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