Free The RanDumber Chapter – Yee Huu!

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Because The Night – Patti Smith

Chapter 19

First. Ever. Shhh…

Did I ever tell you I’m a fan of the crust? The heel. You know, the start and end parts of a loaf of bread. Whichever name you want to call that rose. Lot of folk don’t like it at all. But I’m a fan. Particularly when it’s toasted. Tasty. As. Funk!

So when I went to prepare a celebratory meal for myself last night, I did not mind that all I had left was one slice of bread crust. Horsed it into the toaster. Checked the fridge. What else do I have for this fine meal? Hmm. Fridge. Bare. Naked. Tut. Although, I do have two baby tomatoes left. Wonderful. Anything else? Sniff. Balls. Toast. Burning. Burnt. Ah Jiminy. Not to worry, I shall make do. Nothing can sour this mighty celebration!

In the end, I had: One burnt slice of toast. Two sliced tomatoes. And. A glass of gin, to wash it all down. Mmhmmm. Tasty. Horsed it into me. Two bites. Two chugs. Gone. Quite the feast. Quite the celebrations. Standing in my kitchen. Alone. In my underwear. Betsy. Momentous occasion! Rejoice! Could’ve been a burnt sock for all I care. Especially as moments earlier I had finally finished a full draft of my first ever book. Wuu huu!

Rambling. Boney. Skeleton. The first draft.

According to Hemingway: The shit one.

Or as a clown might say: Continue Reading »

Hey Boss… Where Me Worms?!


Far too much of today has been spent being far too confused. Someone changing the layout of my blogaruu… What was that aboot? That guy in Trader Joe’s who just drove his car into a bush next to me… ? That girl who started sobbing while ringing up my food at the till… ? That random dude in the green belly top and pink hat on sideways, who came up to me in the gym, informing me that he too enjoyed soccer – Ok? – and then just stood there. Looking at me. Until I put my iPod back on… Go on the gym. Funk off the confusion.

Thankfully today was also a highly productive day. Fixed up the blogaruu. Bought some food. Went to the gym. And that, was aboot it. Highly productive. Although I did discover a new sandwich today. Swordfish. Peas. Corn. Onions. Toasted. Savage. Oh Jesus. Highly productive day. Exciting stuff. One of those days. Two day hangover in full crystal swing. Feeling a tad ahem-ually hungover as well. What what. Full on weekend. Big day on Saturday. Shindig all the way. Slid into Sunday. Bells ringing. People glowing. Dancing. Non-stop. Top class. Top hat on. Suit pants off. Fun all round. And that’s all I remember aboot that. Encrypt on. Continue Reading »

Land Of Perplexion


Recently I’ve been asked to do a couple of articles for Irish publications of various sorts. Big shot. Huge. Ape. Massive. All asking for the same angle. Life in L.A. Along with a few photos. No worries. Jot down a few adventures. Shillings. Hook me up. Not realising that they all actually meant something else. Celebrities you’ve met in L.A. Along with a few photos of these celebrities. Oh right. Sounds fun. Broke the news that I’ve being living in a cave for a few weeks. So wrote them an article about all the celebrities I didn’t get to meet. Told me they’d wait until I emerged. Friday night has led me to believe that perhaps I might not be the most perceptive kind of ape to do these articles. Continue Reading »

Hey Day, It’s Not You, It’s Me.

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Not You, It's Me

Now and again people like to pass the buck along. Blame someone else, if something doesn’t go our way. Lately, I’ve gone down an alternative route. I have taken to blaming stuff on the day. ‘Mondays are brutal, so slow.’ Followed the next day by…‘What? Another slow day?!’ Today started off not so bad. Unfortunately in the last few hours it has turned into a slow night. Watching the most mediocre game of football I’ve seen in years, followed by a failed attempt at going to the gym. When your car is blocked in by another car, and the keys are not here to move it, you could easily blame the day. ‘Here we go again, another slow day.’ Not anymore. I’m taking it as a sign that the day is sick of me blaming everything on it. Not the day that is slow. The day has done nothing to me. It’s me. I’m the slow one. Acknowledging it is my first step on the road to recovery. Continue Reading »



It has been a week of numbers. Hit and miss. A fruitless week might be another good way to describe it. Well, maybe a few nuggets of productivity, scattered amongst a field of frustration and stop-starts. However, it was Tuesday  that started my decline, from which I never fully recovered. Literally I had a fairly bad hair day, succumbing to getting not one, but two dodgy haircuts. Oddly enough, since then, the amount of people to mention to me that I should really go get a haircut for myself, has risen. Unfortunately for them, number 3 is not on the cards anytime soon. 

This week I had 4 gigs lined up, 3 DJ and 1 stand-up. Yes I know, I(think)’m brilliant. Oddly, the stand-up one was probably the best of the lot. If I never have a stranger gig than that one though, I will be disappointed. It was bizarre. To start, lets just say it was intimate. As in not the usual amount of people were there, the numbers were down from the hundreds that regularly pack into the venue. For some reason, the atmosphere was ridiculously tense. I suppose the fact a couple were breaking up at it, a family with jet lag didn’t really respond to an orgy joke, and a couple of comedians not having the greatest of banter with the crowd, did not make for a happy buzz floating about the place. It was intense, like sticking a load of people into an elevator and doing a gig there. And if everyone in the elevator also wanted to fight each other for some reason.

There was the comedian as well who pushes his own boundaries to the max while being on stage. As in he is close to snapping, or a melt-down, each time he goes on stage. I think he’s half good though, he commits to full on nut-job at least, plugging away at a joke until the uncomfortable silence from the crowd eventually turns into genuine laughter. I suppose its a cheaper option than paying for therapy. Another comedian did not have any rapport with the crowd. At all. Half the crowd ended up starting a coalition against him, not taking to his banter in the slightest. On the other hand, he did not take well to their criticism either, and was close to getting off the stage and fighting certain members of the audience a few times. All in all, a great atmosphere for a comedy gig.

Thankfully, I was up next. My nonsensical ramblings put the crowd at ease, and managed to appease some of the tension. Almost hit the 15 minute mark, which would’ve have been achieved if I didn’t see the MC flashing his phone at me to wrap it up. Like the blog, quantity, if not always quality, is being reached in the stand-up routine. Also managed to get in a brief Q&A session with the audience before I finished up. Which was nice. My buddy gave me a good roundabout compliment afterwards. Roughly, he reckoned only 5% of the laughs I got were fake ones. A step in the right direction I suppose. All in all though, those 15 minutes were definitely worth a trip up to Dublin. Still not sure if that definitely is a sincere or a sarcastic one. Have to wait and see. I did record it though, so I’ll stick it up here for anyone that might be interested. Something to laugh, or wince at, at least.

The 3 DJ gigs were just superb. Really great. Mainly as I got paid. Wuu, superb. The first on Friday was a bit different than I expected. In fact, if I never have gigs better than Friday, I will be disappointed. I kind of have gotten used to the fact that I can’t play just what I like. Play to the crowd and all that. So, after being briefed on the crowd for gig one, I thought I had a good set of songs lined up. Em, not necessarily. In fact, I had to revert to 80’s all the way (not really the good kind of 80’s either). Singalong and controlled chaos seemed to be the order of the day. Part of my soul was left behind at the venue, but had to be done, I’ll build it back up.

The second gig was in a cool place, Everyman Theatre, I would recommend heading along to it sometime. However, it was a few gems in the crowd here who threw me off. Particularly the girl who insisted on telling me that she split her drink on the dance-floor. I couldn’t figure out if she expected me to clean it up, or buy her a new one. It was odd. Likewise, the girl who told me, numerous times, that she didn’t like the bouncer, was a bit strange as well. Not sure how that was relevant to me. Not that I am calling her dumb, but seeing as she requested a Michael Jackson song, while the actual song she wanted was playing, made me think something was up. Maybe I was just too sober to see her drunken logic. Still though, the more gigs the merrier.

And my final gig, last night, was the best of the lot. Showed up, prepared to the brim after being taken aback the night before, pumped to go! I had even ironed my shirt for the occasion! And, obviously, there ended up being no gig. A mix-up with equipment being delivered, or not, as it turned out, ended up with a lack of necessary tools for me to be able to play. Which was only figured out by myself and the owner when we showed up at the same time, but was by then too late to sort anything else out. Anyways, being paid some money to show up for 10 minutes and then go home, is better than nothing I suppose. All counts towards the L.A fund!

My biggest achievement of the week, might have been finishing the book Zen & The Art of Motor Cycle Maintenance. It only took me 203 days to complete. I know this, as I started it on Christmas Day. An embarrassingly long time to finish a book, but it was worth it in the end. Read on, if you haven’t already, even if it does get bogged down in certain places. Speaking of books, I would recommend The Road Less Traveled. I am having to draw on lessons I learnt from that a lot this week. That is, you have to struggle and persevere through the bleaker times, in order to appreciate the good times more. All part of the cycle! I am in the Dark Ages. Struggle on, the only way is up!

Song of the weekend… I think this video is ridiculously good, similar to my dancing style really!

Foreign Born

Winter Games - Foreign Born

Prison Break


Unless I am mistaken, Cork, as in the city itself, is not actually a prison. Except, obviously, for the actual prison that is here. Besides that though, there are no physical barriers to prevent one from leaving. Mental barriers seem to be the only problems that might stop somebody for leaving. I wasn’t out on probation and now being legally forced back to Cork to stay here forever.

So, when people keep asking if I am freaked to be back, I can honestly say no, I’m not. Why would I be freaked? The only thing, I thought, that was beginning to freak me out a bit was that people would ask me over and over, prodding me for the answer they wanted to hear, only satisfied if I might eventually say – Freaked alright, freaked! “I knew it, I’d be freaked too if I was you.” I’d obviously prefer to be L.A right now, but what should I do, wallow around in despair and just sigh all the time? I also wouldn’t mind being on a beach in the Caribbean perhaps, there are plenty of other places I’d like to be.

Last night was my first night back out in Cork. It was almost forced going out though, feeling like I should really be out. Just back home, first time in about 6 months, plus my birthday the day before, I surely should be out having a few boozes. However, and I suppose this is a good thing, I realized that the majority of buddies who I’d go out with usually, have now departed from Cork, flown the rooster or however that saying goes. Not even the reliable Dr. Lump was around! Quite bizarre.

Anyways, went out, met a good few people that I hadn’t seen in, strangely, about 6 months, ha, good enough initially. Although when I did ask – What are you up to since last time I saw you – and got told “Ah, the usual, you know yourself shur” I did think to myself, that I have no clue what the usual for you is, at all. Gay gyms, C – Z list celebrity hanger on, and selling Super Shammys to Nazis, off the top of my head? I know it only too well! 

One funny thing I noticed, especially if someone offers to buy a drink, is that people still seem to be almost offended if you ask for a light beer, instead of a pint. “Light? Are you gone gay?” Agreeing with them -Yeah, very, how did you know? – throws them off a bit. “Are you still eating like a hawk too? Jesus, what’s wrong with you?” as they put their pints on their bellies and fold their arms, looking me up and down with a slight look of disgust. Not sure really, something has gone wrong I agree but could you ask them for a tiny little umbrella sticking out of the bottle too if you don’t mind, cheers boss.

Good to see as well that so many people, who I might have thought didn’t really like me before, were so happy to see me back. “You’re back? I knew it, I knew you would be. I thought you were off wri-thing mooo-vies? Just gave up I suppose? I knew it” Thumbs up. Some randomer let me know “I heard you on the radio, you were s**t”. Cheers bud, two thumbs up. One guy in particular decided to come up to me early in the night, drunk, and tell me “Oh look who it is, the blog is it, huh, what a load of crap. You do know that nobody reads that crap. You’re back I see anyways, about time”. Good to see your eyes work well. Then, later in the club, presume even more drunk, same guy “C’mere, do you know in the blog, I read it once, who was the hot neighbour you were on about? Was she savage or what? Was your man really a Nazi too?” then stumbles off muttering “Load of crap really, I could do way better”.

They were only minor few really though, funny to laugh at all the same. Being honest, the night was grand, nothing to write home in a blog about (oh Jesus). I started thinking, maybe I was actually freaked to be back? However, it was when genuine buddies might ask why I was actually back, and I told them I was back for a few weeks now, instead of, in all probability, in 2 weeks time, was that my Gran had passed away, that I began to realize in my own head why I might not be in the most exuberant of moods. Not that I was freaked to be back, but obviously just down or sad for the reason I had to come home, who wouldn’t be though? (On a side note, I’m not sure why I type the word Gran, yet say the word Nana? Strange to me, but anyways).

Still though, being unknowingly reminded of this over and over again, throughout the night (not that it was anyone’s fault, obviously) puts a bit of a damper on the night. Which might explain why I was home for about half 1, ha, a great sign for any night really, especially one when you are not doing a sober Joe. Although the fact that the club I was in felt like the afters of a bad wedding didn’t really help too much either.

A few people were asking me as well last night what made me decide to funk off over to L.A in the first place. One guy asked me to put it in the blog as he didn’t think he’d be sober enough to remember, ha, and could read it today. Not really sure, but I know the following helped. Reading The Alchemist was one. Listening to Sigur Ros. Movies like Into The Wild. Another great book is The Road Less Traveled. None of them might inspire others, good few people would probably highly dislike all of them, but they worked for me. I must go listen, read or watch something like that now, to help me plot my prison break attempts tomorrow.

For anyone in America reading too, here are a few photos my brother took, showing off what the main streets in the main cities in Ireland look like.

I could say that this was the first song that played, that was on the first unknown burnt CD I found in my car yesterday, when I drove again back here for the first time. But, it wasn’t. It was the about 5th song I flicked onto. Either way, a good jail breaking song if anyone needs one.

Away From Here by The Enemy