-22T19:03:00.001-07:00

On Friday night I went to the Irish Bouldering Meet.

2009-10-27T08:46:00.001-07:00

Font & Bleau 2009c+
.
.

.
.

2009-10-20T12:24:00.000-07:00

somebody fix the television

2009-09-21T13:28:00.000-07:00

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,

2009-05-09T14:44:00.000-07:00

.

.

.

2009-03-19T14:36:00.000-07:00

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

-the hunting season is over, bring your own food
.

-area 6
.

2009-03-17T16:56:00.000-07:00

Karen Tool
.

.

.
Go out and face death
Dressed like a penguin
Come out like Batman, James Bond
.
.

2009-03-15T18:34:00.000-07:00

ShortSpan Meat 2009a
.
.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEfpGCcBXk8
.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OvQHRaBuzd4
.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=USYRDyB5naE
.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sb7JBArH8VQ

2009-02-28T13:14:00.000-08:00

toward Mangerton, Killarney

2008-12-14T11:19:00.001-08:00

I'd rather be in Australia,

2008-12-08T03:08:00.000-08:00

Glendaloch, Glendasan 29/11/08
.

.

.

.

2008-10-21T11:02:00.000-07:00

Fontainebleau 2008a

Fontainebleau 2008a

Starring, in alphabetical order
Pedronaut

crew
Davo
Dermott from Clondalkin

Executive Producer
Mr. Quigley

Saturday

2008-09-27T11:38:00.000-07:00

Mall Hill

2008-09-20T11:54:00.000-07:00

This is a sport mode shot
taken in the milliseconds when i was completely in the air unattached from the rock

pointless Climbing

2008-09-14T15:40:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-14T15:27:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-14T15:17:00.000-07:00

-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.

Back to Black

2008-06-08T14:01:00.000-07:00

.
"..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
.