He works in a small town and decides he's got a voice and wants to be an artist. Things the kid wants to do, things the kid wants to say. Most nights he drinks to stop him thinking and hopes to sleep but can never quite get there. Some voice, some emotional turmoil, something wrong… Continue reading Notes on the real artist.
We got there around nine. Tullamore Hotel.There was a band starting in a while, Rualie Buaile they were called. "Supposed to be mighty." Few people in. There was stools in the corner. Took them. Another couple landed. Him with tattoos and an orange T-shirt and a pint of lager. Her with a red wine, black… Continue reading Ruaile Buaile in Tullamore