204.June 11

posted Jun 10, 2010, 10:27 PM by David Storlie   [ updated Sep 8, 2010, 7:36 AM ]
Dublin, Ireland
I missed the 09:00 return train to Dublin by minutes, so I took a stroll around Cork, took a picture of the Beamish Brewery from on top of the Castle walls, and slowly looked at things. I stopped back at the hostel to get my British 20 pound note back from my deposit on the bike, I don't need more Irish money, especially since it is worth less. Now I am on the train to Dublin.
Hooray, I am so wiped out. I found the hostel bed that I am now lounging in, in solitude up three flights of huge stairs, with a really helpful guy down guarding the door twenty-four hours. I was going to get a single room at 11 pounds, but he said he wouldn't put anyone else in my dorm room for only 6 pounds. I've emptied everything out on the floor. It is a great room (really huge, with sixteen excellent bunk beds). I shaved when I got here. Now I have a mustache and a goatee. It was fun.
I went for a walk around Dublin. I ate great Tex-Mex food at a place called Poco Loco. I was going to go on a Literary Pub Crawl, but I was late in finding the starting point, and didn't feel motivated to do it. I went to The Bailey anyway, for a half pint of Smithwick's, which was good and light. A man began to talk to me, and asked me to got to some pubs with he and his friends to hang out. He told me that they would only be gay clubs. I was interested in going, but they seemed to be heavy drinkers, and I wanted to wander. I did for a long time and had fun. I found a really cool street with many cool places to eat and a place called the Rock Garden where I paid 4.50 pound to hear and see a band. It was one singer and a keyboard player. They were good, experimental, but I got sick of the keyboard and his voice, so I left after a pint of Smithwick's, which I did not like as much here. They were on their third song. They had started the music one hour late from what a sign had said. I walked back towards the hostel. On the way, a woman named Penny Lowman talked to me about animals (she had two scary dogs tied to her) and citizenship and living on a farm. We were talking across from the Dublin Post Office, where they held a revolt in nineteen-sixteen.
POSTCARD:
I just bought a novel on my way out of Ireland by Frank Delaney called "The Sins of Mothers" I don't know what it is about, I'm not very far in it yet, but I thought it would be fun to read something by a relative. He is from the south of Ireland, so he could be a relation. That way I can say writing is in my blood, along with William Bradford's "Of Plymouth Plantation." Last night, I talked to a woman (a fortune teller by day to make money to pay for her animals who saw me looking at a map and thought I might need help. She told me that if we get your birth and marriage certificates, and those of your parents and grandparents (if they were born in Ireland) you could get Irish citizenship. Then I could get Irish citizenship, and be able to live and work in both Ireland and the United Kingdom. This would be a valuable asset if we could arrange it. I would love to be able to work in England and Ireland sometime in my life. think about it, if your grandparents were born in Ireland, any of them.
She was also a horse breeder, and we talked about Arabians. She thought Chris & Rhonda should get only the best, and start breeding horses of course that is an Irish person speaking. I stayed at a nice hostel last night, and my room was empty, so I really got to relax. Dublin was good fun. I sould like to go back someday, but I especially want to go to Western Ireland again. I wore myself out too quickly travelling alone. But the older people were so friendly. I felt great when talking to people.
1994

DAVY BYRNES Lounge, the moral pub. We are both about to eat a gorgonzola and a glass of burgundy wine. I doubt the experience will be quite as sensual as Mr. Bloom perceived it. There are two large rooms, and a white marble topped bar in each. The floor is wood, herring boned and very light. 96 96 96 96 96 is the above bar decoration with a rectangle grate every so often. The chandeliers are huge, and beautiful, being very much like flowers. There is a painting over Sam's head of a Dyanician festival, painted in 1942 by Cecil French Salkeld. The stools, tall and small, have small round tops. Four angled legs of brown wood going down to a coat rack stand base. The tall ones have a copper ring a foot off the ground. There is a bust of James Joyce in his wide hat on a high wood pillar.

We were walking down O'Connell Street
and the lights were kinda low .

The night had just gone darker and the rain had turned to snow.

Sam took out his pop gun .and the bullets started flying

The people sitting in the pub were keelin' over dying.

I said to Sam, give them a break what did they do to you

Sam said "Come on back to jail with me, that's what their taxes do. 

They locked me up for four years
These Dublin born elitists .

So I'll send them down to heaven .where they will not be mistreated.

That's what they deserve my friend.

That what they deserve.

I would not give them any less than they deserve my Irish friend."
David thought about it hard along the Liffey
That class was more than money he thought it was a pity.
If only men could overcome the shackles of the past.
To overcome that dread monster is an enormous task.
But leading them are martyrs who fought hard and died.
We shant forget their valliance, we'll carry on their pride.
Soon we will conquer
the great grim walls of Kilmainham gaol,
and in our songs our children will know how we prevailed
Our fight will last until we have equity world wide .

and we have to yearn for justice or pay for liberty 

instead of gain, petitions, psalm will be our litany .

We won't put down our rifles, or shoot away our dreams, 

for republics of the working class, economic equity


We're about ready to go back to An Oige hostel, arrange train rides, and 
go to the St. James Gate Brewery for Guinness and gifts. After a tour of the Guinness brewery store, we went our separate ways after a coffee at the Sax cafe.
A slightly faster walking Woody Allen is in line near the Eblana Theatre, getting a coke. The Gaiety theater is celebrating its 125th year now. I did not see it. I'm actually at a bus station, Bus Eireann in Dublin, Ireland waiting for a bus to London, England which cost me #29 in IR. 
The potato salad, which I think is still in my stomach is sitting unhappy an causing a disagreement with the orange juice I pour down my throat every so often. there is a great tendency of people in Dublin to limp far more than what I would assume is average limping. There are no friendly eyes here before a connection has been made. But once words have passed, they quickly will give you the attention of a happiest. I've just been told some pertinent information on my super-bus service. 
Something that will save me energy, waiting, time and patience. All these things are very important. Let me tell you: After I climbed Binn Lettrie up in Connemara, I felt a climax to my trip that has not been transcended. Everything since then seemed to be closure. I did pee on the highest point of the mountain. I needed to. And it did not damage anything. I guess that may be one of my classier attempts at signing my name to something. 
I wish I had some water for this trip, but I do have orange juice and fruits. 
Many people are coming in now. I think that it is livening the atmosphere. The annoying old man saying "Hey baby" to a few women has now passed away to a better place. 
I'm glad I have no money now. It takes away al the temptation I might feel. A vampire man is standing to my right with dark hair, a sharp nose, a leather jacket and green sea pants, sallow face, hollow face, and cross trainer shoes on. their is a stripe, sporting down the side of his pants. 
I am medium old so life does not scare me. Nor hunger. Does there have to be a long night to pass before I reach London? I hope so greatly for sleep. .I'm so close to being able to read Irish Miles, which I finally found in Dublin, long out of print. 
There is a woman in a red shawl just walked past me. Lots of cigarettes blazing in this no smoking lounge, with ashtrays. I better queue. there is a parent conversation going on in front. but I think on second thought that they are not married. She has a child. The man seems very inflammatory. He is greatly offended that an old man was talking dirty to her. She said she won't let it bother her. The child just screams for crisps or cheese slices.
1997
Comments