The Queen's Birthday

I read somewhere the other day that they did experiments on fish one time, where they got the fish drunk, and then taught them how to swim through a maze. The fish could never remember how to do it again when they were sober. Anytime they were taken out for experimentation purposes, however, they could always perform.

I thought that was hilarious.

I use commas too much. I need to figure commas out sometime.

I wonder did Declan Lynch put that in his book about how we are all immature. And that’s why we drink.

The fish thing, I mean.

I’m listening to John Connolly’s Compilation ©

I’m not going to type the playlist out again.

I feel like I’m in Ireland.

In a certain sense. I can feel its presence again. That’s really important to me, but it irritates the shit out of me at the same time.

I saw Cecilia Ahern’s book in the airport the other day. I pointed it out to Himself. And said she was the daughter of the Irish Prime Minister. And then we turned away to go to the gate but just as we did a woman who had been listening to us stepped over and took the book up. Turned it over and looked at the photograph. And then she looked at me.

They’re very suspicious over here. They don’t like change. And now they have to make a decision. It should be interesting.

I only used one comma in all that. I think it works.

The Compilation © is very slow. And quiet. I would never choose this kind of music but I always enjoy it when it is handed to me.

The fish are very active again all of a sudden. I wonder why. They have a really short biorhythm. It happens several times a day as far as I can make out. That’s probably why they don’t get bored.

You can tell I’m really busy these days.

The scary thing is, I feel really busy. I don’t think I could ever ramp back up to Queenie pre-Canada speed. And I don’t want to. I just worry that some day I might want to and then it will be too late.

I think I might be immature. I should give up whatever it is I’m addicted to and write a book about it, shouldn’t I.

Nah.

The journey is too important to stop for that long.

Besides, I still don’t know what it is.

I just went back and redid the commas and I think it works now.

Anyways, maybe it’s not about me. Maybe it’s about someone else.

But everyone always says that is wrong.

I don’t know. It is. But why should I be expected to cure myself. By myself. Why do some people have to travel alone? And why do some people have to travel with someone, or anyone, or everyone? Why do they get to be cured by society?

I bet that’s what they ask. Those kids like Joey that we leave behind in our scramble for whatever it is we think will get us on tv. Or the radio. Or in a book. Or in a newspaper.

Blog. Podcast. My Place.

It’s fucking relentless.

I’m sitting in a room in Canada. Getting ready for work in the morning. And I’m listening to a Podcast from the Guardian in London. The original of which I downloaded in work once and brought home.

And now the fucking thing is sending me weekly instalments.

HOW THE FUCK DOES IT DO THAT?

THIS IS STARTING TO GET SCARY NOW.

And these guys, who work in the same company as my brother, are sitting around talking about Tony Prince of Darkness O’Reilly and Denis Fucking Twat O’Brien, who are apparently doing a typical Irish feud stunt, to get in the fucking papers, which they own, for Chrissakes, and the paper they’re fighting over is the Independent, which nobody buys anymore because it’s full of boring Trots,

SO WHO GIVES A SHIT?

The Guardian evidently.

Otherwise it wouldn’t be sending me owls about it.

Newspapers are dying. They’re closing down the pulp mills here, because they still make newsprint when they should be making digital photo paper.

I am devastated. They’re starting to cut back on energy, and they’re starting by taking away all the biodegradable things. So all that will be left is the stuff from China.

Why are we doing this? Why? If someone could give me a good enough assurance that they had a plan for it, maybe I could stop thinking about it. But nobody can. It’s too big for one person or one company to handle. Or even one country.

It’s landmass against landmass now dudes, and I’m on a big island. Well, the biggest island in the world when the polar icecaps melt.

And we’ll be in charge of the northern border.

It will be elemental.

It will be cold.

We will get video podcasts from Hollywood, where it is always warm, and people are always happy. Because we are helping them to survive.

Fuck them. I want newspapers.

And I have all the trees.

We’ll be fighting over trees eventually, I suppose. And we’ll all have to wear gas masks.

This is what I think about when I am alone by the way.

It’s scary isn’t it.

What will Ireland be doing?

Surviving of course. Bleeding some colonial power dry no doubt, the only question is which one.

It’s so different over here. There’s a real sense of duty with regard to the rest of the world. Which the government manipulates in order to be the yankee slut. Which annoys the crap out of the average Canadian. And there's lots of them dying out in Afghanistan. They get very little coverage in Ireland or the UK. And yet we all celebrated the Queen’s birthday over the last two days. A Nova Scotian couple was invited over to the party and all the ceremonies were on the news.

They said that she had made a bold statement about the environment recently. I thought that was very interesting. Apparently, she took Tony Blair aside at one of their meetings, so the courtiers wouldn’t leak it to the press, and told him to be careful of George Bush.

I’d love to have seen his face when she did that.

I wonder how I found out.

I should post this.