September 6th, 2018
I’m gathering my tour stories, trying to write them down. Assemble them in perfect disorder. I’ve been touring for almost 20 years. I’ve shared and gathered a lot of stories.
Which ones would you like to read?
Getting punched in the face in Cyprus? Meeting a London Police Officer at 1am on Abbey Road? Losing my bag in Brussels? Directions to Murder Hole Beach? Going through British customs with Karl? “Please Play Kenny Rogers?” Bruce Springsteen on Christopher Street? Bribing a Slovakian Train Conductor? Reading Poems to Angry Hungarian Sepratists? Talking about Shakira with the guy from the Ronseal Ad? Playing Glastonbury? The Worst Gig Ever? The Red Lion 1-4am? Boomerang Wallet? The list is near endless.
Any stories you remember me sharing on stage, off stage, in the back of the bar, in the back of the van?
September 4th, 2018
Back to school. Long sleeves await us. 78 degrees feels like 82..
The juice store has become tobacconist and vape shop. There’s hope for us yet. Yogurt and smoothies and pet store treat stores add an extra hundred dollars a month to a landlord’s perception of the possibilities of rent. It is this twisted logic that leads me to view a vape store replacing a juice store in a positive light.
I’m back in Brooklyn. Clare starts back at teaching today.
Summer recedes. The calendar, the leaves and the department of education agree on this. The temperature resists.
Family legend had it, upon returning from my first day at St. Joseph’s National School, Riverstown, Cork, I informed my grandfather that it wasn’t for me. Thankfully important decisions are not generally left to the intellect of four year olds. ( Present President excepted).
Knowledge is power. Good luck everyone.
They say it takes about 20 minutes for our eyes to adjust to darkness. I read it in a magazine. A clock that is reset by a single impulsive glance at a cell phone. The warm addictive glow of distraction. What has he done now. Are we still in business? Has the work come in? Have I been discovered? Liked? Requested? Recruited? Delisted? Defriended? Promoted? Demoted.
After just 20 minutes in darkness our eyes see things they wouldn’t before. I’m trying this with silence too. I’m trying to to declutter. I’m attempting some harder internet abstinence rules.
Here’s a poem I saw in real time last week.
Sinatra at the Laundromat
At a laundromat in Hudson,
Snapping his fingers as he folds,
A middle aged man in knee high socks,
Khaki Shorts and a fictitious 80’s metal shirt,
Sings in unison, every word with Franks Sinatra.
For the duration of a wash a and dry cycle,
And the time it takes to fold,
At a laundromat in Hudson.
Thank you for singing.
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