Well… it’s been one hell of a week. Now where to start? At the beginning? At the end? In media res, as all epic poems are written? Should I just jump back and forth with no rhyme or reason? Oh, how life is filled with such questions and yet the answers seem to be so elusive. But since I am not one for giving up, I shall forge ahead. After of course, I invoke my muse.
So sing to me, O Muse, of the young man walking down the street with a mace in his hand and a song in his heart. Tell me of how he came to be and where he may go and what he may see. Show me what this boy thinks and what lies within his heart.
The people gave me funny looks. Some smiled, some wore looks of concern, but I can tell you that everyone notices when someone walks down the street with a giant stick slung over their shoulder and a cigarette in their mouth. I can’t lie, I enjoyed the attention. I would wish every bar I passed a happy St. Patrick’s Day and offered everyone a smile. I suppose the least I could do is share my joy.
This whole week had been quite eventful. I got some time at home to rest my mind and escape to the nothingness that lies in this place. In fact, I was talking with a good friend about this. You don’t appreciate the place you grew up in until you leave. Now I’m not saying that I want to live up here again, because I don’t, but what I am saying is that it is nice to be able to lie down in the grass and enjoy a cigarette as you gaze at the stars and ponder your thoughts.
But I only spent two days as an astronomer, then made the trip to New Rochelle on Wednesday, to drink, and then to Bay Ridge, to smoke and at midnight, had a few Guinness to ring in the holiday properly. I bummed it out on my friend’s couch and woke up early for Brooklyn breakfast, which was for me, that’s right you guessed, Guinness and soda bread. Happy St. Patrick’s Day kids.
And off we went, Mr. Hanko and I, to the city of New York on the only day that it is acceptable for a man to wear a skirt with no underwear underneath. On our way, I saw people from high school and a kid who called Kyle’s bagpipes a French Horn. But we got where we needed to go, and after waiting for I don’t know how long, we were off. It was great. All the Bay Ridge kids chanted “smoke that piff” as I passed and I tried not to laugh with little success. All in all a great day.
Then you do what every man in a kilt does on such a day, you drink… a lot. And for not a lot of money, which was nice. So from bar to bar we went, and the band started to become smaller until it was time to go to Bay Ridge, where after a great train ride discussing life with a 4 year old girl, I got even drunker and eventually passed out at the bar. I was woken up… sort of, and was given a couch and some underpants by the one, the only, the great Sean Greany. I woke the next day to find that I wasn’t sure where I was for some time. Had some coffee and a cigarette and then I was off to my Brooklyn day, which included finding my mace and jacket that I had left in the bar, for whatever reason. Luckily I found them because they were all borrowed, and played some nice songs with good people.
But Spring time is in the air, and it fills me with this feeling. I think it’s the season that I fall in love with. If spring were a woman, I’d spend every waking moment trying to win her heart and make her mine. But as with all other girls that have been in my life, she will fall away. Still, I know she will return, so until then I wait.
And since I’m waiting all this time, I could get a few things done. Get my grades up, maybe work on some lines, maybe write another song, maybe do some stand up, maybe write some things. All things that I have to do, so I might as well milk this feeling and get some productivity out of it. Or I could waste it. Either way, I know that my life unfolds as it should because if it doesn’t, what the hell is the point? Things happen, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I don’t know what my life holds for me. But, I can tell you this, I can make certain things happen. Not everything, but there are those things that if I want, I can have. If I want to be something, I can be. Or maybe that’s just fate too. Maybe fate will align with all of my desires. Or maybe it won’t. But I will try. I can’t not.