For the past week I have had the troubling sensation of feeling there is a hair in my mouth. Curled around my lip and into the cavernous vortex of my gob, a rogue follicle is rakishly entangling itself in my food until the moment of mastication when it detaches, like a lover who's just heard… Continue reading Groundhog Daze: Mary, Mary, surprisingly hairy, how does your moustache grow?
You know that Tame Impala song, "feels like we only go backwards"? Well, word on the deserted city streets is Tony Holohan has started a secret petition to make it our new anthem-elect until 2047 when all of this shite ends and we remember what it is to shake hands and walk up to a… Continue reading Groundhog Daze: Blah like Enda Kenny
Another one from the archives. Or, more accurately, the multitudinous, multi-faceted ether of my iPhone notes. Does it surprise you that it's always been my dream to work at the UN? If it does then I've been highly misleading in these diaries. Well, dearest reader, that dream almost came true for me the other night… Continue reading Day 43: “Hey, u up?” and other things I’ve emailed the UN at 2am
I'm back in Dublin. After over three months spent in complete isolation in Cork, where the only people I have spoken to outside my family are siblings' other halves, two family friends and the lovely cashiers in my three trips to Ireland's best, prize-winning Supervaloo, I am back once more in the cacophonic breach, floating… Continue reading Day 39: Keeping an anti-social distance from “normality”
Pros of lockdown: No longer having that feeling, as you fall asleep celibate and alone, that every other twenty-something is out there having passionate sex with all and sundry. Cons of lockdown: Falling asleep, celibate and alone. Pros of lockdown: Sisters being legally prevented from seeing their boyfriends and love interests, making them seem every… Continue reading Day 18: She sleeps alone.
Allow me to set the scene. I don't believe I've done that before. What a terrible narrator I am. It is 20:51, I sit alone at my desk in the activewear I've been wearing since what feels like 2003 but is really just whatever day I arrived home, hungover - god, remember hangovers?! - to… Continue reading Day 6: Thursdays are for solo candlelit dinners and flirtations with classical music
And so I thought – in the truly despicable scourge of individualism and selfie-taking that have instilled in us a brazen entitlement to think that every mealtime, every fleeting synonym for a thought is worthy of comment I decided that now was a truly fantastic time for percolation (me) to meet isolation (all of ye) and inspire a creation.