And pie-charts, graphs, statistical analysis;
Is Dublin the cymbals? Or the bass? Or the fevered burps of the 6-string?
Evidence suggests - Dublin, it's the vinyl, and on its own t'is a thing of great seductive beauty, least till the sax starts risin, and then no, it's just that, it's black plastic, and all a man can find room for in the space between the soul and the brain is that streak a blindin intensity shreddin the topography, that sigh out the lungs of a thousand-foot Seraphim.
Dawn startin to bleed cross the streets, and the notes;
"No luck with rent-boys on Liffey Bridge."
The bridge, sometimes around half seven in the evening, what happens is 57% of the folks wandering across it never reach the other side, all of them lined up gainst the white railings, all of them wi eyes alive wi perversion, provided you got the green, provided you got the price of that quick one off the wrist an no kiss, stood with the trousers at the knees in the alley beside The Olympia, coughin into a stranger's ear on account of it's easier when you can't recognize them in the morning.
So I'm told, so they say, these entrepreneurs with the Master Card round the neck and the tattooed fist down the strides.
Throwing pillows cross the floor, and then no, turns out I want them back, and the headphones on, The Pogues, Shane spittin those beautiful odes to grime an abandon an cities painted wi the puke from a fella high on Behan;
"A man's ambition must indeed be small
To write his name upon a shithouse wall
But before I die I'll add my regal scrawl
To show the world I left with sweet fuck all
And when all of us bold shithouse poets do die
A monument grand they will raise to the sky
A monument made just to mark our great wit
A monument of solid shit now me boys"
Us bold shithouse poets.
Half-truths and unreliable recollections;
Stood at a bar few years ago, gut soaked in gin, hollerin to any and all;
"I'll be fucked if I leave this establishment 'thout a verse a 'The Auld Triangle'!"
And the gnashin an the sneers, the owner grabbin a fella by the arm, "Think it best you leave now, think you've maybe had enough", and The Duke hissin back "Fuck this barbarity, I pay your bastard wages!"
"A few pints a cheap stout at dinner-time every day! Thank fuck I'm not relying on your patronage for the mortgage!"
Article comments
1 - DJRadiohead
... as the first strains of "Waltz #2 (XO)" begin to play...
Aces. Absolute aces. I want a flat in Mondo Irlando and to never attempt to write again so as not to embarrass myself.
I guess what I am saying is... I enjoyed the fuck out this series of yours, Duke. Really, really did.
2 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
DJ, thank you, man. i feel like some sorta purgin was goin on, feel kinda exhausted with it all an ain't a hundred percent sure if it's any good, but nonetheless, feels like some sorta Full Stop's been issued, for sure.
3 - DJRadiohead
First let me assure you it was more than good.
I think I understand what you mean about the sense of... 'relief.' That sense you get when you finally finish the work and put it out there... a feeling only intensified when work is of a personal nature to you. There's an excitement and a terror and a thrill and a panic all happening at the same time and it is fucking exhausting.
Just wait til the others who have followed this saga check in. You're going to get kudos out the wazz. Of course, if you're anything like me, you'll appreciate the fuck out of the kind words and praise all the while not believing one fucking bit of it.
Regardless... I loved traveling along with you and Sir Fleming et all.
4 - Bennett
Yeah, I'll second that thought. Thanks Duke, it was a wild ride.
5 - Aaron Fleming (Sir)
Yep, absolutely fantastic. That last section is so wonderfully poignant.
God, it seems like years ago, or maybe another dimension, or, even, a dream. Geeky glasses, sigh.
"fella with the daft blue velvet jacket and the Clerks t-shirt" - Hahahaha, monstrous hilarity at that self-deprecation.
6 - Sinéad
the jacket was BRILLIANT!!
the clerks t-shirt was great also
7 - DJRadiohead
"Clerks" is a vital piece of American cinema. I need that t-shirt.
8 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
ach, sorry folks, i been out the game for a day or two. it honestly means a hell of a lot to know you folks dug it, since i was unsure if i liked this part or not, an still think i'll re-write the end at some point. but it does a man good to know some folks understood what was goin on, an got some sort of enjoyment out of it all. heh, the entertainment provided by a fella's soul-scourging agony.
and Sinéad, the jacket maybe was fairly brilliant in and of itself, but hung round my awkward frame, well, was like hangin a picasso on the side of a shithouse.
acutally, that'd be fuckin brilliant.
alright, was like watching Manhattan on a shitty tv with the picture panned and scanned and the aerial fucked so every now and again you get the news breakin through.
(break on through etc etc)
DJ, i'll lend you the shirt. it appears chicks dig it.
9 - Greg Smyth
I can't believe I didn't comment on this at the time. Really enjoyed this whole thing and am honestly a little sad it's finished. Keep it up, chief.
10 - Mat Brewster
I'll second that, Greg. 'ceptin' I just now read this final installment on account of needing the time and the mind frame to finnish such a lovely tale.
Thanks Duke.