Meeting new people...

Meeting people is easy, it's getting away from people that's hard. Take last weekend for example. I climbed Bray head to get the hell away from people who kept talking while I was around. So I climb all the way up there in the stinging cold wintery winds and finally I reach the cross at the top.

So I'm feeling slightly religious cause it's a cross and the clouds suddenly break and a ray of sunlight lances the sky, right onto my outstretched hand. So I say a little prayer and hope for the best of things.

Next thing I know an old granny is hobbling over to maybe hug me or somehow get in my face. So I curse the sunlight for revealing my position and tackle the oldster to the ground. With a fresh mouthful of grass and dirt she wasn't going to try to convert anyone that day, least of all me. I feel I let her off lightly and should perhaps have thrown her down at one of the fishing boats who dared blare their fog horn as I was praying. I didn't and she lives to see another day.

This is perhaps a simplification but I think it underlines just how serious I am about being alone. It takes me five or six well thrown pints to be given space in a pub, any day of the week, any week of the year.

You can whine or you can pitch a tent. It you pitch a tent make sure it's not in a valley and you're ready for anything, namely bears. I'd tell you the story of my run-in with a bunch of black bears but you're a little too young and a little too scared right now.

Perhaps another day.

Originally posted by Iron Petes
This sounds to me like a common-garden industrial accident and not the behaviour of a misanthropic reprobate. Did this mishap affect your crow-nesting abilities?

A man can't make crows nests with an injury like that, it's just not possible.
I warned you all about asking what happened next and you're just askin' for trouble when you tempt a tiger. But, and this but comes with a slice of cake, I'll do the tellin' if you do the listenin'.

I left my job as a crows-nester within the week cause I was sick of all the glances and the careless words. A man like me is never easy in a crowd, I need my space and I want my circle of friends to be a semi-circle at best. So it was by fluke that I started my career as a photo carrier. I would take photos from polaroid instamatics and carry them from the camera to where ever the owner was. I was the first form of remote control and god damn it I was proud. Proud to be alone again and proud of my fast-healing fist.

I got the job by application. It was the only way back then, never easy and always a worry. As you all know photo-carriers can't work after midnight cause of the god damn labour laws so I was pretty surpised to find myself employed at 1:30am on the first Monday of a new week.

'Damn these employers to hell' I thought and ditched the gig cause there's no way I break a law, not for Jesus, not even for Einstein.

Then TV came along and I'm pushing buttons all over the place and pretty soon I find that people are jumpin' when I'm talkin'. So I start thinkin' that maybe there's something in this TV lark and maybe I should get on stage and perhaps act my god damn heart out. I'm thinkin' on TV people will leave me alone....I was wrong.

You can't row a boat with two legs overboard. My mother told me and my father scolded me, both were right about two things. Never bait a priest with some bible stories and never melt another man's igloo.

I'm sick of your questions now. Can't ya leave a man alone?