Aiféala

here's an old poem from 2009 that I just found scribbled in an old notepad

Ar na Staighre Spainneach, tógaim grianghraif di
Turasóir álainn, meangadh gáire uirthi
Amharc eadrainn, lán le paisean
Cúpla focal, agus d’iompaíos liom
Ag breathnú siar anois, tá fhios agam nach ndearnas
Leath-iarracht dul i ngleic léi
An radharc is fearr sa Róimh

Thoughts on a rainy night

In the dark hours of night with the sodium glow
permeating the sky and making me feel low
I stand in the downpour and get soaked to the skin
I raise my face to the sky and senses reel in
they've been gone for a while, as I wandered in rags
accosting strangers and tourists begging for fags
screaming at ghosts, clawing at the air
sleeping with women who weren't really there
I met cowboys and Indians, liars and crooks
I met men who appeared from the pages of books
they taught me to see the real world that we're in
I tried to warn people, but they wouldn't listen
they call me a madman, a hobo, a drunk,
it seemed like my senses were all in a funk
but the rain washes away my physical sheen
my body is ready, my mind is pristine
I'm watching them both from a really great height
And I know the rain can't wash away the truth in the night

I've been doing a bit of narcissistic photography recently, especially since the weather's so good, it's nice to play outside. If anybody uses Instagram, I upload a lot of my photography on there. Look me up under the username 'dermhurl' - same as Twitter and Youtube. No real other reason for this blog post, I just feel like I haven't done anything in a while. I've spent the last 2 weeks reading 'Rubicon' by Tom Holland, which I should have easily finished in a few days, if it weren't for the constant distractions one tends to find on sunny summer days. such as the following snaps:

beside the whitewashed stone shed in the home place, Co. Donegal

looking across the bay to Clare

down by the Plassey wreck, best known from the opening credits of 'Father Ted'

looking west towards America

leaning on a hedge in 'the street', Bruckless Co. Donegal

Máiméan - scéal. scríofa.

Bhíomar ag bun an tsléibhe. Ní mór dúinn fágáil, bhí an oíche ag titim anuas. Bhí teas sa ghréine go fóill, agus tar éis an dhreap, ní raibh éinne dínn nach raibh tart fulaingteach orainn. Cuimhnigh mé go raibh uisce sa charr agam. Iontach dearfach. Bhí Cholm an duine is deireanaí síos ón tsliabh. Agus, mar is gnáth, bhí seisean ag tiomáint. Muide thíos ag fáil bháis ón tart agus eisean ag siúl mar ná raibh aon dualgas air ar domhain. Shroich Choilm an charr, agus shín sé a lámh ina phóca chun eochair an charr a fháil.

"Ó MO DHIA!!!!! CÁ BHFUIL NA FECKIN EOCHRACHA!!!!!"

B'é sin an chéad rud a chualas uaidh. Fear ciúin ann de gnáth, ach nuair a bhreathnaigh mé thall ina threo, bhí sé ag déanamh hurlamaboc den chineál nach chreidfeá dá raibh aithne agat air. Gach uile rud tógtha as a phócaí agus caite ar an talún. Chuile rud caite as a mhála chomh maith go dtí nach raibh pingin aige nach raibh i gcnoc beag ag a chois.

"Jhaysus, caithfidh siad bheith fágtha agam ar bharr, áit a raibh an phic-nic againn..." ar sé agus ní fhaca mé fear chomh dólásach agus díomách riabh, agus é ag smaoineamh faoin sliabh a dhreap arís. Ansin thosaigh sé ag rith, ar ais i dtreo bharr a sléibhe. ní raibh sé imithe i bhfad nuair a fhuair muid amach nach raibh an charr faoi ghlas in aon chor. Chuaigh Dáire, Caomhín, Aindrias agus mé féin sa tóir ar na heochracha laistigh den charr. Bhíos féin ag tógáil rudaí amach as tóin an charr, nuair a chonaic mé iad ansin: ar an talamh. Ar an feckin talamh. Nach muide uilig na heejits cheart? Bhíomar.

Nuair a bhí fhios ag gach éinne go raibh na heochracha faighte, bhí sceitimíní orainn ar fad, thosaigh Caoimhín ag rince ar díon an charr, bhí sé chomh áthasach. Rinne muid iarracht scairt a chur ar Choilm. Bhíomar in ann é a fheiceáil, agus é fós ag rith, igcéin uainn. Bhí an fón aige fanta ar an talamh sa chnoc bheag. Faoi dheireadh, agus na guthanna beagnach imithe uainn agus le cabhair ó chorn an chairr, thug sé faoi deara muid, agus thuig sé céard a bhí i gceist.

Deich nóimimt ina dhiaidh sin, bhíomar ar ár bhealach abhaile.