Internet Cafes are a Tourist's Disease

2004-07-25 - 9:15 p.m.

Glad you liked the postcard.

I left the farm yesterday and headed up for Cork, finding it much less quaint than I had hoped for. (heh.) I suppose Galway would have been fun, but that stupid ass American bitch from Seattle was headed up there when I left. I never really thought about going to it anyway, though.

One of the people who lives on the farm (but didn't work for it, its sort of a weird arrangement they have going there, but really cool), Flick (Felicity), is a classically trained violinist learning the fiddle at the time (like you!, right?) and joined a band recently. We saw her play in Sneem House, which seemed to be the one-stop everything for Sneem: small pharmacy, cigarettes, candy, beer (boxes of cans in a fridge), pub (on tap...you see the distinction here), AND...gas station. It was a lot of fun, except for the fact that that stupid ass American bitch from Seattle was there. So yeah, live music.

In Cork, it seems a little difficult to find something like a genuine band, let alone a genuine soul. Coming here was a huge downer as I suddenly found all the dirt all over my body which had nicely settled in and found itself in good company on the farm suddenly out of place, and was drawn to shower immediately. I felt uncomfortable in my unclogged pores and shiny fingernails. I still do, and am not sure whether I have felt this way all my life? Hmmm...

Now in this busy town I find myself in these internet cafe's quite frequently (there's a really nice one with this relaxing music and plush chairs that gently whisper 'just stay a little longer...it feels so good doesn't it?')

and walking around and touring. I brought myself to Cobh today and was pleasantly refreshed. 75c museum about Spike Island and the Lusitania nicely done, HUGE church, apparently with the biggest carillon in all of Ireland and the UK, graves of the Lusitania and Titanic this and that. I felt like I should have gone somewhere and shouted 'PROTESTANTS RULE!' and ran away.

Man this is getting long, isn't it? I think I should adapt this to a diaryland entry. In fact, I will. Or maybe I won't and title it 'an email to Jean Fitzgerald, the original unoriginal.' Or maybe I'll call it 'bored off my ass in Cork.' I like that one better. It doesn't exploit you.

Okay, I'm going to quit with the type type typing. Hope this email finds you well.

Bob

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