Whoa hooo I feel ya now buddy!!!!

PONYTAIL PETE……………………… GOD BLESS YA .. i FEEL YE NOW ,,,,Thanks….Phew….i wondered what it could all mean .. and now you came to me and you came with clarity….

Bless yr pointed little head035

 

 

I shall continue to do my best !!!!

Thank you Pete for your dreamworld conversation and my juicy life ,cause  it’s soooosweet

 

thanks for clinking in

always eileen….043

 

 

 

How far away I am from myself….?

Of late, I’ve wanted to expel the dizzy unrest I’ve felt.

I want to explain it to myself,  to remove it or extrapolate and let it stand outside my being in order to pull out the hurt and bump up my frailty. I suppose it’s an okay thing to do. It’s human enough to shift blame. To reason out the why’s of an action. It’s …natural, I guess.

And I am guessing because… because though I wrote my angst and felt , oh so much more on top of things, at that moment anyway….I’m thinking more and more about what has not been said, the things I’ve not been able to explain, either to you , or more importantly, to myself..

018

 

And it’s not going to come easy or quick. I can tell.

I have to sit with myself now and just…rest. I guess. 031

That seems to be the most likely way to let truth surface.

i dreamed of old friends last night. Dead guitar players, playing with me in hell holes for pennies….. for 9 euro… that’s what Ponytail Pete told me. And we were playing in a basement on the side of a cliff or a mud slide… it was gruesome but…what I can I say, it felt cool.

Ah Pete..you don’t need to play for me anymore… you shouldn’t play for nothing. Not any more   Playing…just the thing of playing .. of turning out…..no…. you don’t have to do those gigs ….setting up in a hell….singing for slave wages….we don’t have to do that anymore.

ah Pete……..thanks telling me that. Thanks for showing me the raw… the unloved….the pity…

I had been thinking about the gigs to come in 2015 and here you show me what  might be… what could be…what once was…….

Pete… go find my brother John

He knew something of dark.. like you did.

Go find my Captian Dermot….he knew the dark as well

Go find my dog… she loved you too.

Pete …  cheers… my guitar player… cheers… one of a few men who sat beside me and sank into the groove…..You…..Jimmy Faye  of course… he was first… the first guitar player… the first to go as well…. but you… you don’t need to play the caves or the mines with me… not any more.

 

054who does one thank when you’re talking to a ghost?

 

always eileen

 

No … and Letting Go

We’re shedding here.  It’s a good thing.  I realise how little control I have in the shedding and how much control I have in the layers that leave.

 

029Each of these layers left by surprise. Each death, each birth, the writings of the year and the tears of memory quaked something cellular. Broke me into a new beginning.

Now Black John has made transition. I sat with his family and saw him in each of their eyes,each twinkle, each turn of a phrase. I saw that he was still whole in them.and still whole in me.

I’m glad to have seen these moments.. It became a cooling of frayed nerves as the present becomes memory, quick as the ink dries. Grief is not so lasting as it is simply a cord to a relic, remarkable and striking as it moves our memory into significance beyond tears.

Of course, there is more going on outside of those I mourn.

I have become demonized this year. That’s good too. And here I feel the long arm of Black John move my pen and mind, my heart widened to embrace more love for me and less attraction to those who chose agitation for entertainment.

…… If I am to be called insensitive for saying NO to having had my shoulder worn down to the bone from years of being cried upon then so be it…….  If  I’m to be labeled a bully for saying NO to the alliance of the narcissist’s victimhood, then cutting my hair just makes room for my horns.

NO

And when the NO’s started coming, there were the others, mutual friends, who listened to the story of my so called “bad behavior” and were never curious enough to ask me for my side of the tale. I have only one thing to say…………

NO

I said NO often in 2014. It’s as if I never used the word before.

IMG_0001 I am a demon now.

Good.

Be warned.

This year is ending and with it an innocence that has shrunk. It is wet and clinging….damp wool…..  watery pink plastic ….strands of niceness unnecessary but grasped unto for pity’s sake, for protection from fear of a hard cold shock. This tattered form of innocence can now be easily to flicked away with a most definite…..

NO .

003 Then why say thank you?  034

Because I’m shedding layers and I couldn’t have done it without these deaths.

These deaths both the physical deaths of friends and emotional deaths of those to whom I have said NO……They who are still living, I need not name……( I did last night and felt release, but this morning I know that it isn’t necessary to have their names be read, it was just enough to I wrote them down once. In this dull December morning light as I edit this blog, I understand that keeping their names on the page is tantamount to blowing on the flames I want to put out.)

But then ahh…… those who make my throat clutch and my eyes sting …This is the list that needs to read…… .My dog Puppydog the Best dog in Town……….

My last and final mentor Dermot Healy………. …….

My Uncle John Godkin whose job was to carry me from Ireland to Canada……

Black John Martin my spiritual lover, buddy and friend. The catalyst for Sunshine Bites.

Thanks for coming to me, and staying and thanks for leaving. I am so grateful.

To those who might read this…. Ach.. What year huh……..

Thanks for clicking in. May your eyes be soothed, may your heart find rest.

Next year?…Well I hope my writing is not so flowery and more to the point. It can only get better ( ah sure that not necessarily true but you know what I mean…. ! )

So…, now…. I feel more like… I dunno….. perhaps….me  ?

Cheers

always eileen

 

 

 

 

 

A Smile is a Curious Thing………..

selfie with yello primrosesIt elevates… energies….All the muscular necessities for maintaining a healthy disposition regardless of the whirling demons around.

When you smile from your eyes, as all good models do,you sweep the world your way.

So now I’m thinking of my dear friends, ( you can think of yours) who allow me… make me…compell me to smile with my true smile. Raising my heart (cracked again, but not bleeding), raising her up and away from this current of personal pollution.

And lo, but it has been a year to remember.  I shall not forgot the paths made by friends who married  or children born or songs sung as I shall not forgot the pain of loss and the triple edge of memory with its the slicing betrayal.

And its’ only fucking October…………….well……at least it’s October. Soon we’ll go into the 52 days of darkness of winter, of much needed rest.. ( I hope..I think I hope )……

 

I do believe I need more reflection

Pictures 2012 463thanks for clicking in

always-eileen

x

 

 

Biting my Tongue….or Saying it as it is.

Ah yes.. what to do, what to write, when you’ve been betrayed?

Nervous yet, old leiverd?

IMG_8065

 

 

 

 

I wonder…..

                                                                  BAFF !………

                                                                          I am finished wondering about you.

July Days 2014…

July 27th, 2014

On meeting Liz Marshall after 25 years.

 

Whoa.. her presence .!!!!!

As a vibrant, funny, insightful and keen as she was when we first met….she, a 12 year old child .

Her movie ‘ The Ghost in Our Machines’  was being debuted in Dublin through the invitation of Vegan Ireland. It is a poignant and beautiful experience.

Bob Wiseman’s sound  track to the film is masterful.

 

Liz has a great presence. Easy and effervescent. Intelligent and soulful .

And still a great beauty. 45 years of age and not a wrinkle on her brow.

Significant springs to mind. And a fascinating tumble down memory lane to the times when I was in my 20′s and she was in her teens and we fell under the spell a snake,         a conniving charmer, an egotist of the highest degree.

All in the name of the theatre. All down the path of Art,

…………………………………………………What of it…………………………………………..

It’s a long long time now…. we know who we were then… we know who we are now….

We are  still standing………………………………..

thanks for clicking in

 

always eileen

lizmars.com

www.theghostsinourmachine.com

www.bobwiseman.ca

https://www.facebook.com/VeganIreland

 

 

 

 

 

 

July Days 2014

July 28th 2014

I had some Dublin Days in July…

……in Grogan’s I met a man I had never met before named Ben Dwyer. Classical guitarist, composer, professor.   We talked about the Writer who recently died… About a project around the Sheela na gig…About practising our instruments.

I walked away from him towards to Accent Cafe, to an audience I had never played to before, in a place I had never been before.

These days are fresh in a familiar way.    Unadorned but crystal clear.

Makes me wonder about whether I’ll ever replace those lost glasses.bright sunthru a gate

Resistance Lowering Machine

Between two buidlings, a bridgesunset mar 3 2013 004 (1)

 

Ahhh, easy to read. I know where I’d like to end up…January 2015

 

Oct Nov 2012 127.……………………………………………………………………..and here……………………..

Pictures 2012 260……………………and with her…..them…………………………there……………

 

thanks for clicking in

Always Eileen

 

Resistance Lowering Machine

 

 

When a good writer dies….

“Since I began to

Look up at your psalm

All of the instruments

Have turned into birds……”

Dermot Healy died on June 29th 2014.

A woman call me earlier that afternoon just to talk about him.

I hadn’t seen Dermot since April. I couldn’t tell her anything. She was so distraught it was annoying, if she wanted to speak to him she should just pick up the phone.She was no stranger to him, he worked with her on a book of her poetry, he wrote a beautiful introduction for it, the book was published this year by a London press….she had his phone number. She called me instead.

I was working. Had a writing deadline of my own. Had two writing deadline on the same day. But everything was fine, everything was in hand. Fifty pages of a new novel was just about ready, a few tiny details to add or remove, the competition deadline was Monday 30th June……The second deadline was a new script development for a New York/Irish company. Same deal… tiny details to be added or removed… as a friend/editor said to me, ” Revision is a miraculous process.”  And it’s true.   So…   Two pieces . The play was based on the first chapter of the novel. The novel  begun as a collection of short stories. Dermot Healy read these stories and told me to write the book. He told me he didn’t want to see it until it was finished.

Everything was finished on Sunday night. I took a breath and check my messages. Dermot Healy had died at approximately 9pm Sunday night.

When a good writer dies……

When a good teacher dies…

When a good mentor dies….

When a good friend dies…

…..it’s so fuck eh.Garden flowers 050 thanks for clicking in

 

always eileen

Blowing the Shadows Away

April Pictures 2012 093

 

Ireland has had a major breakthrough in national,local and European elections.

The public has decided to bring in fresher, independant faces that aren’t tied to the political parties of the old, elite schools.

I hardly thought that it would happen.

This country has felt very conservative to me and throughout the past 14 years I’ve watched, with my mouth slightly hung open at the passive stance that most people shared while the Ruling Others blatantly rape our natural resources, our heritage, our civil liberties and self esteem.

……………………..Now a new wind is blowing………………………………..

And it feels,

…Sea Driven………Earth Bound………………and Compatible.

It feel….. Harmonic.

 

May -France Pictures 2012 057

Alright then.

 

Thanks for clicking in.

Always Eileen