5 Days of nonstop traveling and the rolling green hills of the Irish countryside have come to a standstill. Accompanied by a small but tightly kept community of Filipino immigrants, I find myself on one coast and then on another and another across this lush and historically rich landscape. Megalithic portal tombs and Castles turned kitschy B&B's. Everything is 3 hours from the next place. Everything.It's during these few precious and pernicious interruptions from the seemingly endless excursions that I feel that I finally have time to sit down and write. And, so, here it goes:
It never really occurred to me (though, I'd never really given it a thought) just how agrarian the entire country of Ireland is. I am all but absolutely convinced that 90% of the world's sheep population exists on this island. They are everywhere. Everywhere.
My appreciation of this, however, only grows by the day. Nightly, I ground myself with a DS and the world's most frustrating game*, a highly recommended graphic novel*, BSG* and Palahniuk. The infinite sidewalks and paved roads of southern California suburbs contrasted with the perpetual rain clouds and unceasing green fields of Ireland really hit you the right way when you take a moment to think it over.
The difficulty in establishing real human connection, I mean the kind that Burt and Verona* were looking for, the kind Hawthorne* is selling me with his soft and gentle voice. That's what I'm talkin' about. Online narcissism* has me thinking of you in the way that you advertise yourself but not in the way that you speak to me. It makes about as much sense as feeling the bass of a record sounding out of where your ass sits*. A clever rephrasing of pop culture references* is all we have to offer.But, you know, it is nice to just sit and watch the sheep.
*Please refer to "In my Mind (On the Queue)"