“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.”