Wednesday, July 8, 2009

For it is we who see the deep...

Derry. It was a farewell of sorts, because I empathize more with Derry than most other places I've been. Derry, to a degree, is an outsider, existing between places. Derry is more Irish than British, more Industrial than Countryside, but none of those things all at once. As I've had this sort of self-image of myself over the course of years as straddling many lines, whether it be actualized or not, I feel kinship with Derry not just as a place but as an entity. I think I've babbled enough about my attraction to the city already though, so I'll move on.

We made some friends at the hostel, our Aussie friends Shannon and Damien, our Canadian friend Lachlan, and they were fantastic people that I'd love to travel with, or hang out with, or have visit. Ruairi is someone who'd be welcome in my home anytime, a fantastic specimen of humanity. I spent a fair amount of time with Ruairi, discussing the finer points of where to find a decent cup of coffee, the politics of humanity and the struggle of peace around the world, as well as which girls he'd have the best luck with in a particular tour group. We hung out at Pedar O'Donnells, I stole a beer coaster that had a painting of the bar front on one side as a memento, I bought a badge to show solidarity with Free Derry, and I drank more than a few pints. I talked politics, romance and philosophies of varying kinds with varying people from varying countries and it was gloriously beautiful.

And it gave us a chance to rest up, to get our minds in order. I caught a hot streak, finished one short story and began something entirely different. Zoe overcame literary hurdles of her own, and as always, with every breath we learned something new about ourselves, we made steps forward in passing through our own illusions, and we found that we only get deeper into sympatico with each other. I also apparently have taken to rambling, run-on sentences.

So now I'm in London, which is far beyond exciting. I knew so very little about Ireland, beyond that I loved their booze, their music and their stories. But London, this is a place that is a living thing in my mind. I have visions of London from books, from comics, from music and movies and all these things, but I've never actually been here. And now that I'm here, now that I've seen only a fraction of it, I'm giddy. I feel effervescent and alive, riding the Underground, recognizing all these names and finally able to understand them in a properly tactile fashion.

I hadn't meant to post, but I was reminded that it had been a while. I'm never sure if I'm making sense, or even whether it really matters, whether I should write for myself or aim at an audience.

1 comment:

  1. You write so beautifully. Keep writing for yourself though, and the audience will be delighted. The personal becomes universal, eh?