Just quit the Beanery Café. Told Paul, the manager, about working two thousand hours extra for which, I imagine, I will receive no compensation. He said, “First I’ve heard of that.” Really. What a surprise. I thought that communication was the strong point of this organization.
Didn’t finish telling about two nights ago. So after shitty, but final, day at the Beanery, we went to Roshin’s house lured by the prospect of free beer. There was none to be found, so we went to her local, a dark little pub whose name escapes me. We had a few drinks and a good time chatting – we spoke all the Italian words we know “spaghetti,” “mamma mia,” etc., and he laughed at us. We, in turn, laughed at his English. Roshin said that he looked like an alien, and with his wedge-shaped shaved head he rather does. He drums on the city square in Naples during the summer, after buying a big block of hash and smoking a spliff in front of the guard. (“Hello! Roll, roll, roll.”) He became a human drum machine, sliding in and around the rhythm of the music, going so fast at times it seemed his fingers would simply break off on the table top.
Then we went back to her place and hung out for a bit until she spoke of going to another party and the hour combined with my fatigue prompted my long way back home.
Her place has the most amazing view – it is on the top floor so it is roof level with a tall, gorgeous church. It is so close you think you can reach across the tiny alley and touch it.
She hugged me as I left and I hope to see her again.
Last night went out with Declan to Handel Bar, right by where I was the night before. Roshin said it was where the “skag heads” or heroin addicts live. Evidently a few years ago there had been a big march to get them evicted from the projects, or council housing I believe they call it here.
Standard sort of evening – brought the wrong card so Declan had to spot me a £20. The highlight there was some bizarre altercation that I never quite understood. There was this one guy who had sort of been jack-assing all evening, and I saw him go up to the bar behind me. Then all I heard was two crashes, like glass, and then the dude ran outside, followed by the two barmen. I missed it but Declan said the dude got caught and dealt a few blows. Then security cleared us all out. Come to think of it, before we got there we saw of roving band of boys wandering the street, throwing down glasses to break. My first dicey Ireland experience.
Then Tony was going to take us to the leading gay bar in Dublin, himself being a member of the gays, but the £6 deterred us. We walked the cobbles to Eamonn Doran’s and breezed by the doorman. I look back, though, and poor Ashleigh is caught at the door. She has been refused entrance on the grounds of being too drunk! Evidently walking up the cobbles she gave off the vibe of overindulgence. This frustrated and embarrassed her to no end, and we all ended up going home.
Tony, Declan, and I shared a cab – my first time in a cab since I’ve been here! And I must admit, those commercials left me apprehensive the whole time. I sort of think in a country where people seem to die in cars and for no other reason – 170 so far this year in this tiny country – that I’d rather walk. Plus it would work off the Guinness.
Last night used up a whole £5 Buzz card calling people back in the states. I just wanted so desperately to chat with someone and not feel weird or foreign. It was nice, but I’d no idea I’d talked 50 minutes. It’s all sort of a blur conversation anyway, as I was rather intoxicated. 2 Guinness and 2 ciders. Drinking in rounds is murderous!
I should just not drink because I think about sex. At Handel’s Bar I just phased out for a good hour and thought about the chemistry, the anatomy, the physics and the images of sex. It will rot my brain.
A Decade Ago in Dublin... 