July 15, 2001

“Well, I’ll love ya and leave ya, as God did the Jews.” – Mrs. Larkin

This job gives me ample opportunities to pick up a pen, but never really to write.  I am interrupted just as ink starts to flow, and by the time I return my mind is in another place.  Perhaps I should just read magazines in here and write at home.  But after a shift I am so tired.  Maybe that will change as I get into the routine.  A routine of filling newspapers with supplements and that surly slurring waiter who drinks Lucozade double-fisted first thing in the morning.  “Who the fuck are you supposed to be?”  Ah, the humor and whimsy of the Irish.  I can’t even begin to go into how yesterday was marred until I can write unmolested for a good half an hour.

I just wish I’d never done this.  There are some nice moments but this is not the place for me.  I just don’t care for the scene – I don’t like drinking!  But that and smoking are all my peers do!

Overheard: “Manchester is nice.  Really strong youth culture, if you like going out.  Big IRA blast few years back.  Best thing that could have happened really.  Took out a bunch of buildings.  Put a lot into development.”

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