CC27: Misery

We saw Bryan Adams live.  It was a nice evening.  Emer was really happy.  She had a seventh heaven face on her all the time.  We stayed in a hotel in Dublin that night and early next day we got the bus home.  Emer spent the journey with her sleepy head comfortably scrunched into my shoulder, occasionally drifting off with her mouth open and drooling on me.  I wished that some magical force would intervene in all goings-on and make it so that we could stay on that bus with my wife drooling on me forever and ever.

 

 

Bao and I were chased by a nasty little Pomeranian pup for a stretch along St. Mary's Road as we made our way to the Spirit Store for the show.  I had to laugh when Bao threatened the aggressive wee thing with an invisible chain whip as though he was defending the Shaolin gates against an attacking Qing army in a blood-wearing classic from the mid-seventies.  Bao laughed too.  It was a funny squeaky creature.  Not the death-dog terror of legendary wild plains.  We feigned frightened to make it feel better about itself and left it yapping in the back distance.

 

 

growls growls larger than all sound in the world and teeth you wouldn't want to see or conceive or feel cold with fear of meeting sharpness but Strike once he did and no more the beast craved flesh no more the creature reached tasty beautiful Ulster bodies that cheered and raised the new hound of the land and the tears of Culainn ran and ran till the young guardian of men stepped up with broad tender hand

 

 

'Have you talked to her?' Bao asked as we moved along with confidence.

'No,' I replied.  'I haven't heard from her in months.'

'Where is she these days anyway?'

'I know she's not in Dundalk.  I can feel that she's moved on.'

'How?'

'It's just a feeling I get.'

'Is it like a magical feeling?'

'Yeah, kind of.  I can almost sense when she is near.'

'Like radar.'

'And I get a strong feeling when she is far away.'

'That's romantic.'

'Thanks.'

'Where do you suppose she is?'

'I don't know.  She talked about going to England.  But I really don't know.  She could be in Hawaii.'

'I'd say she's having a great time there.  Surfing and drinking cocktails on the beach.'

'Yeah.  Thanks, Bao.'

'You are welcome.'

 

The conversation continued inside the Spirit Store over pints of stout as the band Three Angles readied their instruments to perform.

 

'I have news for you, my friend,' said Bao.

'Great.  What is it?'

'I am going back to Taiwan.'

'Really?  Why?  I'm surprised. You've been here for what over 25 years?'

'My childhood sweetheart has finally agreed to marry me.  My lovely Jing.'

'You told me she was already married.'

'Three times.  But she just had another divorce so now it's my chance.  It has been many many years but I still love her.  I haven't had a woman since her.  I've been gay for so long.'

'And what are you just going to turn the gay thing off?'

'No, but I'm old enough now to settle with a wife.  She knows about that.  She has always known.  I'm getting old, my friend.'

 

He wasn't that old, nearly 60, but he certainly didn't look it.

 

'Well, good luck. It's a big move.  I think of you as Irish now.  You will suffer reverse culture-shock, you know.'

'Maybe.  Jing has also said she will give me a job working in one of her cigarette and sex shops, so if I get urges I can suppress them with a video and a smoke.'

'Great.  It sounds like you have everything sorted.'

'Yeah, I think so, my friend.  Thanks.  What about you?  Have you had any luck?  With a job, I mean.'

'No.'

'It's been a while now since you were sacked from the printing company.'

'I wasn't sacked.  It was a temporary job.  They didn't have any full-time positions.'

'Right.  It's a pity.  That would have been a good job if you had stayed there longer.'

 

Actually I had been sacked pretty much.  I told the manager he could eat shit when he questioned my integrity after I called in sick.  I made a big deal about it.  Who do you think you are?  I'm dying here.  I can't work today.  Do you want to come and check my temperature for your books?  Jesus.  Eat shit.  I was in fact just lazy and didn't want to work that day.  What can I say?  Should I confess my sins?  To hell with it.  I'll take the heat for human wane as penance.  Eat shit, honour.

 

ZINGAZINGYAAAAOW

 

The knife-edged sound of a limbering guitar interrupted many statements, thoughts, and sups in the bar for a moment. As the noise twinkled out in the soundcheck, folks gradually regained their footings. 

 

'So what will you miss about Ireland?'

'Big boys, bigger girls.  Really strong and good beer like this (supping his Guinness). Sausage and batter.  It will be good to eat real Chinese food again, but I will miss the sausage and batters.  You know I love them.'

'I know.'

'Also, battle-meets, and handshakes in the hell of handshakes.  And this.  The music.'  (He nods at the band)

 

Bao loved folk music, especially grumpy laments and ballads. I knew that when he returned to Taiwan he would be a great ambassador for our traditional Irish misery.