Thursday, September 25, 2003
Killarney, Co. Kerry
Tuesday, September 25 [1973]
So I'm starting again. Killarney Youth Hostel, Co. Kerry. Shepley has left us for Germany (details later).
Today wasn't so good. It seems that the off-days always turn me to writing. I felt depressed (not severely), disoriented; a "what-the-hell-am-I-doing-in-(blank -- your choice) mood).
It is now night in the mountain-lake country here. Can't see the cloudy, rocky mountains now.
I felt today, to be perfectly honest, like going home. Because, if nothing else, I'd know where I was (physically). I felt better tonight, more hopeful and more settled, more confident. Maybe I can elaborate later. Going on ...
We hired bikes today, rode out to the " 'istoric gap o' Doonloe," through Killarney (what a groovy place, man, Wimpy's and everything), out to a ruined abbey (Muckross,) and back to the hostel.
The man theme of today was: "Spend, much, and anywhere, for anything." This is an expensive town, and you don't get much for your money. What other interesting things can I say? Well, Boise is the capital of Idaho, Springfield is the capital of Illinois ... Going on, we find that the last emperor of the Roman Empire was a twelve-year-old boy, deposed in 476, the threshold of the dark ages ... it has started to rain in Killarney, Co. Kerry, Ireland.
Shepley left with a Carolinian yesterday, en route to Oktoberfest. I'm sorry to see him go, for a good number of reasons.
It seems like it puts the whole scheme of things back to Shannon Airport (details later). He was the real spur of the trip (in its formative stages, at least).
He seemed to offer Gerry and I a strong sense of comic relief (not meant negatively) as well as one of perspective. Shepley could make us see what direction we were going, I think. So we will have to be a little sharper, I guess, to see what the physical and mental drift of events is.
Ah, yes.
Well, he had it in his mind to go to Muenchen for Oktoberfest ever since he visited his brother earlier in the month. I said I didn't want to go 1) because I didn't have the money. Good reason.
Two things happened which affected this situation:
1) Shep found he didn't have as much mney as he thought he had, and, although we didn't discuss it, I thought, "das Ende des Oktoberfest Idee." [I apparently meant to say "that's the end of the Oktoberfest idea." I didn't realize at the time I knew only pidgin German.]
2) Gerry came into the merry company, and this made it possible, as events have shown, for Dan to take off, enough money or not.
So Friday night, Gerry and Dan met a couple of Americans at Wimpy's in Tralee. Joe Thomason of Greenville, North Carolina, and Nick Perkins of Arlington, Virginia. And I came along later (we had split up while hitching from Limerick) and met them at the Old Brogue Inn (the Irishization of R and B).
Joe and Nick have been over a couple of weeks and were in London, and were just in Eire for a little while before going to Deutschland. Jawohl. They mentioned this, and I can visualize the look in Shepley's eyes, "eins, zwei, Zuppe!" [I was referring to some drinking song I heard. The closest reference I find on the Web is "eins, zwei, g'suffa!"] Good-bye, Dan. From that moment on he had Rheinwein on his mind; "I'm gone to Oberbayern in my mind..."
So he and Joe started from Dingle yesterday, on their way to Rosslaire, Fishguard, London, Munich.
Ever onward and upward ...
We landed in Shannon last Thursday (did you know that everything is green in Ireland: Why do they call it the ...). Customs; how long are you staying. Thirty days? No. Sixty days? Sixty days, surely? I'll give you a sixty day visa. LOnger? Well we don't want you working in Ireland. Everything is very dear here, almost as dear as New York (shit, this pen doesn't write very well); do you have contacts? Well, ninety days then -- after that you have to register with the police. 85,000 unemployed here already. "... holder agrees not to enter into employment," just like going into the states, then. Ninety days, you'll be home for Christmas then."
Hitching into Limerick (Luimneach) on the River Shannon. Big town (50,000), dirty, crowded; tired, wandering aimlessly; workng men and teen-agers staring; tired, tired.
Dan, Gerry, and myself went to te Bord Failte officeand they gave us the name and address of a bed and breakfast place (Mrs. O'Toole's, ah, wonderful). Went there and slept six hours; walked around town indecisively for about an hour and then went to the hot spot of downtown Limerick, "the Brazen Head." Where we heard some of the worst music it has even been my misfortune to cringe to (standard Irish city-life off-key country rhythm rock and blues jingle-clang trash). We laughed a lot and drank a couple of Guinnesses (would G.E. say Guineii?).
A good Irish breakfast (which I will no doubt later describe, so keep reading until you come to that point), and then to Tralee via hoof (15 miles) and thumb. I met a couple of interesting people.
An Irish descendant from the Normans, driving a Renault (that's how I knew he was a Norman) who drove me from Askeaton to Tarbert, and filled my ears with a little bit of local history and current events, as well as some meaningful trivia ... he could trace his family back to 1170, Columbus.
Then in Listowel I met a hitch-hiker from Dublin who said, "and a good spot to drink in Tralee is the Old Brogue, see you there." And later, when I did get there, and Shepley, Valenti, Thomason, and Perkins were there, I did meet this guy; we bought a few rounds.
He turns out to be a medical student from Trinity and Dublin and said, "... and when you get to Dublin, I should hope to put you up." Peter O'Dwyer, remember that name. See you in Dublin.
And I'll close for tonight. I guess that I'm writing now 1) to, uh, let's see, catch up on events here and 2) well, you know, I don't know, well, to purge myself of the guilt feeling I have from not writing, and 3) to get the good feeling that results from putting myself on my ass and writing. Good night.
Tuesday, September 25 [1973]
So I'm starting again. Killarney Youth Hostel, Co. Kerry. Shepley has left us for Germany (details later).
Today wasn't so good. It seems that the off-days always turn me to writing. I felt depressed (not severely), disoriented; a "what-the-hell-am-I-doing-in-(blank -- your choice) mood).
It is now night in the mountain-lake country here. Can't see the cloudy, rocky mountains now.
I felt today, to be perfectly honest, like going home. Because, if nothing else, I'd know where I was (physically). I felt better tonight, more hopeful and more settled, more confident. Maybe I can elaborate later. Going on ...
We hired bikes today, rode out to the " 'istoric gap o' Doonloe," through Killarney (what a groovy place, man, Wimpy's and everything), out to a ruined abbey (Muckross,) and back to the hostel.
The man theme of today was: "Spend, much, and anywhere, for anything." This is an expensive town, and you don't get much for your money. What other interesting things can I say? Well, Boise is the capital of Idaho, Springfield is the capital of Illinois ... Going on, we find that the last emperor of the Roman Empire was a twelve-year-old boy, deposed in 476, the threshold of the dark ages ... it has started to rain in Killarney, Co. Kerry, Ireland.
Shepley left with a Carolinian yesterday, en route to Oktoberfest. I'm sorry to see him go, for a good number of reasons.
It seems like it puts the whole scheme of things back to Shannon Airport (details later). He was the real spur of the trip (in its formative stages, at least).
He seemed to offer Gerry and I a strong sense of comic relief (not meant negatively) as well as one of perspective. Shepley could make us see what direction we were going, I think. So we will have to be a little sharper, I guess, to see what the physical and mental drift of events is.
Ah, yes.
Well, he had it in his mind to go to Muenchen for Oktoberfest ever since he visited his brother earlier in the month. I said I didn't want to go 1) because I didn't have the money. Good reason.
Two things happened which affected this situation:
1) Shep found he didn't have as much mney as he thought he had, and, although we didn't discuss it, I thought, "das Ende des Oktoberfest Idee." [I apparently meant to say "that's the end of the Oktoberfest idea." I didn't realize at the time I knew only pidgin German.]
2) Gerry came into the merry company, and this made it possible, as events have shown, for Dan to take off, enough money or not.
So Friday night, Gerry and Dan met a couple of Americans at Wimpy's in Tralee. Joe Thomason of Greenville, North Carolina, and Nick Perkins of Arlington, Virginia. And I came along later (we had split up while hitching from Limerick) and met them at the Old Brogue Inn (the Irishization of R and B).
Joe and Nick have been over a couple of weeks and were in London, and were just in Eire for a little while before going to Deutschland. Jawohl. They mentioned this, and I can visualize the look in Shepley's eyes, "eins, zwei, Zuppe!" [I was referring to some drinking song I heard. The closest reference I find on the Web is "eins, zwei, g'suffa!"] Good-bye, Dan. From that moment on he had Rheinwein on his mind; "I'm gone to Oberbayern in my mind..."
So he and Joe started from Dingle yesterday, on their way to Rosslaire, Fishguard, London, Munich.
Ever onward and upward ...
We landed in Shannon last Thursday (did you know that everything is green in Ireland: Why do they call it the ...). Customs; how long are you staying. Thirty days? No. Sixty days? Sixty days, surely? I'll give you a sixty day visa. LOnger? Well we don't want you working in Ireland. Everything is very dear here, almost as dear as New York (shit, this pen doesn't write very well); do you have contacts? Well, ninety days then -- after that you have to register with the police. 85,000 unemployed here already. "... holder agrees not to enter into employment," just like going into the states, then. Ninety days, you'll be home for Christmas then."
Hitching into Limerick (Luimneach) on the River Shannon. Big town (50,000), dirty, crowded; tired, wandering aimlessly; workng men and teen-agers staring; tired, tired.
Dan, Gerry, and myself went to te Bord Failte officeand they gave us the name and address of a bed and breakfast place (Mrs. O'Toole's, ah, wonderful). Went there and slept six hours; walked around town indecisively for about an hour and then went to the hot spot of downtown Limerick, "the Brazen Head." Where we heard some of the worst music it has even been my misfortune to cringe to (standard Irish city-life off-key country rhythm rock and blues jingle-clang trash). We laughed a lot and drank a couple of Guinnesses (would G.E. say Guineii?).
A good Irish breakfast (which I will no doubt later describe, so keep reading until you come to that point), and then to Tralee via hoof (15 miles) and thumb. I met a couple of interesting people.
An Irish descendant from the Normans, driving a Renault (that's how I knew he was a Norman) who drove me from Askeaton to Tarbert, and filled my ears with a little bit of local history and current events, as well as some meaningful trivia ... he could trace his family back to 1170, Columbus.
Then in Listowel I met a hitch-hiker from Dublin who said, "and a good spot to drink in Tralee is the Old Brogue, see you there." And later, when I did get there, and Shepley, Valenti, Thomason, and Perkins were there, I did meet this guy; we bought a few rounds.
He turns out to be a medical student from Trinity and Dublin and said, "... and when you get to Dublin, I should hope to put you up." Peter O'Dwyer, remember that name. See you in Dublin.
And I'll close for tonight. I guess that I'm writing now 1) to, uh, let's see, catch up on events here and 2) well, you know, I don't know, well, to purge myself of the guilt feeling I have from not writing, and 3) to get the good feeling that results from putting myself on my ass and writing. Good night.
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
Sunday
[September 23, 1973]
Damn, I haven't written in a long time. I still have, all things considered, probably written more this year than I ever have (which is not saying very much).
We have been in this country four days now -- I'm not sure what to say yet -- I am still not completely out of the United States (not that I ever will be, necessarily), although the fact that you are in another country is immediately obvious.
For instance ... Shannon Airport. You are passing over livestock and farms right to the runway's edge. The country around the airport is still generally very rural, not the steel and concrete vision of almost every American airport.
The people ... The first thing I noticed was something I don't [entry in black ink stops and picks up on the same line in blue ink] ... and yes, it's suddenly Monday and I think I should start again, and I will.
[September 23, 1973]
Damn, I haven't written in a long time. I still have, all things considered, probably written more this year than I ever have (which is not saying very much).
We have been in this country four days now -- I'm not sure what to say yet -- I am still not completely out of the United States (not that I ever will be, necessarily), although the fact that you are in another country is immediately obvious.
For instance ... Shannon Airport. You are passing over livestock and farms right to the runway's edge. The country around the airport is still generally very rural, not the steel and concrete vision of almost every American airport.
The people ... The first thing I noticed was something I don't [entry in black ink stops and picks up on the same line in blue ink] ... and yes, it's suddenly Monday and I think I should start again, and I will.
Monday, September 22, 2003
Saturday, Sept. 22 [1973]
Dingle, Co. Kerry
Well, yes ... The third day in Ireland. How are things going.
Yes, well ...
Flew into Shannon with a lot of room to spare; a hangover, is what I mean.
I enjoy flying. The power of the takeoff is surprising, very exciting. Coming out of O'Hare, the jet had to make a very tight turn at full power just off the end of the runway. To see the ground rapidly drawing away gave me an almost giddy sensation (I was cheering and clapping my hands). It was, (a note here: Shepley and Valenti are discussing why I write late at night, "... definitely a case of displaced sexual tension ...," screw you, Gerry Lee, baby) it was tremendous (better word, please?) to see the ground climb away off the end of the wing.
I guess Shepley and Valenti want me to go to sleep now, which means I should turn off the lights and stop writing, which I'll do. I wanted to put something down, I guess, to get started, and I have.
Dingle, Co. Kerry
Well, yes ... The third day in Ireland. How are things going.
Yes, well ...
Flew into Shannon with a lot of room to spare; a hangover, is what I mean.
I enjoy flying. The power of the takeoff is surprising, very exciting. Coming out of O'Hare, the jet had to make a very tight turn at full power just off the end of the runway. To see the ground rapidly drawing away gave me an almost giddy sensation (I was cheering and clapping my hands). It was, (a note here: Shepley and Valenti are discussing why I write late at night, "... definitely a case of displaced sexual tension ...," screw you, Gerry Lee, baby) it was tremendous (better word, please?) to see the ground climb away off the end of the wing.
I guess Shepley and Valenti want me to go to sleep now, which means I should turn off the lights and stop writing, which I'll do. I wanted to put something down, I guess, to get started, and I have.
