Vomit in the time of Darkness

They say that the first puke is the deepest. It growls deep in your guts. It swirls and clogs, heaves and plunges until the stomach cannot take it anymore. It erupts and spews through the throat, out the mouth and into the world. I always feel relief when I vomit. I always feel like it …

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The World is a safer place today…and here is why

Go for a walk. Get some fresh air. Clear the head. Then come in and put on the kettle. Have a cuppa. Sit back on the couch and let reality set in. It is OK. It is just another day and you are going to be OK. One of the great things about being a …

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Joe Brolly meets Donald Trump

Luckily enough for Joe Brolly he has a day job. And a seasonal job.  He slithers around the RTE studio and waxes lyrical about all things GAA. He squirms around like some chubby schoolboy, caked into his uniform. He tries to be the most outlandish and considering his colleagues are dry shite and cute hoor, then it’s never too difficult.

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Fuck the begrudgers

I’m staying in a room called “The Brendan Behan Room” here in a small B&B in Tralee. Jaysis, if that’s not a sign to get writing for Sober Paddy again, then I’m a giant fairy unicorn strapped to a fading Universe.

Driving down here from Dublin last night was glorious. The sky turned from pastel pink to peachy make-up orange. Distant jets etch-a-sketched the atmosphere. The moon was there suddenly. Tonight it decided to go with a crescent little number; an Arabian theme perhaps?

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Glendalough and the Dubs

Yesterday I brought my nephew to Glendalough. As we walked inside the grounds, I heard the sound of a tin whistle blowing some enchanting, ephemeral tune. My heart quickened. It called to my DNA, to something ancient and Celtic in me that I have long forgotten to think about. I was not alone in hearing it.

Chunky tourists slung their fancy cameras round their shoulders and hobbled all pied pipered like towards the noise. Others shuffled under the shadows of the round tower, incapable of moving as they took selfie after selfie on their shiny phones. The wind blew the clouds above at a frantic pace. The sun glared. The tall trees groaned.

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Interview with Irish Poet & Playwright Stephen James Smith

Delighted to say I got to sit down with Stephen James Smith and chat about poetry, Dublin, life and the drink. It is humbling to sit and shoot the breeze with a man whose star is shining bright right now. Have a look and listen when you get the chance and let me know what …

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