Every so often something happens that provokes a near-LSD like mental self-examination of what you're doing with yourself overall in life... or maybe just that day. I'd been out snapping pix of a couple of gafs in the two-digit postcode northern surbubs, tut-tutting about the general dereliction. The improving weather will hopefully mean improving regularity of posting here by the way (dont bet your house on it though). So there I was anyway minding my own business (if you call photographing other people's property minding one's own business), when next thing a part of one of my teeth fell out onto my tongue. Straight out of the blue. No warning whatsoever. I found myself looking in the wing mirror of a parked car to see the damage. And then it hit me - maybe this was some sort of evil karma coming back on me, that for the exposure of the derelict gafs around the city - ye gods were to spite me and turn my body to a crumbling, disintegrating mess. Just like the houses I'd been snooping around in. For a couple of days after this weekend this niggling paranoia persisted. Any ache or slight pain was ran through a roller coaster of potential catastrophic outcomes, from kidney failure to cancer to any type of STI I'd ever heard of. I was getting turned into a derelict house myself.Bizarrely enough as well in the last two weeks, Superquinn continually appeared in some shape or form in my life. I rewatched Des Bishop's RTE series on DVD of him working in shit low paid jobs in Ireland - one of which was in Superquinn in Dundalk. An abandoned scorch-marked trolley from Superquinn keeps popping up in the laneway behind my house and in different places around the estate - even though there isnt a Superquinn for miles where I live. My current dark-skinned latina lover has the misfortune to work at the "Protein Counter" (i.e. meat+fish) in said supermarket. And to top it all off, on the day of the broken tooth, we came across this gem right at the junction of Sutton Cross - right next to the back entrance to, of course, Superquinn. What do you suppose it all means? Is Feargal Quinn employing some sort of cosmic energy to align these events as to make me change my usual Lidl, Tesco, and Dunnes habits? Are the pallets stacked in the back garden of this house belonging to the supermarket - or just happen to be there by random chance? And does anyone know a good cheap dentist?
2 comments:
Where have you gone? Don't stop! This will spread slowly but surely. You are doing a service to the community here, honestly. I'm blogging you today even as other Irish bloggers have.
Very entertaining! Come back and do some more!!
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