Now, I'm pretty sure Pat Ingoldsby is not a WMD waving megalomaniac who requires look-a-likes parading around Dublin just in case an elite division of the US rangers decides to launch a Scud shot at him from Supermacs, but the fact still remains: I saw him at two places at once today. It was early, I was sober and the only Damp Coke I'd taken was from a 500ml contour bottle, so I can only surmise that I had travelled through space and time, again.
A number of years ago, I was sitting on the 49 and passed by a bus stop with a couple of very noticeable people waiting at it. After continuing on this journey, for a number of minutes, I looked out the window again and saw that we were passing by the same spot as I had done moments earlier, with the same people. None of my friends believed me, but then again, they also didn't when I told them that Papa Disgrace directed E.T and that the cameras were in our Barna Shed.
Seeing the two Pats today, and by the way, he wasn't just wandering around, he was sitting down selling his books on Westmoreland Street and on Grafton Street, made me wish I really did have a time machine. If I did, I would use it, not to go back and fix things, but to fly as far away from this year as possible. 2017 looks good from here.
I suppose, so many things have gone wrong for me this year, that I am literally starting the next with a completely blank slate. I have no more girlfriend to lose. No more cats to lose custody of. No more money to piss against an ATM. In fact, what I do have right now, would be well worth losing. A 'murder hotel' chic 1 bed apartment in a house that looks like a before picture from a fire safety ad and a job where I'm literally obliged to leave my brain and personality at the front door and a debt that would have Bono and Geldof marching the streets for. I have Pasta though.
And here I am at Christmas. Tired, emotional and very sick of drink. It's an immovable object, that everyone must face. A time for spending. It's an imaginary hurdle that everyone bookmarks. They get the new sofa in 'for the Christmas'. They give the walls a 'lick of paint'. But it's also a very physical thing. It's there. The world stops spinning for one day, but everyone is preparing their festive bunkers for weeks in advance. And then they bed down, lock the hatch and pull a cracker.
Being on the other side can be pretty cold
Many a loyal reader has journeyed with me through 2007, and I'd like to thank them for being there.
Don't forget to turn off the lights
Disgrace
