Just Another Great Day Without You

There is a blind man who takes my bus from the same bus stop as me each morning. The bus drivers all seem to know him and always make sure to stop the bus right in front of him to ease his ascent. Because buses are relatively infrequent where I live, the bus tends to be quite full when it arrives and seats are few. Recently I’ve noticed something: when the bus comes into view everyone gets up from the bench or finishes their cigarette or whatever to strategically (and shamelessly) position themselves around the blind man. Try and imagine the scene as everyone gets as close to him as possible without touching him. It’s a strange sight to see as, while people wouldn’t dare stand that close to a seeing person, every morning this blind guy suddenly becomes (for about 40 seconds) the Belle O’ the Bus Stop.

Anseo had the pleasure of my company again Monday night. Myself and a few like-minded music fans (I couldn’t be bothered giving psuedonyms or initials. What are you going to do about it?) enjoyed the sweet sounds of Pinky’s guitar picking and, of course, his voice. Anseo, while a bit divish, is a fantastic pub and I can reveal that this week it entered Stigmund’s Top 10 Dublin Drinking Emporiums.

I am still not an uncle! My sister’s due ejection date was last Friday but still no news. I really think it’s time she showed that fetus who’s boss, you know? On the other hand, I remember well the good ol’ days in the womb. Just sitting there. All warm, sleeping, being fed through a tube. You really can’t blame the little tyke.

I watched the harrowing ‘Dancer in the Dark’ Tuesday night. It’s one of those films where, from the outset, you just know the protagonist is going to get mistreated/screwed over/abused/robbed/pillaged (one or more of the above). I found myself after about 15 minutes actually making a concerted effort to resist Bjork’s charm and powerful graciousness so I wouldn’t end up a blubbering disgrace at the end. While I was entranced and bewitched and more by her (her singing ability was never in question but hot dang, that girl can act) I, oddly enough, didn’t give in. Not something I’m normally good at. I like to think of myself as a man for the 21st century, rejecting the Macho Man/Lad Culture. And I also like to remind people of that when the lights go up and I am found hiding my face in my hands, with tears and snot flowing freely and my shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

So yesterday, my third consecutive day with NOTHING to do at work (today is my fourth), I found myself Image-Googling Bjork. She is beautiful. The most beautiful cuckoo-lady on the planet.

I can’t finish without mentioning the unspeakable tragedy in Italy this week. Whoever committed this murder must be brought to justice immediately. There are some horrendous people in this world. To the younger or more sensitive furiousthinking readers among you: scroll with caution.




Sick

Originally uploaded by stigmund.


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