How to Stay Awake All Night in London (without really trying)

The filling of 13 hours or so... Land from Aberdeen. Change terminals and change out of the suit. Answering the Baggage Company’s questions. Tube. Text. The Moon Under Water for Pimms and Lemonade and Fish and Chips and Peas. Front row for the aptly named Long Day’s Journey Into Night. London Pride at the Lamb and Flag. Slow walk through Covent Garden past one Belushi’s across Waterloo Bridge and down past the Oxo pier and Founder’s Arms and the Globe to another one. Chicken Cottage. Cut-faced man scrounging the ground for the best of the used cigarettes and asking “Guv’nors” for their 20p. Police on London Bridge. Name of the Wind and Joel Plaskett at Oystergate, with the river rolling left to right. Thinking Wishful Thoughts, of times gone by.

That brings you to 2:46AM. Next will be St. Paul’s and Millenium Bridge. That tree. Thoughts of a little night bus ride in search of the dandy (he smiles). More reflections, soaking in the city, and the year itself. The sleep deprivation adding to the unreality of it all. The leaving. The return to the past as the path forward for the future. That reference and the Irish overtones in the Eugene O’Neill nicely appropriate for the mood. The soul at peace with the city and the city at peace with the soul, knowing she’ll always be your lover...

Perfect execution of a glorious plan, I’d say. No better way to say goodbye. Or fare thee well, I suppose. Until next time. As the Arsenal and the even grander access to season tickets in Block 5, along with the discovery of the Rylance Winter Shakespeare run tonight. And what other shows may present themselves, too, enticing you back across your Broad Atlantic and down to the top of Kili.

The question of the night, the same for the next months. Who can be persuaded to join? Remember those commitments, born of the Achill moment and fruitful Asian meditations. And see where it might lead. Would be good to bring company back to the Thames and its soft summer breezes. As an answer to its open questions, like.

‘Cause it’s a long long way to winter. After all.

Ah, London, you make me feel a bit like a time traveler through my own life.  Will do my utmost to see you before 2012 is out.  The odds are very good.

Touring the Grill

Thanks for the tip, my man...  b/c otherwise I would have seen nothing of Aberdeen... instead, good reconnaissance of the city via the main Scotch bar's menu.  Not the Mill (or the Justice Mill), but the Grill baby.  Took the Aberlour tour tonight, and the Abunabh even better than the 18, but in truth didn't have enough time to savour.  Tour of the Islands manana.  Or today, I should say.  After all, there is only 3 hours to go before the wake-up breakfast Haggis.  Unless that's postponed another day.

Off the phone with BNS, and so the last of the good men have been told of the life plan ahead... so great to hear about the "hey dad" look that melts all the troubles away at the end of the day.  And how about the first home bought, via Inch, maybe.  Trust me.  Heh.  I do, and so.  Let's do it.

Long day tomorrow....  "you put some gas in your tank and some air in your lungs because you know there's a song that's gotta get sung."  Glendronach the recommendation from the old cabbie...  and who is the random Pike companion with the food on his shirt who knows everything about curling in NFLD?  Ah ah ah.

4AM.  Sunlight coming up.  I wish you were here, but you're not.  No no no, but you're nahh ahh ah ah ah aht.

But who is the "you".  Always the question, non?  Wishful thinking is all I got.

Caledonian Ascension

Where to start?  /tig coili, with the 2 Real note above the bar that I stared at, knowing I had never seen it before, until realizing it was Brazilian, and I would be seeing it soon.  After the rest of the conversations, of course.  "Is it really yours, if you throw it away?" said the chalk on the ground on the Long Walk.  I couldn't say... otherwise... I do so love the river, the flow, the magic, the colours, the darkness, the ability to walk down the stairs and lean against the bridge and plan for Louis Treize.  Which must be done.  Hope the Rioja doesn't mind the current.

Just as the music ended, you arrived for pint one.  Fair.  Sure you were more excited upon arrival in '05 with Gatts, it being just a bit much and all.  Except, there were the dollar bills.  That remind you of No Name Bar, and Flemming, and how life could be so easily different if you grew up chanting roll tide or c'mon murray state racers!  Probably.  And yet.  "I see why they sing songs about Girls from Galway" on one.  Not here, or now, but still class.  Even as you arrived, just in time for the end of the fiddles, it was the I'll fly away, on the juke.  Magnificent.

Enough to restore balance to everything by taking that empty glass back.  Past the Montreal girl outside talking to the bleach blonde.  Not worth talking to, at this stage.  But you'll always say that, when you are in such a state.

"I'll keep my head where I want."

"I can get him out of the room..."
 As I thought, the $1 bill so funny - "I love Galway, harder to leave every time..."  Etc. Etc.

The dollar bills, "I love Galway, harder to leave every time..." Heh.  Enjoyed the Bartlett for America, always good memories.  All the different ways a life could go, dependent, etc.  Early tonight, I thought: "Savour it man, he says to himself", as if you could find it, trap it, keep it.  Pint 2 was at long-ignored Buskers, in 10p coins.  Satisfying as it was, how avoid it as they were singing Call Me Al 2/3rds from the end?

Last pint was at the Front Door, 5p coins, and there may just be a picture.  Hopefully, most likely blurry at best but still the idea...  Convos with Mom/Dad, Kath, and Al, tonight... as well as AI.  So yes, I am ready to go, ready to start.  Finding the Joel Plaskett Cd was grand at Oxfam, and perhaps the condo will even be purchased before arrival?

Almost too much, perchance, as I lie here in the sleeping bag that was proffered in the beginning, and blank pillows and comforter and a far-too-heavy suitcase ready for the long way home via Aberdeen and London and Indy.  Alas and alack and amazing.

Love is... like jazz...  and we'll show the restraint unbecoming and unlikely, and save it for another day.  But remembering, of Galway and Ireland and this mad year of 8 months...  the way Babs Shaller looked back at you at the bus stop in Limerick on Saturday.  With that sad smile in her eyes.  See her again, at least.

Yeah, surely.  Just as I will see you again, Eire.  Keep good care of Dick Macks and Peader O'Connoll's and Nancy Blake's and Bernard Shaw's and the Long Walk and ....   everything, lads.  The Cat is in the Sack... go on and win the fecking Euros.  Missed you shall be, my girl, Eire.

Dying all day in thousands of little ways,
Dancing alone, and drinking a lot,
Closing the clubs and haunting the cabarets.
Looking for what?

Another 5.... years of your life,
If you don't cry, it isn't (love) much
If you don't cry, then you just don't feel it deep enough...,

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8W97YAYPFGw&feature=related

12:08 / 4:08

Remember this?  That slightly sinking feeling in an empty, anonymous room.  Waiting for the year, for this chapter, just to be over.  The odds of bumping into HK just before the presentation, who cares not a jot about it and seemed ridiculously serene.  The odds, at least of that being the first time you see him since January.  My word.  And, how after lunch, tearing down the blinds from the wall accidentally.

Just a mess.  Ah well, it's only time, as the Magnetic Fields sing.  Although it does change things.  Alright, let's finish this off...

UPDATE: 1:36 / 5: 36.  Forgot to mention the 3000 quid in an envelope in my jacket pocket (don't get mugged!)  And the presentation just confirming the correctness of the Achill choice.  Just not convincing in selling the value of moving beyond the theoretical (sorry, conceptual) definition, or on community wind farms in general.  Glad to have done this though, to confirm the intuition and imagine the horrors ahead on the path now avoided.  But you'll be missed, Eire.  4 more nights - but all downwind from here!

FURTHER: Closure even more complete on the amble home, with the unexpected stop into the cathedral for the 6PM mass as the Catholics get closer to marking Ascension Day this Sunday.  An appropriate one, in a vague sense, befitting a departure.  Funny to be within the church walls, pondering the different ways the money in the envelope in the pocket could go, the stories that would result based on handing it over - whether to the young red head or the old cross-walk worker or otherwise.  Something for a future story?  Perhaps.  Left as well with the thought of Hanger from the love of life tour, and that a great man must have a love for the human being.  So simple, and a mentality that you keep coming back to with a wry smile.  Adopt it, eh?  Sweet dreams, McMahon, and one more post before you go...

Remembrance

I was to remember things, about today. 

How of all things I forgot the memory card for the camera, and so that drive along the Torr Head Scenic Route had to be just for you (us).  How the sun and shadows fell on that green field!  The closures and diversions.  The call to the dealership because you couldn't start it!!!  Fuck, the way the rest of the Friday unfolded for you there, from Larne.  How the rest of the road bent and curled itself just so, hinder and yon, as the words were meant to be used.  The gasps and wonder and classical music.  Elevazione, by Domenico Zipoli (a masterpiece of life).  And Nocturne, by Anthony Phillips. 


Then Derry.  Again.  The choice of Pimms, and the Walls, and the Sun on the bridge over the Foyle.  Your favored girl, of all Ireland, even.  As you waited and waited.  There were other things, to remember, I am sure.  The guy walking on the side of the road, in that jacket with the yellow letters in bold: "Prepare to Meet Thy God."  Afterward, there were the disco ball shoes that walked away in the distance with that pizza, of course.  First, there was the happy birthday music at that crap restaurant.  But necessary.  Then Peader's, amidst the amazing music...  "I wish I was back home in Derry!"  ...  and how you complained about being in Northern Ireland and having to pay with the Queen's money, and he said, first, wait, you are in Ireland! and then noticing his shirt.  The 40th anniversary of Bloody Sunday.  The green Free Derry bracelet.  Etc.  Let me buy you a pint.  But I can't buy your round back!  Doesn't matter.  Then the smile.  The electric violin.  The toe-taping.  Never too old to rock.  And all the boys demonstrating just how it is so. 

That music was so so good.  And that random camcorder, god bless him, got it all.  Tits included.

Then Sandinos.  Liam.  The Parisian and the Pole.  And our girl in Derry, decked out like mad.  Carry her on your back to Rockets?  Wish it was further.  Heh.

But there were other things to remember.  The walk and sunset on the Walls.  The kiss on the cheek from the random teenage.  The deliciousness of Pimms, despite the cold hands.  The 7.99 memory card after missing it earlier.  "I never thought I'd see you again."  Another missed last call at Sandinos, and just photos.  Eery sense of snoring as opposed to the wind in this room keeping you up, as before.  And the soft feel of her legs, as she drops you off...   ah, Moving On.  yeah?  I'll remember.  Well.

Don't forget your shovel.  Let's head for Waterford.  Kate Riley's Kitchen!  There's always tomorrow...  And then...  oh, Ireland.  You are so beautiful, how can I leave you... promise me you'll bring me back with someone fair?  I've learned oh so much, and so little.  It breaks my heart.

Sleepless Waiting

Inching that little bit closer to farewell, Galway.  Another email missive, followed by a strange week-long non-response, until yesterday's final meeting.  Now the extraction process is almost complete, although had to fold to the request for a final presentation.  I suppose that's just about fair, and an appropriate way to bring about the proper sense of closure to these past months.  Again, the half-hearted request to "pay something back" goes unheeded, hilariously.

A sweet start to this month of May - playing the waiting game, resting up for a busy summer and trading in the Guinness for runs on the Prom.  Destined to come to an end on the second last Irish TFI this weekend in Derry, but building up to an hour on the trot is no small accomplishment.  Can such impressive Sprint triathlon training be maintained?  Here's hoping.

No real wise words at this late hour, just want to document the aspirations for what is to come.  Remember those hopes for becoming engaged/involved, for seeking out new corners of the city and new eccentrics to view them with.  Never really got started over here, and I can sense why, the amount of effort required, the slight foreignness and uniqueness of circumstance.  That's why, perhaps, the retreat to the familiar is now to be welcomed, more so even than on previous returns, when there was still such distances (in finances and otherwise) to cover.  No longer, and so instead the return is to assets owned that symbolize the very freedom that is truly "sought after" (heh) - small vehicles for transport over land and sea.  Yes, they fit me well, and I so look forward to them.

I think that is why, this time, it just might work.  Needs the right attitude, of course.  And some luck.  But when have you truly lacked for that?

Time for sleep.  Only another few nights in Teach Ard - would be hilarious to return and rent her again, I must say.  Who knows?  It served its purpose, ultimately, as the noise and the madness and the solitude led to what must be the correct decision on the way forward, plus no doubt helped set the mind thinking of the qualities of the flat you are soon to buy.  Make that a good one.

Another sign-off before leaving, Eire, promise.  You have been good to me, and I'll not forget it.