I have the City under my feet again! Power brokers and bubbled writers have not! They walk on red carpets!
The end of May, there will be a Pagan marriage on the beaches of a windy Ireland I am invited!. As soon as I’m about to give up the whole project, people talk to me. They tell stories. They show me pictures of kids being stumped by the police during the welfare queens visit! Cerebral Parleces patients talk to me about how the Herb is getting them better!
Real people do not walk on red carpets! Real people will not be denied their way just because some fucking queen needs to be carried around the whole town! So have a safe journey back to London Grannie!
I think nether me or anyone else in the vicinity of Dublin will miss you! As regards to the writers here, you should have been in front of an attack group instead of living it up on homegrown weed in your own ivory towers!
I plead to any writer with a brain in their heads to start doing what is right.
Have you been bought by an ounce of luxury, recognition.. the small glitter of fame? Botox?
That has never been a happy fate of a Writer! A writer lives his writing, while carrying his home on his back, looking for a dry place to sit with his pen to write another line! To live throug memories! To relive them as Ground Hog Day!
Or to drop everything down the floor to run away once again from what is your destiny! The choice is simple! Yet so hard! How can you choose away something that was chosen for you a long time ago? Kill yourself? Become a politician? Try to survive under the petty rules of some corporation?
Or tell the truth no matter what the consequenses?
There lies the big difference!
I live in the real world! Yet I long away from here! Trying to teach you punks anything is like throwing pearls for hogs!
Where is the adventure if your wallets are stuffed with dollar bills and a ticket to the next ride for free, eh?