Bhuel, ar chuala tú an scannal?
Nár chuala tú an scéal?
Go raibh mí-ádh just uafásach
ag Máire ó Clontarf Square?
D'fhág a fear, chun éalú
Lena mhistress dlithiúil-ar-éigean;
Níl ach a h-iníon fágtha aici
Agus jab páirt-aimseartha beag.
Ach féach orainn in ao'chor, darling;
Nach bhfuil an t-ádh dearg linn?
Nach iontach é an saol, sweety,
Nach aoibhinn é gach lá?
Tá gach ceann dár mic
Ina imreoir láidir rugbaí;
Tá gach ceann dár n-iníonacha
Breá dathúil agus fionn.
Tá ainmneacha breatha Gaelacha acu
Cé nach mbeadh focal Gaeilge acu ;
Ach cad fiú í an teanga sin
Agus BESS á dhéanamh ag mo mhac?
Agus muide speed-walking cois farraige,
Dath 'gréine' breá orainnse,
Beidh buidéal fíona báin sa chistin
Nuair atá muide déanta lenár spórt.
23 Iúil 2007
26 Iúil 2007
Broken
Siobhán sat in the sitting room; the only light coming from the television, the only heat eminating from the mug of coffee between her hands. She considered it pointless to get up and turn on either the radiator or the light, because she'd be told as soon as her husband came home from work that it was only "wasting his precious money." For fourteen years she had lived like this; in a cold, damp old house that she once saw as her dream home. That was, of course, before her husband Anthony became obsessed with 'saving' money.
Anthony wasn't just obsessed with money, either, but also with himself. He'd come home from work almost every evening, sit down on the sofa and begin to watch TV without even acknowledging his wife, with the exception of the constantly-used line; "is the dinner almost ready, love?"
Siobhán seemed to be naturally cold-blooded, and she'd almost always have the electric fire turned on, but Anthony was always the opposite, and never regarded how Siobhán was feeling. He'd come in from work or his daily walk through the village, and immediately turn off any source of heat, systematically saying 'my God, its like a furnace in here.' Siobhán would complain but it would come to no avail, Anthony simply could not see that even though he was sweating from his work or walk, that she was practically freezing and her only comfort was the small amount of heat radiating from the electric fire. He'd turn it off every time he passed by it.
Her favourite TV programme had ended, and her coffee was getting cold, while Anthony would be on his way home soon. She dragged herself off the couch to go make the dinner for the two of them; their daughter Stephanie - the only one who would stand up against Anthony's selfish actions - was away on holidays in Portugal for two weeks with her friends from college. She decided to put together a few vegetables as she turned on the radio. It had been a while since she had any company during the day apart from the radio and the television; her only friend lived on the other side of the city, and besides that she was starting her own family with the arrival of her new baby son.
Soon, Anthony came into the house from work, shouted 'hi' as he made his way immediately to the sitting room and changed the television channel to one of the sports games of the week. He knew Siobhán was in the kitchen, he knew that she was making dinner for him, yet she knew that he had no intention of coming down to kiss her 'hello,' or ask how her day had been, or to even tell her of any of his own day's events. All he wanted was his football and his food.
The radio was still set on one of the newer stations that Stephanie usually listened to, and what played was "My Immortal" by Evanescence, one of her daughter's favourite bands. For some reason, hearing the words of a certain part of the song made her turn the cooker off and break down in tears;
"...but though you're still with me, I feel alone, all alone..."
Anthony wasn't just obsessed with money, either, but also with himself. He'd come home from work almost every evening, sit down on the sofa and begin to watch TV without even acknowledging his wife, with the exception of the constantly-used line; "is the dinner almost ready, love?"
Siobhán seemed to be naturally cold-blooded, and she'd almost always have the electric fire turned on, but Anthony was always the opposite, and never regarded how Siobhán was feeling. He'd come in from work or his daily walk through the village, and immediately turn off any source of heat, systematically saying 'my God, its like a furnace in here.' Siobhán would complain but it would come to no avail, Anthony simply could not see that even though he was sweating from his work or walk, that she was practically freezing and her only comfort was the small amount of heat radiating from the electric fire. He'd turn it off every time he passed by it.
Her favourite TV programme had ended, and her coffee was getting cold, while Anthony would be on his way home soon. She dragged herself off the couch to go make the dinner for the two of them; their daughter Stephanie - the only one who would stand up against Anthony's selfish actions - was away on holidays in Portugal for two weeks with her friends from college. She decided to put together a few vegetables as she turned on the radio. It had been a while since she had any company during the day apart from the radio and the television; her only friend lived on the other side of the city, and besides that she was starting her own family with the arrival of her new baby son.
Soon, Anthony came into the house from work, shouted 'hi' as he made his way immediately to the sitting room and changed the television channel to one of the sports games of the week. He knew Siobhán was in the kitchen, he knew that she was making dinner for him, yet she knew that he had no intention of coming down to kiss her 'hello,' or ask how her day had been, or to even tell her of any of his own day's events. All he wanted was his football and his food.
The radio was still set on one of the newer stations that Stephanie usually listened to, and what played was "My Immortal" by Evanescence, one of her daughter's favourite bands. For some reason, hearing the words of a certain part of the song made her turn the cooker off and break down in tears;
"...but though you're still with me, I feel alone, all alone..."
Contemplation
"…But basically, I just told him where to go. I mean, how dare that idiot talk to me like that! Who does he think he is? Huh? Prince fucking Charming?"
Karen's ranting had gone on for so long that by the time the waiter came over to their table, Mark had begun to daydream – mainly about the waiter. He had heard it all before from his sister already; she broke with her fiancé roughly five or six months ago, recently got back together because they figured that they still had feelings for each other, and yet despite their new attempt at making their relationship work they were fighting already. If that was the first time that Karen and her boyfriend Liam were going through those kind of problems, then Mark could've been a bit more sympathetic, but Karen & Liam had been on and off together for the past three years. Being quite honest, Mark (along with the rest of Karen's friends and family) was getting a bit tired of hearing Karen's complaints of the dramatic situations that she was prone to putting herself into.
"Well," Karen said in an attempt to finish off her speech-like rant, "there's no way he's coming on holidays with me to Malaysia next month, no matter how many diamond rings he buys me! I mean who on Earth tries to propose marriage to get out of an argument? I was livid, Mark! Just livid!"
Finally, she sighs a takes in a deep breath. "So, what do you think? Is he even worth it?"
"Let's face it," Mark replied, "at the end of the day you just allow yourself to become involved with this guy over and over again, and you don't really give yourself a chance to really get him out of your life; how are you supposed to move on if you can't let him go?"
Mark's tone of voice was cold and harsh, but he was aware of the fact that Karen knew he had some element of truth in what he was saying.
"You made the decision to get back with him; so if things go wrong, depending on what goes wrong, you can only blame yourself for getting heartbroken again. I mean, fair enough, the way you see him is always gonna be different to how the rest of us see him, which is just as a major prick. Despite that, you're gonna have to think on whether or not you feel you could be truly happy with him for the rest of your life."
Mark's cold tone made his word all the more hard hitting to Karen, and for the first time in her day she calmed down completely and tried to think about what was really going on. There she was, she thought to herself, back with her old boyfriend for the fourth time, and as they had their first fight (again), Liam tries – in her opinion – to shut her up by proposing to her. She was so taken aback that where other women might have melted even at the idea of it, Liam's attempt at popping the question made her even more enraged but speechless. It was only because of what Mark was saying that she began to think about Liam in a different light. This was a guy, who admitted that he was willing to spend the rest of his life with her; surely she should've been delighted that a confession like that, no matter how unexpected or possibly unromantic he said it. They had been together for such a long time that he was the only person in the world that truly knew her, inside and out, and yet despite that, he still wanted to be with her.
She looked out to the sea from the café window that herself and her brother were in, and thought of what Liam had asked really meant, for the first time ever. They would soon be getting a place together, they'd soon want kids together (Liam definitely did, and the idea of it seemed plausible to Karen), and they could see the world together like Karen always wanted. Regardless of travel plans, she truly loved Liam, even though they'd be at each other's throats every second day.
"So," said Mark, "Do you know what you're doing at all?"
"I already have," replied Karen, as she took out her mobile to send a text to Liam;
'So, would you like to have the ceremony in Malaysia?'
Karen's ranting had gone on for so long that by the time the waiter came over to their table, Mark had begun to daydream – mainly about the waiter. He had heard it all before from his sister already; she broke with her fiancé roughly five or six months ago, recently got back together because they figured that they still had feelings for each other, and yet despite their new attempt at making their relationship work they were fighting already. If that was the first time that Karen and her boyfriend Liam were going through those kind of problems, then Mark could've been a bit more sympathetic, but Karen & Liam had been on and off together for the past three years. Being quite honest, Mark (along with the rest of Karen's friends and family) was getting a bit tired of hearing Karen's complaints of the dramatic situations that she was prone to putting herself into.
"Well," Karen said in an attempt to finish off her speech-like rant, "there's no way he's coming on holidays with me to Malaysia next month, no matter how many diamond rings he buys me! I mean who on Earth tries to propose marriage to get out of an argument? I was livid, Mark! Just livid!"
Finally, she sighs a takes in a deep breath. "So, what do you think? Is he even worth it?"
"Let's face it," Mark replied, "at the end of the day you just allow yourself to become involved with this guy over and over again, and you don't really give yourself a chance to really get him out of your life; how are you supposed to move on if you can't let him go?"
Mark's tone of voice was cold and harsh, but he was aware of the fact that Karen knew he had some element of truth in what he was saying.
"You made the decision to get back with him; so if things go wrong, depending on what goes wrong, you can only blame yourself for getting heartbroken again. I mean, fair enough, the way you see him is always gonna be different to how the rest of us see him, which is just as a major prick. Despite that, you're gonna have to think on whether or not you feel you could be truly happy with him for the rest of your life."
Mark's cold tone made his word all the more hard hitting to Karen, and for the first time in her day she calmed down completely and tried to think about what was really going on. There she was, she thought to herself, back with her old boyfriend for the fourth time, and as they had their first fight (again), Liam tries – in her opinion – to shut her up by proposing to her. She was so taken aback that where other women might have melted even at the idea of it, Liam's attempt at popping the question made her even more enraged but speechless. It was only because of what Mark was saying that she began to think about Liam in a different light. This was a guy, who admitted that he was willing to spend the rest of his life with her; surely she should've been delighted that a confession like that, no matter how unexpected or possibly unromantic he said it. They had been together for such a long time that he was the only person in the world that truly knew her, inside and out, and yet despite that, he still wanted to be with her.
She looked out to the sea from the café window that herself and her brother were in, and thought of what Liam had asked really meant, for the first time ever. They would soon be getting a place together, they'd soon want kids together (Liam definitely did, and the idea of it seemed plausible to Karen), and they could see the world together like Karen always wanted. Regardless of travel plans, she truly loved Liam, even though they'd be at each other's throats every second day.
"So," said Mark, "Do you know what you're doing at all?"
"I already have," replied Karen, as she took out her mobile to send a text to Liam;
'So, would you like to have the ceremony in Malaysia?'
Rogha
Never give a Kilkenny man a choice," a
Dúirt mé cúpla lá ó shin,
"He'll be thinking there for days!"
Is léir anois go bhfuil fuil Chill Cheannaigh
Á rith trí mo chorp!
Tá rogha agam; mo chroí
A thabhairt d'fhear amháin (ó thriúr)
A bhfuil sé tuillte aige -
Cé a gheobhaidh é?
Ní dóigh go bhfuil mo chroí
Réidh d'fhear eile
Agus uaireanta
Ní cheapaim go bhfuil croí agamsa
Ar chor ar bith a thuilleadh!
***
D'athraigh mé, mar a dúirt m'ex liom tráth.
Nílim im' dhuine chéanna, neamhchosúil leis an
gCeann a bhí ionam nuair a thosaigh mé ag
Siúl amach leis, beagnach dhá bhliain ó shin;
Bhí 'chuile rud difiriúil ansin.
1 Meitheamh 2007
Dúirt mé cúpla lá ó shin,
"He'll be thinking there for days!"
Is léir anois go bhfuil fuil Chill Cheannaigh
Á rith trí mo chorp!
Tá rogha agam; mo chroí
A thabhairt d'fhear amháin (ó thriúr)
A bhfuil sé tuillte aige -
Cé a gheobhaidh é?
Ní dóigh go bhfuil mo chroí
Réidh d'fhear eile
Agus uaireanta
Ní cheapaim go bhfuil croí agamsa
Ar chor ar bith a thuilleadh!
***
D'athraigh mé, mar a dúirt m'ex liom tráth.
Nílim im' dhuine chéanna, neamhchosúil leis an
gCeann a bhí ionam nuair a thosaigh mé ag
Siúl amach leis, beagnach dhá bhliain ó shin;
Bhí 'chuile rud difiriúil ansin.
1 Meitheamh 2007
Buachaill Bán Solais
Dhíol mé m'anam
Ní fios cé a cheannaigh é
Níl ach rian fágtha
Den té a bhí ionam, tráth
Cheap mé, agus mise óg
Go mbeidh mé difiriúil uathu go deo
Nach rómánsúil an smaoineamh
Go rabhas chomh bán le haingeal, fadó
Ní hé sin an scéal a thuilleadh;
Táim i ngan fhios cé atá ionam anois
B'fhéidir, lá éigin, go mbeinn in ann filleadh
Ar ais go dtí an Buachaill Bán Solais
A bhí ionam roimh an bpian
Roimh an dráma, 's roimh an bhfíon;
Sula raibh aon fhadhbanna ann;
Na cinn atá fós im' cheann.
Sílim go bhfuil lasrach beag ann go fóill;
Cionnle beag i gcroílár mo chroí
B'fhéidir gur píosa dóchais é sin
Go mb'fhéidir go bhfuil anam fós agam istigh
Tá gach píosa dem' fhuinneamh imithe
Agus ní féidir mé féin a aimsiú níos mó
Ach beidh mé ar ais chugam féin
Agus fanfaidh an Buachaill Bán Solais ionam go deo.
1 Meitheamh 2007
Ní fios cé a cheannaigh é
Níl ach rian fágtha
Den té a bhí ionam, tráth
Cheap mé, agus mise óg
Go mbeidh mé difiriúil uathu go deo
Nach rómánsúil an smaoineamh
Go rabhas chomh bán le haingeal, fadó
Ní hé sin an scéal a thuilleadh;
Táim i ngan fhios cé atá ionam anois
B'fhéidir, lá éigin, go mbeinn in ann filleadh
Ar ais go dtí an Buachaill Bán Solais
A bhí ionam roimh an bpian
Roimh an dráma, 's roimh an bhfíon;
Sula raibh aon fhadhbanna ann;
Na cinn atá fós im' cheann.
Sílim go bhfuil lasrach beag ann go fóill;
Cionnle beag i gcroílár mo chroí
B'fhéidir gur píosa dóchais é sin
Go mb'fhéidir go bhfuil anam fós agam istigh
Tá gach píosa dem' fhuinneamh imithe
Agus ní féidir mé féin a aimsiú níos mó
Ach beidh mé ar ais chugam féin
Agus fanfaidh an Buachaill Bán Solais ionam go deo.
1 Meitheamh 2007
Dá mBeadh...
Dá mbeadh a fhios agat, a chréatúir,
Faoin méid atá ar siúl trí mo cheann
Nó faoi na mothúcháin atá á bhrath agam
Bheadh tuairim difiriúil agat fúm.
Dá mbeadh an aimsir difiriúil, a chroí,
Dá mbuailfaimís le chéile ar shlí difiriúil
Ní bheadh aon fhadhb againnse
'S ní bheadh éinne i bpian.
Níl an lucht ar éinne dúinn;
Sin an tslí a tharla sé
Cé nach raibh sé éasca go leor
Tá súil agam gurb fhiú é.
Abair liom go mbeidh sé togh',
'Gus is é seo deireadh na bhfadhbanna
A mbíonn agamsa im' shaol
Is go mbeidh faoiseamh againn go luath.
Faoin méid atá ar siúl trí mo cheann
Nó faoi na mothúcháin atá á bhrath agam
Bheadh tuairim difiriúil agat fúm.
Dá mbeadh an aimsir difiriúil, a chroí,
Dá mbuailfaimís le chéile ar shlí difiriúil
Ní bheadh aon fhadhb againnse
'S ní bheadh éinne i bpian.
Níl an lucht ar éinne dúinn;
Sin an tslí a tharla sé
Cé nach raibh sé éasca go leor
Tá súil agam gurb fhiú é.
Abair liom go mbeidh sé togh',
'Gus is é seo deireadh na bhfadhbanna
A mbíonn agamsa im' shaol
Is go mbeidh faoiseamh againn go luath.
Coicís
Sular bhuail mé leat
Bhí mo dhomhan foirfe;
Buachaill nua, cairde nua,
Bhíos sásta, a cheap mé.
Ansin, chuir m'fhear thusa in aithne dom
Agus d'athraigh 'chuile rud
I gceann coicíse, d'athraigh mo shaol
Bhí réalta nua i mo spéir arís.
Tuigeann tú mise, cé nach bhfuilimid
Le chéile ach ar feadh coicíse
Ach mar is gnáth, níl sé simplí;
"Is casta cúrsaí an chroí"
An chéad oíche le chéile
Agus bhí ormsa mo bheola a chur ar "m'fhear"
Cé gur chaill sé mo chroí
Ón nóiméad a chur sé thusa in aithne dom.
"Neosfaidh an aimsir."
14 Meitheamh 2007
Bhí mo dhomhan foirfe;
Buachaill nua, cairde nua,
Bhíos sásta, a cheap mé.
Ansin, chuir m'fhear thusa in aithne dom
Agus d'athraigh 'chuile rud
I gceann coicíse, d'athraigh mo shaol
Bhí réalta nua i mo spéir arís.
Tuigeann tú mise, cé nach bhfuilimid
Le chéile ach ar feadh coicíse
Ach mar is gnáth, níl sé simplí;
"Is casta cúrsaí an chroí"
An chéad oíche le chéile
Agus bhí ormsa mo bheola a chur ar "m'fhear"
Cé gur chaill sé mo chroí
Ón nóiméad a chur sé thusa in aithne dom.
"Neosfaidh an aimsir."
14 Meitheamh 2007
An Seomra Dorcha
Dúnaim an doras, ionas
nach mbeidh duine ar bith in ann
cur isteach orm.
Ciúneas iomlán, seachas cogar
nó dhó ón domhan lasmuigh
dem' cheann dubh féin.
Casaim an eochar, ionas
nach mbeadh duine ar bith
in ann an doras a oscailt
Agus mé a scaoileadh
ó mo dhorchas dubh fhéin
cé go mbeadh sé do mo mhaitheas.
Cé nach mbeadh a fhios agam, fós.
nach mbeidh duine ar bith in ann
cur isteach orm.
Ciúneas iomlán, seachas cogar
nó dhó ón domhan lasmuigh
dem' cheann dubh féin.
Casaim an eochar, ionas
nach mbeadh duine ar bith
in ann an doras a oscailt
Agus mé a scaoileadh
ó mo dhorchas dubh fhéin
cé go mbeadh sé do mo mhaitheas.
Cé nach mbeadh a fhios agam, fós.
An Bus Caillte
Tá sé á thiomáint sinn timpeall na tíre!
Is maith an rud nach bhfuil brú orm
Filleadh abhaile thar n-ais abhaile, nó pé rud.
Is léir go bhfuil sé caillte, cosúil liomsa.
Aiste fós le déanamh do choláiste. Fuck it.
Ní ach teipfidh mé
Ar phíosa amháin dem' chúrsa.
Maith go leor, i gcomparáid
Leis an gcuid eile dem' shaol.
Tá brón orm. Ceapaim go bhfuil
a fhios aige ar sin. 'Súil agam.
Tá muid ar an mbóthar ceart anois;
B'fhéidir gur Dia, nó Daideo
É tiománaí an bhus...?
26 Aibreán '07, Br. na hUaimhe
Is maith an rud nach bhfuil brú orm
Filleadh abhaile thar n-ais abhaile, nó pé rud.
Is léir go bhfuil sé caillte, cosúil liomsa.
Aiste fós le déanamh do choláiste. Fuck it.
Ní ach teipfidh mé
Ar phíosa amháin dem' chúrsa.
Maith go leor, i gcomparáid
Leis an gcuid eile dem' shaol.
Tá brón orm. Ceapaim go bhfuil
a fhios aige ar sin. 'Súil agam.
Tá muid ar an mbóthar ceart anois;
B'fhéidir gur Dia, nó Daideo
É tiománaí an bhus...?
26 Aibreán '07, Br. na hUaimhe
Ionsaí
Cad 'tá cearr, libhse go léir;
Go bhfuil oraibh 'bheith páirteach
I saolta na ndaoine nach mbaineann
Libhse a thuilleadh?
Cén fáth go bhfuil oraibh bréaga a chumadh;
Bréaga dochreidte, bréaga déistineacha!
Cén fáth nach féidir libh fanacht amach
Ó shaolta na ndaoine 'tá sásta?
Bhain sibhse iarracht eile
Mo chroí; an grá 'tá agam a chríochnú
Agus chreid sé sibh, ar feadh tamall,
Ach t'ár ngrá níos láidre ná sin.
Ní chreidim cé chomh h-íseal 's atá
Bhur n-anamnacha, 'gus ní bheidh lá
Nuair a bheidh muid ag ithe le chéile ar an mbórd
Choíche.
Go bhfuil oraibh 'bheith páirteach
I saolta na ndaoine nach mbaineann
Libhse a thuilleadh?
Cén fáth go bhfuil oraibh bréaga a chumadh;
Bréaga dochreidte, bréaga déistineacha!
Cén fáth nach féidir libh fanacht amach
Ó shaolta na ndaoine 'tá sásta?
Bhain sibhse iarracht eile
Mo chroí; an grá 'tá agam a chríochnú
Agus chreid sé sibh, ar feadh tamall,
Ach t'ár ngrá níos láidre ná sin.
Ní chreidim cé chomh h-íseal 's atá
Bhur n-anamnacha, 'gus ní bheidh lá
Nuair a bheidh muid ag ithe le chéile ar an mbórd
Choíche.
My Straight Moment for the Year!
So at the moment, my bedroom is being completely refurbished, and the parents bought a new bedside locker and wardrobe.
Now, before I go on, lemme point out that these pieces of furniture are of the easy-to-assemble variety!
Anyway, Dad put together most of the wardrobe by himself but soon told me to help with near the end as there was a part to put together that would've been tricky for one person alone to do. He handed me the drill and the screws, and told me where to drill while he held the pieces together.
Now, I'm not exactly as camp as Graham Norton (or at least I hope not), but I'm certainly no macho man! Whereas even though I'm not so stereotypically gay that I'd be screaming the house down each time I brake a nail, I usually avoid any kind of physical work like the plague. I'd consider myself the more intellectual, artistic type of man. True enough, that's quite a gay stereotype in itself, but its not the worst of the worst.
Still, when I was given the drill and started working on the wardrobe, I felt suddenly much more masculine than I had done in a long while! It was amazing; a power tool in my hand, working with wood, doing the normal DIY, it was... great!!! I loved it! So much so, that I told Dad that I'd assemble the bedside locker on my own - which I did! And in record time too, according to Dad!
I really felt great afterwards, like a proper man. Now, usually, I don't like the typical attributes of masculinity; I'm usually more inclined to think that as long as anyone - male or female - is comfortable in themselves then ideals of masculinity or femininity shouldn't matter. But that night changed my mind (about myself only) completely. Fair enough, I'm quite talented with languages, music and the arts in general, but I should be doing more physical stuff, proper excercise, housework etc., to balance the intellectual side of my personality. There's no reason why I should ignore a certain side of my personality just because of my sexuality. Although to be honest, I'm not too sure if my sexuality has anything to do with it, in my case anyhow...
Still, that could lead onto a completely different blog...
Now, before I go on, lemme point out that these pieces of furniture are of the easy-to-assemble variety!
Anyway, Dad put together most of the wardrobe by himself but soon told me to help with near the end as there was a part to put together that would've been tricky for one person alone to do. He handed me the drill and the screws, and told me where to drill while he held the pieces together.
Now, I'm not exactly as camp as Graham Norton (or at least I hope not), but I'm certainly no macho man! Whereas even though I'm not so stereotypically gay that I'd be screaming the house down each time I brake a nail, I usually avoid any kind of physical work like the plague. I'd consider myself the more intellectual, artistic type of man. True enough, that's quite a gay stereotype in itself, but its not the worst of the worst.
Still, when I was given the drill and started working on the wardrobe, I felt suddenly much more masculine than I had done in a long while! It was amazing; a power tool in my hand, working with wood, doing the normal DIY, it was... great!!! I loved it! So much so, that I told Dad that I'd assemble the bedside locker on my own - which I did! And in record time too, according to Dad!
I really felt great afterwards, like a proper man. Now, usually, I don't like the typical attributes of masculinity; I'm usually more inclined to think that as long as anyone - male or female - is comfortable in themselves then ideals of masculinity or femininity shouldn't matter. But that night changed my mind (about myself only) completely. Fair enough, I'm quite talented with languages, music and the arts in general, but I should be doing more physical stuff, proper excercise, housework etc., to balance the intellectual side of my personality. There's no reason why I should ignore a certain side of my personality just because of my sexuality. Although to be honest, I'm not too sure if my sexuality has anything to do with it, in my case anyhow...
Still, that could lead onto a completely different blog...
Éireannaigh à la Carte
Agus mise is m'fhear amach ar date aréir, chuaigh muid chun dinnéar a fháil i mbialann Síneach sa cheantar Áiseach (b'fhéidir gur chóir dom Chinatown a thabhairt air) i mBleá Cliath, i. Sráid Pharnell. Chuaigh muid go dtí bialann Coiréach a raibh béilí deasa aici, dar lena biachlár.
Athraíonn go tapaidh an saol i mBleá Cliath. 10 mbliana ó shin, ní bheadh ach Éireannaigh, fíor-Dubs sa cheantar sin. Anois, is annamh Éireannach a fheiceáil ar Shráid Pharnell. Bhí teach tábhairne Polannach darb ainm Zagloba in aice linn, agus treasna an bhóthar, bialann Síneach a chur síos ar an Éire nua s'againne ina hainm - Parnell City Chinese Restaurant.
Ní dhearna ainm na bialainne aon chiall dom, níorbh le Charles Stuart Parnell an príomhchathair. Ach, bhí orm smaoineamh liom fhéin nach mbeadh a fhios ag na Dubs nua seo faoin sórt duine a raibh i bParnell. B'fhéidir go mbeidh a fhios ag a gcuid páistí nuair a fhreastalaíonn siad ar scoil, agus iad ina nÉireannaigh Síneacha; b'fhéidir ansin go mbeadh a bpáistí in ann insint dá dtuistí cérbh é Parnell, agus cén fáth nach ndéanann Parnell City aon chiall.
Seans maith gurb muide (mise agus m'fhear) an t-aon cúpla Éireannach inár mbialann an oíche sin. Bhí popcheol Áiseach ar siúl, nuacht Síneach ar siúl ar an teilifís a bhí acu ar chúl na bialainne in aice leis an gcistin, agus b'é an t-aon fhógra a raibh acu i mBéarla ná an ceann 'No Smoking' faoi cheann des' na pictúirí. Fiú go raibh ainmeacha ar na freastalaithe scríofa i Sínis - is fíor gurb fhreastalaithe Síneacha iad, ach ní bheadh ach Sínigh in ann iad a léamh, so céard fúinnse?
Dúradh liom tamall ó shin go bhfuil níos mó Sínigh in Éirinn anois ná Gaeilgeoirí líofa. Deirtear anois gurb é seo an cás chéanna maidir leis na Polainnigh, agus más fíor é, ní chuirfeadh sé aon iontas orm. Tá nuachtáin agus irisí ar fáil i dteangacha eile nach Béarla ná Gaeilge iad, atá ag freastal ar an diaspora nua s'againne in Éirinn, agus muid mar pháirt tábhachtach den Aontas Eorpach.
Ach céard faoinár dteanga fhéin? Maidir liomsa, ba bhreá liom eachtrannaigh a fheiceáil ag foghlaim na Gaeilge chun ár dteanga náisiúnta a leanúint ar aghaidh. Tá aithne agam ar roinnt eachtrannaigh atá sé sin á dhéanamh acu - bhuail mé le fear ó Trinidad & Tobago ar an idirlíon le déanaí atá ag foghlaim na Gaeilge toisc go bhfuil ainm Gaelach - Kevin (Caoimhín) - aige. Thar Seachtain na Gaeilge i mbliana, beidh clár darb ainm "Níos Gaelaí" ar siúl ar RTÉ, ag plé faoi na heachtrannaigh atá ag foghlaim na Gaeilge. Is fógra maith é do thodhchaí na teanga, ach is trua nach bhfuil sí á fhoghlaim ag 'chuile nua-Éireannach.
Is cás aisteach é m'fhear, agus náisiúnachas i gceist. Nuair a dúirt mé leis, agus muid sa bhialann, nach bhfuil go leor Éireannaigh dúchasacha sa cheantar ina raibh muid a thuilleadh, dúirt seisean gurb fhéidir go bhfuil sé sin go maith. Ní maith leis Éireannaigh, im' thuairimse, toisc gur fhás sé in áit 'crua' i mBleá Cliath. Níl meas aige ar an tír, ar an gcultúr ná ar a muintir fhéin. Tuigim go maith go bhfuil sé mar sin toisc nach raibh taithí maith aige ar aon chuid de agus é óg, ach seo an rud aisteach; nuair a bhí sé ina theach tábhairne is fearr leis sa chathair, roimh an clúiche ollmhór rugbaí idir Éire agus Sasana i bPáirc a'Chrócaigh, chuala sé grúpa Sasanach ag rá 'fuck the Irish' lena chéile go glórach. Dúirt sé liom nuair a bhíos ag caint leis ar an nguthán go chuir sé sin an-fhearg air. Oíche eile, agus é ag obair sa phictiúrlann ina bhaile fhéin, thosaigh col ceathrar Sasanach le chara leis ag rá 'but why didn't the Irish fight back against the English when you were being invaded?' Ba léir nach raibh eolas ar bith aici faoi na heachtraí a tharla fadó.
Thosaigh m'fhear ag cosaint a thír agus a mhuintir, cé nach maith leis Éire, an Ghaeilge ná na Gaeil. Ach in ainneoin sin, throid sé an Sasanach ar son na nGael. Cheapas fhéin go raibh sé seo fíor-aisteach; is Éireannach à la carte é m'fhear, agus is dóigh gur Éireannaigh à la carte iad Sínigh Pharnell City. B'fhéidir go bhfuil an sórt aitheantais náisiúnach sin níos fearr ná faic.
Croíbhriste
Folamh, briste 'gus marbh
Ach in ainneoin sin, níl tú uaim
Ní a thuilleadh, ní mar leannán
Ach ar bhealaigh eile, ba mhaith liom thú
A bheith anseo,
A bheith liomsa
Chun barróg a thabhairt dom
'Gus chun mo chroí a dheisiú.
Táim ag iarraidh caoineadh
Agus é a ligint amach
As m'anam, as mo choirp
Agus chun mé féin a fháil ar ais.
I mo luí 's i m'aonar,
Brathnaím easpa atá im' sheomra;
Níl tusa anseo a thuilleadh,
Níl ach d'éadaí fágtha.
Ligim osna
Chun m'anáil a thairringt
Ach níl ach dubh le mhothú umam -
An dath ab fhearr leatsa.
Is cara thú anois, a chroí
'S tá cara agat ionam
Beidh mé anseo duit, a chroí
Má tá cluas uait.
Seo é deireadh dár ngrá, a chroí
Ach ní hé seo deireadh an scéil
Leanfaidh muid ar aghaidh lenár saoil,
Á! Mo chroí, sin é an tsaoil.
Nuair a fhágann leannán,
Tagann sé do chroí, agus ní bheidh tú i gceart
Go dtí go bhfásann ceann nua
In ionad de'n seancheann.
Cluain Tarbh,
26 Meitheamh 2006
Ach in ainneoin sin, níl tú uaim
Ní a thuilleadh, ní mar leannán
Ach ar bhealaigh eile, ba mhaith liom thú
A bheith anseo,
A bheith liomsa
Chun barróg a thabhairt dom
'Gus chun mo chroí a dheisiú.
Táim ag iarraidh caoineadh
Agus é a ligint amach
As m'anam, as mo choirp
Agus chun mé féin a fháil ar ais.
I mo luí 's i m'aonar,
Brathnaím easpa atá im' sheomra;
Níl tusa anseo a thuilleadh,
Níl ach d'éadaí fágtha.
Ligim osna
Chun m'anáil a thairringt
Ach níl ach dubh le mhothú umam -
An dath ab fhearr leatsa.
Is cara thú anois, a chroí
'S tá cara agat ionam
Beidh mé anseo duit, a chroí
Má tá cluas uait.
Seo é deireadh dár ngrá, a chroí
Ach ní hé seo deireadh an scéil
Leanfaidh muid ar aghaidh lenár saoil,
Á! Mo chroí, sin é an tsaoil.
Nuair a fhágann leannán,
Tagann sé do chroí, agus ní bheidh tú i gceart
Go dtí go bhfásann ceann nua
In ionad de'n seancheann.
Cluain Tarbh,
26 Meitheamh 2006
Night's Silence Falls
Night's silence falls
Fear invites himself in
Who knew uncertainty
Would make such a din!
A dream I had, a tiger I saw, and on my bed
He bit an antelope's heart out, raw.
Was it a warning, and what should I make
Of the blood, wiped into the duvet case?
I tried to lead the tiger out of my room,
To the back garden, but I woke up too soon.
I didn't see the result of that dream
And what's worse, I didn't see the result of me.
Baile Átha Cliath (Dublin), 5th October, 2005
Fear invites himself in
Who knew uncertainty
Would make such a din!
A dream I had, a tiger I saw, and on my bed
He bit an antelope's heart out, raw.
Was it a warning, and what should I make
Of the blood, wiped into the duvet case?
I tried to lead the tiger out of my room,
To the back garden, but I woke up too soon.
I didn't see the result of that dream
And what's worse, I didn't see the result of me.
Baile Átha Cliath (Dublin), 5th October, 2005
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