I’m back, Folks.
I don’t feel that jet lagged but I don’t know. Part of me thinks I’m sleeping right now. Like, when I’m writing this. I may be. Reality has become tenuous and my perception is all I know and I may be asleep right now. Jet lagged.
I have to say I still love Ireland more than almost anywhere on the planet and I don’t have any Irish in me, sadly. As much as I had hoped for some. And you would think a person like me, whether I show it or not, who is a bit needy wouldn’t love the Irish people as much as I do. The last thing the Irish are going to do is heap any unwarranted praise on anyone. Or much praise at all. I know I’m generalizing but it is the vibe I get. They’ll effortlessly take you down a notch without you even feeling it at first. It’s a beautiful skill. If I’m honest, that is what I do to myself inside all the time. So, it makes sense. I feel the Irish understand me in a very personal way because they are like my inner voice.
Here’s a very short play I wrote based on a real experience I had in Ireland when I arrived and stepped up to the customs agent and handed him my passport:
(I had him my passport)
Customs Agent: What are you doing in Ireland?
Me: I’m doing a stand-up show at Vicar Street.
(he’s looking at my passport)
Customs Agent: I’ve never heard of ya.
Me: That’s fine.
(he stamps my passport)
I think I’m going to write more plays.
I was in Dublin for a few days and just by coincidence my old friend Jim Loftus was there as well. Jim is one of my best friends and we just don’t see each other that much. It’s important to see old friends. Especially the ones that really know you and get you. There’s nothing better as an old man now to hang out with a friend you’ve known for almost forty years and when you do you just pick right up where you left off. No weirdness. No distance. Sometimes it takes a few minutes to get back into that old groove but it comes if you give it some time. I suggest allotting a few hours, at least three, and at least one meal to really get back to it and do the deep friend work. We rented a car a drove to Glendalough about an hour outside of Dublin. Old cemetery, old church, a bog, sheep, mountains and grass. Stunning. We walked and talked and ate at an old Irish restaurant and got it all covered. Had some laughs, moved through some time. Beautiful.
I really don’t know where the Irish would be if their country wasn’t so fucking beautiful to counterbalance their generally slightly dark but passionate disposition.
The food in Dublin is just so fucking good. I had some of the best meals of my life there. No shit. There’s something about the produce, fish and meat there that is transcendent. The bread, damn. So good. Oh, and the butter. Crazy. The places I went were just amazing: The Winding Stair, The Pig’s Ear and Ely’s Wine Café. Great. The Wicklow Heather Restaurant up near Glendalough was pretty great too. Food is good.
Thanks to all the folks that came out Vicar Street for the show. It was a great one for me.
Today I talk to actress Christina Hendricks about her journey through Mad Men and her new show Good Girls. On Thursday I talk to Mark Arm from the band Mudhoney about rock life and the Seattle thing. Good talks!
Enjoy!
Boomer lives!
Love,
Maron