Back on the five day week and other depressing news of a recovering fucking economy

So there I was working away and then the boss said sorry lads but it's a three day week for the foreseeable future and I said thanks be to god for some motherfucking change round here.

And then off I went into the wilderness like Adam getting the boot out of the belly of the Celtic Tiger and holy fuck was it invigorating. To be thrown into the world of who knows what will happen next is an electrifying shock to the systems I tells ya - a much welcomed one.

All hail not knowing what happens next. I fucking hate predicatability. And spelling.

And on that note here's a poem.

FUKC
YUO

See?

Unpredictable for the win.

Now.

What's been happening?

Well.

I have a dog.

Yeah - the best dog in the world. He's like the littlest hobo, only blonder, and not solving crimes etc, and more settled, and needing lots of exercise. Cue loads of walks and talks with strangers (people are really nice out there). And realising that our airspace is no longer our own. You can't look at the stars and wonder anymore because the FASCIST SKY IS FULL OF PIGS!!!! Bleeding police chopper. Can they not make it invisible or something.

I got a skip.

A monster skip - and it's already full. Because being fully paid up members of this capitalism shitheap we have more junk than sense. Penny's you shower of bastards. I now have three full wheelie bins and one full skip. Everything in the current house will be in the skip in ten years including the HDTV and me, you heard it here first.

I mugged a House in Galway.

Oh yeah - Dublin PWNED Galway! Yeah in your face Connaught!!!

Ah here I'm tired even typing that. I have to stop thinking I'm 18.

Galway was amazing though.

Sarah Griff - a damn good young (don't hold that against her) poet doing an MA in Galway, asked me down to chat to her classmates. I gave an hour and a half lecture, sank some pints and woke up next day in a heap with minutes to spare before my train left. Take that Galway.

I went to an Over the Edge reading too. One of the city's longest running and best loved poetry nights. Michael Cody read. The guy's got proper writing stripes. See here.

http://aosdana.artscouncil.ie/Members/Literature/Coady.aspx

Aosdana baby. Where breaking new ground means printing pictures beside poems. Wow. If that's breaking ground what's having cybersex with multiple partners while maintaining a same sex marriage in an MMORPG? Nothing compared to pictures beside poems you fucking philistine.

Coady is brilliant though. A real wordsmith. And what a voice - makes you appreciate the power of a good delivery, but not only that. He had a poem about a photograph of a couple. A photo he saw on a headstone in a graveyard in Paris. It made you panic to live. Real poetry.

Kudos to Kevin Higgins and Susan Miller Du Mars for running a great night down there for so long.

Special mention goes to Sarah Clancy - who had a perfectly timed piece about finishing the heaving hulk that was Cowen the day before he did us all the favour. These cwazy domino times are when the rhymes come true.

Also - there is such a thing as too many hamburgers.

You haven't heard the last of me Galway.

The 'House' was the hotel. I left without paying my bill. Theft I spose. But not really. I just had to run for my train. I'm all paid up now.

I'm doing some shouting this Wednesday.

Yeah. In the stags head. At the first Brown Bread Mixtape of 2011. I always get drunk at this event because they give all the acts free pintage (keep em coming Kalle).

Here's a sample of what happened last time (fresh out of the oven). Loads of Drunk arrogance and shabby intonations but fuckit. Tis a postcard from then.

Have a listen.

I'm now in full time employment again. (I know, I said that already).

Pray for my wretched soul.

Maybe we can have a triple dip.

Only messing.

I heart money.