I used to have the unbridled joy of getting a nice bus to work in the mornings. It was a delightful journey, passing up George's Street, through Camden Street, Terenure, Templeogue and the leafy 'burbs. On a sunny day the birds would flock to the window and nuzzle up against them, poking chewy toffees through the window for the smiling passengers to nibble on. The driver would pat me gently on the behind as I swooshed past him to take my seat.
I no longer get that bus.
Thanks to moving house (admittedly my meals have improved considerably since I moved in with my expert chef girlfriend Sinead) I now must ride a darker beastie altogether. This is a bus that farts and belches its way through the ominously stinkier parts of Baile Atha Cliath. It's grim grim grim all the way to my destination and often features the kind of Neanderthal, staring primates you are surely all too familiar with. These are the ones who are genetically predisposed to chatting to you if it's just you and them upstairs. Earphones are a 'please talk to me' distress signal. They shift in their seats, looking into everyone's po-faced fisogs, playing tinny techno from their phones and hoping you will say something/anything to them.
Christ it's like school sometimes.
Today I got the gimp in the seat in front who turned fully around, on a packed bus, to eyeball myself and my seat mate. I played the 'looking intently out the window' game expertly. Usually these fiends jump off the bus as quickly as they have jumped on and invariably you see them running nimbly from the bus when they alight - there's always some pressing engagement they've been yapping loudly about on their phones before disembarking.
Anyway, I shouldn't bang on too much. Nothing has happened yet, but I could be just a stare away..
In other news, check out Christopher Hitchens getting waterboarded for a Vanity Fair piece. Disagree as I may with some of Hitchens' political views, the man is a wonderfully intellectual writer with a scary knowledge of history and a formidable constitution for the sauce. I'm reading his 'God is not Great' book at the moment, hence the mention.
In Big Brother news, for a change, the blind guy is a nightmare. Like a creepy Billy Connolly with a lobotomy and disguised as a student from 1992.
Also, do not go see Kung Fu Panda. Peddling a message that obese fantasists can achieve anything they want if they only belieeeeeeeve strong enough? To kids? Blaaaarrrrggggg, give them Spongebob or Fairly Odd Parents over this, anyday of the week. That aside, it just ain't funny or clever in the Toy Story/Monsters Inc kind of way.
And finally, check out the Oxegen previews - and indeed my own preview of the New Band Stage for the weekend - over at drop-d
Sorry for this splurge of a post. I'm sure there's more to mention that I've left out. Here's a bit of Denmark's Trentemoller anyway. Get his Chronicles discs. Nice dab of glitchy, minimal techno.
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2 comments:
sorry- this has nothing to do with buses but you mentioned a while back that you would like a copy of my mix. I'm posting them tomorrow so can you mail me a postal address to scrappyred@gmail.com and I'll be sure to send you a copy.
BAHAHAHAHAHAHA Mikey from big brother. my mother (who is 63) just stares at it in slack jawed horror every night. "he's a horrid yoke isn't he?" she said, "and that other fella, the big lug. Ugh, i can't stand him." A good judge of character is my ma.
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