I’ve talked a few times about stupid, meaningless holidays, and we’ve just passed another. Oh, i imagine to those of irish descent and catholic faith this day may actually mean something; and in fact I am of irish descent somewhere back in the family tree (somewhere in the stew along with scottish, french, german, dutch, […]
I’ve talked a few times about stupid, meaningless holidays, and we’ve just passed another.
Oh, i imagine to those of irish descent and catholic faith this day may actually mean something; and in fact I am of irish descent somewhere back in the family tree (somewhere in the stew along with scottish, french, german, dutch, scandinavian, and even claims of cherokee).
But a any day named for a dubious catholic saint is a hard thing for this life-long atheist to to get worked up over. And a day celebrating the irish that has more to do with green beer and leprechauns strikes me as one of america’a sillier occasions to get stupid drunk.
Still – for some reason this day always leaves me feeling vaguely sad; thoughts of days past and celebrations of various sorts drift vaguely through my mind.
Maybe it’s the irish in me; maybe I’m more irish than I thought. Or maybe it’s the Jameson and the Pogues I’ve been listening to for the last few days – I’ll be fucked if I know. But I walked around all day yesterday in a funny state of mind, trying to get a billion things done, driving around, running errands; and all day I went from a vague under-current of the desire to cry, to the desire to hit someone.
Plus, the store was sold out of guiness last night. So it was that kind of holiday.
But in any case – Lets say it with song. NOt the most irish of songs, but a song that sorta speaks to me. And it’s the fuckin’ Pogues, man.
I come old friend from Hell tonight
Across the rotting sea
Nor the nails of the cross
Nor the blood of Christ
Can bring you help this eve
The dead have come to claim a debt from thee
They stand outside your door
Four score and three
There are silly reasons to get stupid drunk? I guess I take getting stupid drunk too seriously.
What is it about being Irish and being morose? Even if you’re like 1/199th Irish?
I don’t know, but I knew a girl named Erin and I’ve always wanted to see her go braless.
Oh, and remember, Corned Beef is a jewish thing that was adopted by the Irish immigrants in NYC. Salt and Beef were not readily available in Ireland…
Disclaimer, I’m about 80% Irish. (if you include the fact that sopme of the Irish I decend from were from other places)
Good point, JJ, next time we’ll have to have mutton.
Whirly, you know, I’ve known two or three girls named Erin; all of ’em utterly fuckable. I don’t know what it is, some names just seem to convey fuckability.
Think about that a minute before you name your daughters, people.
I used to work on 5th Avenue in NYC, and everyone who lived or worked in the city would just dread St. Patrick’s Day. Every freaking lightweight would crawl out of his hole to puke green beer in the street, sexually harass women, and threaten to beat up men. We’d just all stay in the building all day and not go outside to deal with that shit, or we’d just not come in to work on the day of the parade.
On a happier note, ah…The Pogues. There are a dozen songs of theirs that have a dozen different memories attached to them. Sally MacLennan, that cover of The Irish Rover they did with the Chieftans, Fairytale of New York, A Pair of Brown Eyes, Haunted…every single one of them has their own story in my life. But the song of theirs that really makes me tear up and get all wistful is this one.
BTW, Karl, if you’ve never seen this documentary on McGowan, rent it. You’ll really like it.
Who needs a reason to get stupid drunk?????
Kinda the point, Tom. No reason is the best reason.
Hey–
Just found your site (via Cunning Linguist). Looks like San Vicente Blvd., LA, CA, after dark…
Come by my site and read some of my hot, wet stories. (Free. Female. Single. No silicone. (No melanin anywhere, either, as you will see…;-D~ )
Sat I spent the evening in Key West amongst Drag Queens. Sunday we nursed our hangovers. Whatcha gonna do- St Patricks + Key West!
Fuck.
I want your life, Metis.
Hang on, I’m comin’ to get you. Fuck all this.