"Course she digs you. You've bantered. She insults you. She wants to meet up. The fuck more do you want?"
"No, no I know that, but what I mean is the kinda diggery results in an awkward breakfast and plenty talk of 'So, yeah. Um. Last night…' and then a slap in the maw and shut the fuck up, nothing happened."
"Hmm. I see. Well this anxiety is doing me no good. I'm getting sympathy anxiety! I'm getting nauseas! Make a note."
I make a note - "Sir Fleming riddled with sympathy anxiety."
And now the notes here, scattered round the keyboard, Modest Mouse on iTunes, singin all bout "My thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth", the narrative still danglin on the edge of some Grand Majestic Happening that I ain't got the distance for to contemplate just yet, still looking up towards it, shimmerin away there gainst the night, the focus getting sharper with every paragraph.
Thoughts Relating To The Wonderful Evenin Spent In The Company Of Sinéad And Her Cohorts, a clarity creeping cross it like the dawn light stretching towards the peak a The Spire Of Dublin, or The Stiffy By The Liffey and me sat watching it at 5am from the window of the hotel bar.
The Spire, what it is, is a gigantic concrete needle, 393 feet tall, occupying the chunk a O'Connell Street once played host to Nelson Pillar, fore the IRA decided to blow the fucker senseless.
"The pin in the bin", the receptionist fella spits when I get to asking him bout what the hell it's all in aid of, anyhow? "Was supposed to be done for the millennium, 2003 they finally finished the bloody thing."
"Do you like it?"
"It's fuckin shockin, it's offensive. Look where it is, right next to the most wretchedly impoverished streets in Dublin, a slap in the yap if ever was one."
The Spire, it cost four million euro to build. Cross the road from it a man can see fifteen-year-old kids counting the change they bummed for to go grab a spoonful a numbness later on.
But how pretty it is, nonetheless, The Pointless Point, The Spire In The Mire.
I popped a couple sleepers into the palm, put the notes back into my jacket pockets, thanked the fella and bid him g'night, or g'morning. Either or.
Article comments
1 - Bennett
Ohhhhh man! Guitar strings? Love the line about your buddie's punch!
Hell, I yanked my braces out with pliers and wire cutters when I hit 18 because it didn't seem like nothing but mouth torture.
Then smacked out the two front ones anyway on a glass door that didn't open outwards. Caps my man. Caps!
The tale grunges on. I presume we'll hear about Sinead at some point. Looking forward to whatever happens.
Thanks Duke.
2 - Greg Smyth
McMullan, you're a bloody tease! Top notch, though.
3 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Bennett an Greg, thank you!
Bennett, part five should, if all goes to plan, ie, what im thinkin right now with not quite enough caffeine in the system yet, begin to cover those particular bases. i felt all the dentistry stuff was important for to illustrate the array of anxieties runnin rampant.
Greg, thank you, as ever. an apologies for the tease. heh, i couldn't resist...
4 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
ha! a good, wise friend just pointed out the similarities between the teeth scene up yonder an the similar "punch me" scene in Fight Club.
alas, my version weren't fictional. how i wish it were...
5 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
just a note to say Part Five's up, if anyone's at all curious. thanks folks.