Some days

I have translated two new things that I recited at Open mic night at Mc Manus yesterday.
A great night. Thank you everybody.
Here is the first one. It's called
Some days

Some days

Some days I think about giving up all my dreams and do everything just to live a normal life. Try to find a job which pays the average salary. Meet a girl that is so totally normal that she is almost grey in the face. Take a mortgage, buy a house, have two kids , a boy and a girl.

Then I am only gonna spend time with my coworkers and neighbours who live almost exactly the same life as me.

Discuss the house market and the x factor when I have a barbecue with the neighbours on a Saturday afternoon. Only read crime novels. Pay taxes, be angry at people on the dole, vote for Fine Gael. Tell my kids to be good at school and never question what the teachers say.

That the most important things in life is to follow the law and pay your bills.

 

Other days I think it is time to fully live out the myth of the artist. Turn my back on society, never again apply for a job, just write write write, doesn’t matter if somebody wants to publish it or not. Only spend time with artists and bohemians, criminals, junkies, winos, gamblers and hookers. People with different lives that can give me some inspiration.

Try to get as much from the dole as possible, make my own booze or grow weed in the closet when I am skint.

Totally give up every thought of having a family. Concentrate on short intensive stormy relationships with crazy wild wonderful women with big plans, broken dreams and shattered lives.

Relationships that turn my whole life upside down with ecstatic sex, lots of red wine, deep conversations, furious fights. Relationships that never give me any comfort and have no future, but really make me feel alive. That  gives me strong emotions of love and happiness or deep grief and worries – but never something in the middle.

To have something to write about after the break up.

 

Some days I am thinking about never drinking again. Thinking that that is the most honest way to live. Never do anything I regret. Always remember what I did the night before when I wake up in the morning.

Never say something stupid or have a one-night-stand again.

Never again spend an afternoon with totally pointless but very entertaining discussions over a couple of pints.

 

Other days I am thinking about never being sober again. Speculating on what I must do to be a functional alcoholic. Counting how many pints I could have every evening and still be able to do the things I have to during the days.

Thinking about a neighbour I had who got up at four in the morning every day, had a sixpack of beer before work. Then worked all day, went straight from work to the pub , got drunk, staggered home at ten, just to wake up at four next day and have another sixpack.

Maybe that would be something for me. I can drink beer all day, when I write, cook or clean the house. And then let loose with wine or whisky in the evening.

Some days I am thinking about if there is a way to finance a heroin addiction without having to humiliate myself. Thinking that if you don’t have to steal or prostitute yourself and always have enough gear  to get a fix before the withdrawal, then maybe thats perfectly alright and really nice.

Spend all your life comfortably numb.

 

But most of the days I am not thinking that much. I am just walking around living my life, which some days feels like an unsatisfying compromise, and other days like a golden middle way.

And there must be many more than me who feels like that?

 


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