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It’s very, very hard to feel sorry for this guy. Fine, he doesn’t look happy – life has clearly been hard on him. He’s obesely overweight, he’s aging badly, he’s got glasses that could be part of the Hubble Telescope. There’s something of Jackie Healy Ray about him. I would imagine that big clunky walking stick (hospital issue circa 1978) was the result of a war injury. He struggled to walk three feet in a minute and I’m sure I saw a tear come to his eye from the pain in his hip. Perhaps he needs a hip replacement but his name is a distant glimmer on the long HSE waiting list.

By the looks of his clothing, he is not homeless, but he clearly has no one at home to care for his attire. The suit he is wearing has long since ceased to be respectable and now just looks like a drab patchwork quilt. His shoes with odd laces definitely frequent the cobbler and he seems to be without socks. A glance at his shirt show the fading dignity of a man who still uses starch with varied degrees of success.

He is grunting. He’s not drunk, he is perhaps in some pain – breathing seems to be a struggle, perhaps due to his weight. I’m sure there is an abundance of health issues that are not evident on the surface and though he is maybe in his late fifties or early sixties, his withered hands are those of a man many years his senior. A life of hard manual labour and no concept of the modern man’s grooming regime, has ensured that his skin, his hair, his feet, his hands, will shrivel away in front of his eyes – they cannot be patched together like his suit.

He asks the lady sitting beside him for the use of her phone. This may be a sign of his poverty or it may be an indication that he cannot bring himself to embrace this modern mobile life, though it is clearly a necessity for him. He asks her to dial the number for him and is visibly shaken when no one answers. Is he late? Is he due to meet someone? Or is he just reaching out in the hope that someone will touch his life in some kind way? The woman apologises, puts her phone away and returns to her iPod.

So, why do I find it hard to feel sorry for this guy? A few stops before my final stop, he is ready to get off. He struggles to get up and hobbles forward. He takes his time, but the door is being held for him, so he can afford to. People move out of his way, myself included, but his does not stop him from sticking his industrial walking stick right on my foot and then conclude the endeavour by putting his full immense weight right on my already aching limb. Hours later, as I type this, my foot is still sore. Argh! I hate him! The git!

This is not a proper blog post. I’m sitting on the DART, almost home and there’s only one other bloke on the carriage. He’s tapping away on his old ASUS EeePC and I’m feeling mean. So I’ve taken out my updated version of his laptop, the 900 Series, just to show off. Yes, I am a nerd. Yes, I am mean!

Alexia first brought my attention to the EeePC and I immediately wanted it. Not because it would aid in my productivity, not because it would make me more efficient, not even because I needed it for work. It was a pretty gadget and I wanted it.

He looks jealous. My work here is done.

This is a true story. It’s a number of years ago now and, while I am able to talk about it today, it freaked the hell out of me at the time. Don’t read it now – save this story in your bookmarks and come back to it, when you are home alone, late at night, a few drinks, just finished watching Saw IV and you can hear some strange noises outside, only then will you truly appreciate the horror we experienced seven years ago.

Lottie and I moved out of Wicklow at the start of the Millennium, early 2000. We were independent, we were forthright, the world was our oyster…we hadn’t a clue.

Killester, north of Dublin, is where we initially settled. We moved into a huge house in Brookwood, which we shared with ten other people. We had the biggest room in the place and even had attic space. Rent was next to nothing and we had an abundance of disposable income. We went out a lot and had a good time. Life was good. But it could not last.

We shared the house with a number of characters. There was Mr OCD, who did exactly as it said on the tin. There was Mr Normal, who was a nice, sound, feet on the ground type of guy who we quite liked. There was Frenchy, a young French student who seemed more out of place there than a nun at a Marilyn Manson concert. There were a number of people who we never saw and one strange old guy who reminded me of Roy from Coronation Street. I suspect he like to train spot (ooh, look! another DART). And there was a couple in their thirties who we saw quite a lot – let’s call them Sally and Steve. Now, Sally was not a pretty girl. All the makeovers in the world could not help this woman. Her misshaped hips and Mike Tyson face is further proof that God does not exist. Her boyfriend, Steve, was no Lothario either and his Nordsoide accent was unintelligible at times. There was a large sitting room in the house for communal use, but everyone was aware that the sitting room belonged to Sally and Steve, and it was rare that anyone else would venture in there. It reeked of smoke, was covered in beer cans, had an ancient TV (it may have been black and white) and furniture that was out of style in the 1970’s. This was their abode. Jobless, senseless and penniless, this is where Sally and Steve spent their day.

It was announced that the house our little dysfunctional group shared was going up for sale and Lottie and I were devastated. Just settled in and getting our lives in order, we did not want to go through the flat hunting process all over again. So, as luck would have it, one of our house mates, Mr Normal, had quickly organised a new home for himself and there was a spare room going, so Lottie and I snapped it up.

It was a hole! It was a tiny room in a tiny run-down fixer-upper at the other side of Killester. We shared a half-built bathroom with Mr Normal and the Landlord, an old guy who had spent the last five years rebuilding this house that was no where near finished.

But, we were happy. We were young and in lust. Our hectic social life and excessive drinking habits made us blind to the inadequacies of the cesspit we lived in.

Late one night (a rare night when we hadn’t been out on the town, we finished watching an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on our big enormous 14” screen, and Lottie got out of bed to get a drink of water. Now, allow me to attempt to paint a picture of the house.

The floorplan of the entire house was in an L shape. Our room was at the top of the L facing inwards to the back garden (Point A), while the kitchen, where Lottie was getting her glass of water, was at the base of the L facing inwards to the garden too (point B). She went to the sink (Point C) to get her water but, turning around, she looked down the garden to see a small, strange figure perched on the window ledge of our bedroom, staring in. She described it at the time as like a goblin. She turned on the light which startled the figure and sent it scurrying away from the garden.

Lottie returned to the bedroom, nervous and pale, and told me what she had seen. At this time, I went up to the kitchen, keeping the light off so I would not be seen. It was a bright moonlit night, so the garden was quite clear, but I saw nothing. I stared down the garden for some time before giving up. I returned to the sink to get that glass of water and as I did, I looked out the window directly above the sink. It was usually a fairly pointless window, as directly in front of it were high bushes with a wall behind them. So this window provided no additional light to the kitchen. As I stared out, no more than two foot in front of me, a small, pale, round face peered in at me, wide eyed and bloodshot. I was frozen to the spot. Fear gripped every inch of me and as the face sank back into the bushes, completely expressionless, I realised what it was. It was our old housemate, Steve.

He must have followed us from our previous house. It frightens me to imagine how often he used to watch us, where he may have followed us, what he may have planned to do…eek!

Needless to say, we had moved out within about two weeks.

Insanely expensive as they may be, I got my birthday present today – two tickets to Tom Waits on 1st August. Woohoo!

It is too much money, but it’s a once in a lifetime experience and I can’t wait for the gig. Thank you sooo much to Liz for buying me the tickets. 🙂

Update: Ray Foley just announced the gigs have sold out. 27/05/08 12.30pm

Much as I tend to avoid anything and everything to do with sports, a couple of years ago we caught the Rugby bug (along with a lot of the country), so I was excited to be watching the Heineken Cup Final on Saturday afternoon. I was all set to write a post on the match and give my humble opinion, but then I saw that Andrew had summed it up nicely. Check out Andrew’s post-match analysis here.

It is exactly a year to the day since I met my birth mother, and yesterday we met again and looked over one of the most eventful years in both our lives.

Lunch seemed like a good idea, except I really wasn’t feeling well, but we gave it a go in Davy Byrne’s on Duke Street. Soup and brown bread is all I could manage. One year ago in the Berkeley Court in Ballsbridge, around the same time of day, we had a glass of wine together and began to ask questions, as we both tried to hold back emotions and nerves. Well, any nervousness or apprehensions that may have been there then, have now all completely disintegrated, as we hug and immediate begin chatting about our respective lives.

We both have been very busy of late; I’ve joined the Blogosphere and as a result have gained an extra branch to my already hectic social life. She has been on holiday after holiday this year already, has had the twins confirmation, has been dealing with the kids breaking up for the summer holidays, worrying about her husband’s burgeoning music career (he’s joined a band as a drummer), on top of her already exhaustive mothering duties, and her own job. So, sadly, we have not had as much time to sit down and talk as we would have liked.

Allow me to recap: 26½ years ago, I was given up for adoption and gained a great home and a new name (my original birth certificate calls me Dominic). Early last year, I finally got up off my lazy arse and registered with the Adoption Preference register. Almost immediately there was a match, Teresa having been on the register since its launch three years earlier. After exchanging letter and emails we quickly arranged to meet and instantly hit it off. No awkwardness, no discomfort, no tension at all. On the same day, I met her brilliant husband (not my birth father) and not too long after that, I went down to Clare (the opposite side of the country to me) where I met my half-brothers and -sisters. I have two brothers now and two additional sisters (twins) to add to my own sister.

This last year has been fantastic. I have been down to Clare a number of times (the last time was for the twins confirmation and I wrote about it here and here), and they have visited us in Greystones. Towards the end of last year, the eldest of the four, Sean, who is now 16 (10 years my junior – oh God I feel old), stayed with us for a week and did Transition Year work experience with Lottie. It was wonderful having him up and being part of his life as well a the lives of my other new siblings.

So, one year on, conversation flows freely and easily and range from my reaction to meeting Teresa’s mother to Indiana Jones, from metaphysical discussions about fate to the final episode of Desperate Housewives. I only wish I was feeling a little less under the weather, but it was lovely seeing her again and I am happy things are still going so well.

Previous Posts

Adoption – In Search Of My Biomammy

Adoption Worries

Weekend In Clare – Saturday

How To Lose Your Good Mood In Three Easy Steps Hours

Sitting upstairs, at the front of the bus, heading home from work on Friday evening, there are two kids – maximum 16 years of age – discussing how old they are now. They’re look a little like Goths but with a splash of colour and a smile – are they emo’s?

They were reminiscing about primary school and when they first met in first year. They’ve been together for 18 months and lately Emoboy’s mother has begun to have problems with Emogirl. They suspect it’s because 18 month ago she may have thought it was a little crush but now she is beginning to realise that they are ‘destined to be together forever’. He is angry at his mum for having a problem, because ‘she has no right o judge him’. She had him when she was aged 16 and has no right to lecture him about his girlfriend and anyway he won’t be as ‘stupid and naïve’ as his mother to make such a mistake. Yes, he descibes his own birth as a mistake – how much more teenage angst would you like? Deep stuff.

Just before I get off the bus, she makes him promise her they’ll be together forever. He promised!

This is fantastic. Wheezer’s new music video. Thank you John Braine for posting this one.

It is perhaps fitting that I begin listening to Scarlett Johansson‘s album of Tom Waits’ songs on the day Waits announces details of his first Irish gigs in 21 years.

Over the years I had heard many Waits’ tracks, often sung by others, some by the artist himself, but it was his 2004 album, Blood Money, that grabbed my attention and made me a real fan. God’s Away On Business was a track I watched late one night on telly – it was a dark, twisted track with amazing lyrics matched by the gravelly voice of Tom Waits. I ran out the next day to buy the album (how much easier life is with the advent of music downloading).

Anyone, let alone a young Hollywood starlet, taking on the feat of doing an album entirely of his work, was always going to ruffle a few feathers among the Waitsian fan base, a devout following. Johansson has the advantage of cult status however, having been so perfect in the incredible Sophia Coppola movie, Lost in Translation, with Bill Murray. This was a movie that showed her to have the beauty and innocence of youth coupled with her wise eyes and a maturity that made the films’ pivotal relationship so wonderful to watch. But does that allow her the audacity to borrow from Waits’ catalogue? Each fan will have to make up their own mind.

Track by Track

The opening track, Fawn (from 2002’s Alice), is an instrumental piece and feels a little pointless, as if they are taunting us slightly. I was waiting for it to cut into the meat of the dish. Fawn is a cute intro though, that serves more to introduce us to the album’s producer, Dave Sitek, than to Ms Johansson. It’s clear that we are not going to get any of Waits’ creepy, haunting, beats that seem to hunt you while you sleep. Instead we are presented with a misty, southern states, drunken jazz atmosphere that fits very well with Waits’ pseudo-melodies and intelligent lyrics. The inclusion of Nick Zinner from the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s and David Bowie on some tracks can only help the situation.

The Town With No Cheer, from Swordfish Trombones (1983), is one of the best tracks on the album and it is understandable that this song is chosen to introduce us to Scarlett’s smoky bass tones and masculine pronunciations of the lyrics. Quickly we learn that Scarlett’s vocal range is somewhat limited – she struggles with higher notes and her pitch is shaky at times. But, when we consider the gruff nature of Waits’ original vocals, we can look past this, as long as there is enough quality in what we hear throughout the rest of the album.

There is truth to the old adage, put your best foot forward. This is clearly what Sitek and Johansson have chosen to do here. Tracks 3 and 4, Falling Down and Anywhere I Lay My Head are truly remarkable.

Falling Down (from 1988’s Big Time) has a wonderfully strong start with near-synthetic piano overlaying a repetitive accordion piece. The lyrics are inspired and delivered beautifully by Johansson, but it is the inclusion of David Bowie’s backing vocals that truly lift this track and make it an immediate classic. Bowie’s backing vocals begin lightly and gently rise to a wonderful finish which has his voice match Scarlett’s in the lead, without taking over at any point. Apparently, Bowie, Johansson and Sitek are good friends, having worked together on previous projects – both Bowie and Johansson were in The Prestige with Christian Bale, while Sitek and Bowie worked together on TV on the Radio.

Anywhere I Lay My Head (from 1985’s Rain Dogs) is probably my favourite track on the album. You sway along to the tune and the chorus seems to sweep you into the music. Johansson’s multi-layered contralto voice is at its best here. It is followed by Fannin Street (2006’s Orphans) which is a song of regret, looking back over life’s mistakes and her voice is so perfect at selling the imagery that you forget she is only 24 years old. I can see a smoky bar and an aging band, led by a femme fatale and her glass of single malt whiskey, dreamily remembering her past.

Song For Jo is the only original track on the album and is written by Johansson and Sitek. This track is perhaps a hint that Johansson’s foray into the limelight of the music charts is not a one-off event. This is a strong track and although it lacks the punch of some of the other tracks on the album, it does have some dreamy qualities that shows the potential for something grander.

Green Grass is a track from the excellent Real Gone album from 2004 and I was destined to be critical of this track. It is from one of my first Tom Waits albums and an album I was particularly fond of. Green Grass is one of the poorer tracks on the Real Gone album and I am surprised to see Johansson choose it. She handles it admirably, but adds very little new. On future listens, I will skip forward to the next track.

I Wish I Was in New Orleans (1976’s Small Change) is perhaps the last great track on the album. Painting a picture of the streets of bourbon street, late at night as the music man plays his old wooden music box, clanging out a tune that sounds more like a demonic lullaby than any tune that would whisk a child off to sleep. The album’s general atmosphere is best summed up in this track which is a mixture of sadness and hope.

I Don’t Wanna Grow Up (1992’s Bone Machine) is immediately recognisable as a hit from the Ramones, so there is definitely additional pressure on Johansson and Sitek to pull out something special. Sadly, for me, this is the flattest track on the album. It is lifeless and feels like they knew they couldn’t make it better than either the original or the Ramones hit version, so they just threw something together. It’s a shame that this recognisable track should be the one to bring the album to a screeching halt.

I Don’t Wanna Grow Up is followed by No One Knows I’m Gone (from 2002’s Alice) and Who Are You (from 1992’s Bone Machine) and while both are better than their predecessors, neither reach the heights of quality attained earlier in the album.

Overall, this is more than a simple piece of curio – it is an album of great songs, preformed very well and arranged cleverly, and while I can’t see it hitting the bargain bins anytime soon, I certainly don’t see it reaching chart-topping heights.

But, of course, there’s no doubt that Johansson knew this early on. She chose to do an album of Tom Waits songs. She did not follow in the pop-princess heels of Lohan, Miley Cyrus or that other silly poppy ‘actress’/’singer’. The album was never likely to be a mainstream draw and if all we ultimately take from listening to it is that it is a fan’s tribute to an artist she really likes, then that’s not too bad.

I suspect this album will perform one service though – to introduce a number of new people to the incredible talents of Tom Waits. If that is this album’s legacy, then Johansson has plenty to be proud about.

Sidenote: How hot is Johansson? Does anyone want to see pics of Sitek, Bowie, Kinner? I doubt it!

Really feeling sick today. I wonder if it has anything to do with the family of spiders we just found living IN our kettle in work? 🙁

It seems the No campaign has finally got legs, a voice and a brain at last. I can understand how some can see the No campaign as nothing more than a few archaic parties more interested in putting a lid on this thing called the EU than in deciding what is best for this country. It is clear that many of the No campaigners are going about things the wrong way entirely (Sinn Féin and Libertas, I refer to you here), but that doesn’t mean they are ultimately wrong on Lisbon.

Independent TD, Finian McGrath, yesterday sent a letter to President Mary McAleese asking for her to call a Council of State to decide on the constitutionality of the Lisbon Treaty. Being that I am not a political aficionado, I didn’t know this was an option open to us. McGrath is suggesting that the Treaty goes against Article 9 of our own constitution, which states that fidelity to the Nation and loyalty to the State are fundamental political duties of all citizens. According to McGrath,

The Irish people need clarification on this matter. Lisbon would establish a supra-national European federation for the first time, and in effect establish a new State.

And it would seem that adding Article 28.4.11 to our Constitution would put EU Law and EU Treaties ahead of our own Constitution. We have already said No (Update: I refer here to Europe having said ‘No’. See comments below) to a Europe wide Constitution and we should now say No again, to this watered down stepping stone towards a single European State.

The President is put in a difficult situation here. Entertaining Finian McGrath’s request could send out a message to the People that Lisbon is unsound and could sway the vote towards a No, and this is not the job of the President’s Office. However, ignoring or rejecting his request sends out a clearer message that the President is endorsing the Treaty. It will be interesting to see what twist this takes in this ongoing saga.

Either way, McGrath is to be commended for being the one of the first people in the No campaign to do something constructive and criticise the Treaty not because it is too pro-Europe, but because it may be against our Constitution and ultimately anti-Ireland.

There is no reason why we can’t be loyal Irish people and also be part of Europe, but supplanting our Irish pride with a blind faith in Europe is not the way forward.

Side note: Bruce Arnold today replies to Minister Roche’s article in yesterday’s Independent. He rebukes everything Roche said. I don’t have much more to say on this except that the pair seem to be playing a bit of a tag-you’re-it game. They both made good arguments, while attempting to change the focus onto something their side can campaign for. Roche was right yesterday regarding the issue of taxation. Arnold is right today on the issues of the pressures the EU would be able to exert if the Treaty is ratified.

Previous Posts

5. Lisbon and Me – Roche’s Reactionary Rant

4. Lisbon and Me – Consequences

3. Political Apathy and a Yearning for Change

2. Lisbon and Me – Deciding The Future

1. Lisbon and Me

Finally, the dates and details of Tom Waits Irish gigs has been confirmed. He will be playing on July 30th and 31st and on August 1st (my birthday is the 2nd). It will be in the Rat Cellar in Phoenix Park tickets will go on sale at Tuesday 27th May at 9.00am. It’s fully seated, €116.25 and €131.25, which is a touch pricy to say the least.

But I’ll still be going! Wooohooo!

Here is one of my favourite Waits tracks, God’s Away on Business:

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skulls is Harrison Ford‘s fourth outing as the intrepid adventurer and takes place 19 years after the last movie, The Last Crusade, the time of the Nazis being replace by the Cold War era. This tale sees a weather-worn but not worn-out Indiana, team up with the rebellious Mutt Williams (Shia LaBeouf) and Indie’s long lost love from Raider of the Lost Ark, Marion Ravenwood (Karen Allen), in search of the answer to the enigmatic Crystal Skulls, while being chased by a group of Russia military types, led by Irina Spalko (Cate Blanchett).

Anyone who reads this blog should know fairly well that I am Mr Positivity. I am happy and cheery about almost everything and even the things that piss me off usually have the hint of a silver lining.

Let me tell you about the silver lining in Indiana Jones. It is a fun and funny movie. It’s an exciting thrill ride that plays out like a high octane computer game with impressive graphics. It has some great action sequences and a quality fist fight that hasn’t been seen in movies for a number of years.

Harrison Ford slips back into the role of the aging Indie with ease – it’s his role and he plays the wisecracking professor cum explorer brilliantly. Shia LaBeouf, formerly of Transformers, could be the next Tom Cruise (I mean this in a good way). He can pull off the action sequences (his sword fight with Cate Blanchett rivaled Bond’s fencing frenzy in Die Another Day) and he can definitely act (he pulled off a impression of James Dean without me cringing). John Hurt, as the former friend and colleague of Jones, turned mad by the Skulls, is excellent. He offers a tense and interesting character, who serves as a human map to the inevitable lost Kingdom.

That’s the silver lining. It’s a movie worth seeing for the many reasons listed above…and if you are an Indiana Jones fan and fully intend on seeing the movie, read no further than this.

The silver lining has a big black cloud. I’m sure I read somewhere over the past year that most of this movie was done without the overuse of computer generated imagery, that it was going old-school, using stunt men and huge set pieces. So why then, in this age of Transformers, Lord of the Rings, Iron Man and Superman Returns, do we have scenes in a major blockbuster movie that have such awful, woeful, pure unadulteratedly poor CG sequences.

I have no intention of giving away any spoilers in this review, but I feel I must warn you about one particular scene. Perhaps you could orchestrate a bathroom break around it, or maybe choose this scene to be extra affectionate towards your partner. In a CG laden car chase that at times resembles Toy Story in it’s cartoon-like scenery, LaBeouf is caught up in some vine which sends him hurtling into the trees. In the trees he meets some cute little monkeys (if the monkeys are CG, they are quite impressive). The monkeys begin swinging from tree to tree, so LaBeouf decides he can do the same. Now, this is a leave-your-brain-at-the-door action movie, so swinging from tree to tree is not unfathomable, but the shockingly poor CG characters swinging through a cartoon landscape actually embarrassed me – I put my head into my hands while watching (as I type, I am red faced). I find it hard to believe that Spielberg and Lucas could not see the awfulness of this scene (and some others) and then to do nothing about it… I can only assume that they saw the problem but decided not to rectify it, as surely only kids will watch this movie.

Even before the media campaign for this movie started, I was deeply concerned about Blanchett being cast as the bad guy, a Russian (I think, but she may have been French or German) who either has psychic power or wants psychic powers, I couldn’t really tell. I like Cate Blanchett. She is a fine actress and deserves many of the accolades awarded to her, but as the Indiana Jones nemesis, she was distressingly cheesy, over the top and very difficult to watch – her accent was worse than Richard Gere’s Irish accent in the Jackal. I know these movies are known for being OTT at times, but she became very grating very soon.

Ray Winstone, too, a fine actor, who I have loved in many movies, played the role that many hundreds of people have played before, the bumbling buffoon of questionable loyalties. Do you remember The Mummy and the jester in that who tried to steal all the gold whenever he could? Picture him, make him English, add some fat, and voila, Ray Winstone in Indiana Jones.

The only good thing that can be said for the opening few scenes of the movie (in which he survives a nuclear explosion by hiding in a fridge) is that it could only get better from there. And it did. This is by no means a bad movie, it’s just not a great one either.

The storyline isn’t bad. It ranks along side the other Indie movies and escalates the more mysterious sides of history, just as each movie did before it. The eventual payoff however is let down by that which precedes it. The climax is epic, if a touch obvious, and would be a good way to finish the series (although I believe there is already rumours of two more movies).

And then the very final scene is jaw-droppingly poor and should either be removed from the movie, or given an additional comic payoff that was heavily lacking. I wonder if, like Iron Man, there might be an additional scene added when it goes on full release (May 22^nd).

Go see it if you’re a fan. It really is good fun and has some great action sequences, but don’t go expecting it to be better than the previous Jones outings. One of the reviewers said it meets expectations but doesn’t exceed them. I think they were being kind. I think it’s time for Indie to hang up his hat for good.

Sidenote: Ray Foley is on the radio now slagging off Rick O’Shea’s introduction of the movie in the Savoy last night. 🙂

I don’t think there’s a man on this planet who can say he didn’t find Jessica Rabitt sexy. Look at her, she’s gorgeous:

Just when you thought she couldn’t get any sexier, Pixeloo has brought Jessica Rabbit to life: