A few years ago on the Eve of Christmas eve I posted (to Bebo of all places) a short Calvin & Harris comic strip that represents what Christmas has become for me now I'm not fussed about presents.
My grandfather had a phrase of "ná tosaigh nós agus ná bris nós" - Don't start a tradition and don't break one.
Well its too late now, a tradition has started.
For each of you I have a small Festive gift. This is not a compilation of Christmas songs nor is it the "best of" for 2011. The tracks are not all from 2011 but each of these songs showed up on my radar this year or assumed some new worth.
So to all of you traveling home to spend time at home, and those of you at home already for Christmas download the file and open the .3mu file and the playlist should play nicely in iTunes.
For an immediate dose of vitamin Christmas have a look at this. (yes its sappy, but its great).
I'm currently staring at the sea ona cold December night in Dingle, thinking forbidden thoughts.
Friday, October 21, 2011
This can never be loud enough.
An old friend of mine and I used to listen to this on the steps of my apartment in college. Conversations were befuddled and ambitious. Though I never quite remember them, there was an innocent triumphalism in them.
Life took a turn last week and I quit my job. I proved myself right in a stance I should have held with regards to trust.
I've spent the last week poisoning myself and my mind. I need to avoid doing that.
I just don't know. I hope what happened was an accident.
I am painfully aware of how this all sounds, but it is cathartic nonetheless.
7 for 7 as a record at the beginning, now 8 for 8. Carefully calculated brewing, tetris packing a car and the final sleep in a bed. It has been a long year, a short journey and a short way home. Noticeably quieter on the approach and chaff underwheel. The first faint sight of the potential to come. A dolly, two wristbands, a buggy laden. A short walk made longer by broken boxes and split crates. Bear traps and traditional sandwiches and "Foster", "no not foster". New faces, new souls, new names, new places. Horror and mischief in equal mixes. Sunburnny weather, not the R word, Spacecake Sam, A totem pole. Facial hair and mobile internet. "eh why?" A wander in wonder, some boys who will become great, an infectious tune and aftersinging, to the arena and getting lost in a place where we all are, first pints, first snoozes, the same familiar faces. A home away from it all where everything is free. Cheeky sneakin', classic shufflin', elephant head nonsense. Nonsense anniversary-ed, phones go free, "ALAN!" (FUCK OFF!), trees and bright lights, fallen trees and soft ones, a circus act, the breakfast club, molly ringwald as a verb, an unexpected moment of sheer rap genius, one year later same old story, acrobats and twisting. "Honestly the last song on my ipod".A solid slap to sensitives, and a bit of a dance at a ship. "EVERYBODY NEEDS TO BE AWAKE NOW!", dr? dr! Dr? Dr! DR? DR! "Steve!" (FUCK OFF!), back aboard ship, familiar faces and moves like a certain rolling stones. X marked the spot, reunited and redeemed the clock keeps ticking, and a restless soul find solace in the dale at the heart of the festival. Stupid Mufasa. Bass fails, and a voice dripping with grandeur is lost on a big stage,did anyone say pie? the stalk begins as closer and closer we step. A cinema entrance and a triumphant return. A new tambourine that was never going to be anyone else's. Superfans and butterflies turn tail and flee. A little bit of penguinning. One last top up and 90 minutes of blockrockin' beats that pass in a heartbeat. Declared complications. "I believe in the Picnic". To the Ship! and onwards to the last unresting place, souls fall and some battle on. Quietly and surely sleep is snatched only to be shaken off as soon as possible. More DR! and ignoring. Anyone seen Adam? "but why?" Bounce alive to the danger, a search for an old friend who seems to have vanished.Sleeping lions. Repetition of a recipe. Reflections on his absence and a sun drenched afternoon. Hearting of many things as the first goodbyes draw near. a dark beat in the night, a breeze that feels like liquid, a moment, a derailment, a darkness descending with a smash. An ass kicking while chasing the feeling, a mental exercise in restoring control, apologetic idiocy, two bystanders caring unbidden, held together by the fabric of something that is simply there. The common people, the last show on earth. A friend indeed. To the flame shows and the circus. The ebb of the end, and spinning to sleep. Rising in damp, to tear apart our narrow existence, the feeling continues but the temple is closing. Stumbling home, the real world reclaims us but not before one last blast of our dreams coming true.
Part of this weekend never dies. This place tortures my body and is good for my mind, and soothes my soul. Some of the world's best people were missed this year, and several new souls will return again next year. The fight starts now to maintain this feeling. I have my ideas.
Alliteration aside, it is September soon. I have time off as of Wednesday and my favourite festival happens next weekend. I still can't help think what could have been.
Ships, night, passing. blah blah blah. Ignore the images, this song though is still one of those songs.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
After a cracking weekend, some nonsense, some epic conversations with new people, old friends and new I am looking forward to this week.
What sticks with me is that as the weather turns bright and Dublin takes on the air of a city with a pulse the evenings grow longer and festivals aren't too far away.
Plus, if didn't already know, Ireland play best when you put a white shirt in front of them.
There are a few songs that I banned myself from actively selecting a few years ago.
I never want to let them be overplayed. It means that when they come on shuffle, or the radio or in a pub or at a gig I react like a teenager. I am ok with that,in fact I relish it.
Tonight amongst the 46000 tracks on my big ipod all three occurred in immediate sucession.
I've always had a weird thing about sacrifice. I always hope that if the occasion arose I wouldn't think about it, just do the right thing. The notion is not as old fashioned as some would have you believe.
This guy was 13 and he saved his little brother's life.
Christmas is an odd time. I am going back to work tomorrow, for how long I do not know. Itchy feet and a fast spinning mind that seems to want more space. It may be time to move. I have no nicotine in my system and its not going back in.
I move in to my new house tomorrow as well, a quieter house that should aid the next few decisions.
An odd few days have passed, where I was reminded of a different version of myself, one more carefree with myself and other people.
Do not watch "This is England '86" all in one go, late at night when you cannot sleep. Memories and semi-lucidity do not go well with the imagery.
I am not sure whether its time to blow the roof off, or walk away.
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