It has been a while. I’ve been in California, then off building chicken coops and such, but now here I am. Let’s pick up where we left off, shall we? xx
Simon and I have started a new music project with our friends Biddy and Aoife. We’ve only posted one song so far, but there is more to come! Check us out:
We’re too cool for facebook. xx
Tryfi made a quick trip to co. Leitrim last night for the Ballinamore Free Fringe Festival. We borrowed Sir Dooley’s caravan for the occasion. Bids, Kev, Ganter, Brona, Simon, and myself piled in around 5 pm and headed north. It was an uneventful trip, filled mostly with gummy worms and conversation. Brona busied herself with a quilt she’d found in her attic recently. Gorgeous thing. Anyway, we arrived in Ballinamore around 7- just enough time for da boys to set up and dress up.
There weren’t many people about. It was a fringe festival after all- the closing weekend of a week long town party. Even so- it was a nice gig. I’ve never seen them tighter. I’ve loved the band since first meeting Simon, and I’ve been to every gig since arriving in Ireland. They’ve had many great sessions, but last night was one of the best.
After the gig we had a meal provided by the organizers, then mosied back to the camper for a bit of drink. We sang some songs (Wind
screen shield Wiper Blues- folk rendition), drank some cans, told stories, then went back out for a wander.
Ballinamore is a cosy town, filled with good vibes and friendly people. We walked the length of it, popping in to pubs here and there. There were loads of other festival goers about (well- mostly musicians from the other bands), and we made a friend or two. They told us to come back to Mcgirls for a German band’s set where apparently juice would be made onstage. We obliged, and ended up walking up an alleyway, through the back part of the pub, and finally to an old shed.
This ‘shed’ was by far the coolest thing I’ve seen in Ireland. No. Really. The absolute cat’s meow. I was beyond pleased when we walked in. A low ceiling, fairy lights strung about, random bits of art here and there. Not to mention the crowd- everything from hipsters to old men in tweed suits. I took a few photos, but I was more interested in living it than documenting it.
We caught the last few songs of a metal band- can’t recall the name. We danced, shook, shimmied, all that. I got to know our new friends a bit better. They were a band as well- Mandoll. We chatted, they flirted, I took the bait, and it was all around a grand ol’ time.
Finally the juice makers (Qwqwi) took the stage. Or rather, they wheeled out a huge contraption into the middle of the floor. I had left the camera back at the camper van, so you’ll just have to use your imagination. It was a rectangular table on wheels, about the size of a door. The entire surface was covered in wires, pedals, a chaos pad, and the like. They spent several minutes plugging things in, switching switches, pushing buttons, etc. When this was complete the pretty blond girl blew a whistle to get our attention. Each of the four members started chopping fruit, and tossing it into a bowl. Then the music began. We didn’t stay for too long- it was 2 am and we’re ancient. I’d also had a bit of wine and plenty of cider by then. We left Kev and Bids to the hipsters and headed off to bed. We missed the juice. Sigh.
This morning we all woke up a bit sore, but happy. We found a pub where we could get a fry, indulged in the 10,000 calories of an Irish breakfast, then headed back to the van. On the way we passed my hipster boyfriends from the night before. Kev chatted them up, and teased Simon over it. Finally, we all piled right back into the caravan and rolled south. Biddy brought out the guitar, and regaled us with tune after tune. He is our jukebox. We all sang along happily until we pulled into the farm yard.
Right, so. The end!
«Je vous construirai une ville avec des loques, moi !
Je vous construirai sans plan et sans ciment
Un édifice que vous ne détruirez pas,
Et qu’une espèce d’évidence écumante
Soutiendra et gonflera, qui viendra vous braire au nez,
Et au nez gelé de tous vos Parthénons, vos arts arabes, et de vos Mings.
Avec de la fumée, avec de la dilution de brouillard
Et du son de peau de tambour,
Je vous assoirai des forteresses écrasantes et superbes,
Des forteresses faites exclusivement de remous et de secousses,
Contre lesquelles votre ordre multimillénaire et votre géométrie
Tomberont en fadaises et galimatias et poussière de sable sans raison.
Glas ! Glas ! Glas sur vous tous, néant sur les vivants !
Oui, je crois en Dieu ! Certes, il n’en sait rien !
Foi, semelle inusable pour qui n’avance pas.
Oh monde, monde étranglé, ventre froid !
Même pas symbole, mais néant, je contre, je contre,
Je contre et te gave de chiens crevés.
En tonnes, vous m’entendez, en tonnes, je vous arracherai ce que vous m’avez refusé en grammes.
Le venin du serpent est son fidèle compagnon,
Fidèle, et il l’estime à sa juste valeur.
Frères, mes frères damnés, suivez-moi avec confiance.
Les dents du loup ne lâchent pas le loup.
C’est la chair du mouton qui lâche.
Dans le noir nous verrons clair, mes frères.
Dans le labyrinthe nous trouverons la voie droite.
Carcasse, où est ta place ici, gêneuse, pisseuse, pot cassé?
Poulie gémissante, comme tu vas sentir les cordages tendus des quatre mondes !
Comme je vais t’écarteler !»
I sat down beside a man in a red shirt today. 14 line bus stop downtown, as usual. He asked me where I’m from, and I said here. He says no, no, you’re white, where are you from? I told him I’m only part white, and what does it matter anyway? I am part osage too. I said so. He didn’t know much about it. Asked me what a native american is, and I said the people here before the white people. He asked me how people got here. I said deep ocean vents maybe. Evolution. All that. Started out real simple, like a fetus does, one cell, multiplies, and before long there are complex lifeforms. He liked that.
When we boarded, he asked me if I thought God was a man. An old man. I said nah, I don’t believe in any such thing. Besides, if there was a creator who crafted this earth, then man would not have his favor. I started down a preachy path of anti all things civilized, when he interrupted to ask if I thought God might be experiences. He said, maybe God is every experience we have, all the moments added up. I said, well what happens if you live your whole life right up to 60, then hit your head real hard and forget everything. He says, well that is an experience.
“Oh I’ve got to get off here… I’m Donny.”
Then he was out the door and gone.