No more. Fear of. Everything.
Did anyone else get this extremely tacky PLASTIC ‘coffee tumbler’ from amazon.com? ‘Thank you for spending all your salary at our company.’ I appreciate the gesture, but why plastic? Why not gimme… a book or something?
David’s pregnant! I guess his wife isn’t Iman after all… boom boom.
So today is Valentine’s Day. (Saint Valentine’s remains are kept in a casket at Whitefriar Street Church on Aungier Street, Dublin. Or so they want to believe. I love Aungier Street. It’s common, it’s dirty, it’s a road I walked up and down many a time, out of my head on whiskey and beer.). Got one card from a friend. Sent one letter… but it’s got nothing to do with Valentine’s Day. Honest, guv. My first recollection of Valentine’s Day is from the Peanuts comic strip. That’s how I learnt about American customs when they hadn’t crossed the pond yet.
I have no problem at all revealing this site’s pathetic stats. :-) Maybe this will help: sex. sex. sex! (Believe it or not, that’s the title of a song by Dutch band The Div)
I’ve come very close to picking up the old habit again these past few weeks. And this doesn’t help. Watching David Bowie pretend to smoke is a sensual experience.
About five or six years ago, prol studied Irish (Gaeilge) in Donegal. One of the other people on the course was young writer Michael Collins. His first novel, the Meateaters, had just been published. We were a little in awe of his running up Slieve League every day. We had no idea it went much further than that. Tá se an-mhaith.