And all I've done for want of wit
To mem'ry now I can't recall;
So fill to me the parting glass,
Good night and joy be with you all
Traditional Irish Folk Song
As if to prove to myself I can still blog on the site if I want to, if the time presents it self, if I excercise a little willpower, turn on the CD player, a glass of water,
the incessant whistle of the apartment air conditioner (Summer has decided to be summer again)
My roomate is fresh back from Ireland (this time two years ago I was packing my bags to go), he's come back now more worldly and engaged to his girlfriend: Blarney Castle, a garden, a stone walk, mumbling sweet nothings, fumbling through blue jean pockets for the ring. The green fields reach far enough to touch the sky.
And he sat up until half past ten telling stories, and I sat listening, thinking
I have to go back
I have to go back
Strange how the motherlands (even great grandmotherlands) have that draw. Two years since and all I can think sometimes is I have to go back there again, and soon.
