Once Upon A Time
The story doesn’t matter as much as how it’s told. I said that to my friend and it’s true to some extent.
In the case of the following story it’s the story that matters as does the storyteller being alive to tell it.
Once upon a time, in St. Stephen’s Green, at the top of Grafton St. on the south side of Dublin city, a little girl was walking hand in hand with her daddy. This was no ordinary little girl. She was beautiful. She had the brightest blue eyes her daddy, or anyone else, had ever laid their eyes on. When she was just a few weeks old, her mammy had dressed her in a suit that had a Russian hat. When her daddy carried her through the I.L.A.C. centre on the north side of Dublin city, people stopped and stared at the extraordinary blue-eyed beautiful baby girl. Her daddy felt amazing. He felt proud, very proud. I know this because I am the daddy.
A wonderful night in Aberdeen, Dec. 2018
I already told this story in a little video clip a while ago. I bought a helium balloon for Katie, let it go with her permission, she bawled when the great idea of seeing it soar skyward became an instant tragedy, I bought a new one for her and took her to Bewley’s to see her mammy and all the gay waiters fancied her daddy. I’m not making this up, any of it. It felt strange to be the object of desire for men.
Today, for the first time since then – and anyone reading knows how I feel about firsts – Katie and I were in St. Stephen’s Green. You know something, I forgot to jokingly ask if she’d like a helium balloon.
Dublin can be Heaven at anytime of the day when you stroll through Stephen’s Green, hold on, it’s MY Green, I own it.
Espresso Martinis in Aberdeen
I have a serious anniversary approaching. It’s almost a year since I was hours from death.
What’s another year? It’s priceless. The past year has been the most bizarre of most of our lives. Anyone who’s come close to never seeing the person they love most again, ever, will know how special this past year has been for me, how special this present day has been for me and how precious each and every living minute is – even when I’m going through a tough time and before I moved into my beautiful new apartment I went through the most psychologically, emotionally and many other ‘ally’ fucked up time of my entire life – and that’s saying something. I might write about it – ha, ha I’m laughing at ‘might’ – at some stage. I knocked loudly, very loudly, on death’s door and Grim wasn’t home. That doesn’t mean it’s been easy for me to deal with shit. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, so, it hasn’t been difficult, either.
The thing I love and hate, in equal measure, about this life is that in a split second it can be over. This is something everyone knows but some know it more than others.