Dave turned 23 last weekend. It was Friday night and I was three sheets to the wind, sitting cross legged on the floor of a colleague’s bedroom with a handful of workmates, listening to music and getting ready to head to some tropical-themed party across town. Dave called and told me to head to his flat, as everybody was there. He asked me to bring some drinks but the signal was bad; all I could really make out was that he wanted me to come over. Continue reading
Drink, Play, Loathe: Day 7.5, Venice After Dark
Yesterday was a strange point in my journey. Countries are flicking past so quickly it’s disorientating. I woke up in Venice yesterday morning, I had dinner with friends in Berlin last night, and right now, the morning after, I’m above the clouds on the way to Latvia. This is my fifth flight this week. Continue reading
Hey hey I had the most brilliant birthday and I’ve got to tell you about it while it’s fresh now and before a single blip of it is lost in the dank recesses of my memory because it was all so wonderful and I don’t wanna forget any of it. No time for mincing words, come on come on come on, let’s GO! Continue reading
Drink, Play, Loathe: Day 7, Venice by Sunlight
It’s 11pm and my last night in Venice has been spent in the hostel bar, after a lonesome meal by the canal on a candlelit terrace, where the waiter felt sorry for me and gave me free wine, with a wink. I was extremely humbled and grateful until the bill came and I found I’d been given free wine but charged 4 euros for a glass of tap water. Bastardo.
I was hoping to meet the Toronto girls from yesterday and chill, but they’ve gone to the opera. I had a look at tickets and they were around 40 each, so no. Instead, I sat myself at a central table in the hostel bar and nursed a beer, my eyes roving around the bar for a friendly face. A group of Spaniards in animated chatter, no; a rabble of droopy eyed Englishmen all attempting to charm the same one American girl, no; a middle aged Chinese couple knotted up in each other on the sofa, no. So that’s the kind of evening it was to be, then. I began to unpack my bag with a sigh, reaching for Kafka, my most loyal friend of late; a twisted, morbid companion, but a companion nonetheless.
‘How’s it going, mate?’ Continue reading
Drink, Play, Loathe: Day 6, Venice by Moonlight
Got up early, quickly dressed and escaped the snoring, smelly dorm, and skipped breakfast; no time and no money anyway. I’d arrived in Venice under darkness, and stepping outside and seeing the city in the daylight was a true and rare joy, one of those moments in life where you actually stop and say ‘whoa’ out loud, even though there’s nobody around. I kicked through the hostel doors with a yawn and a stretch, and I was greeted by the bluest lazy waters, easy young skies in a cirrus haze, majestic old buildings and barnacle clinging docks. Oh fuck yes, what a day. Continue reading
Drink, Play, Loathe: Day 5, Barce-Loner
Awoke alone and lay cosy in the dorm a while. Dragged myself to get ready, checked out and caught the bus across the city to Park Güell, as I wanted to catch the views in the midday sun. Entrance to the park’s centre is ticketed, and I was given a slot around midday. To kill time, I hiked up the hill behind the park and sat in the sun enjoying magnificent views of the city, it’s soft edge square blocks of rooftops and terraces, viridescent mountaintops beyond, and at the end of it all, sparkling ocean merging with the horizon. Continue reading
Woke up from last night’s ‘nap’ at 8am. Had horny dreams and woke up humping the mattress, on the top bunk in a dorm full of strangers. Ugh.
Hey, not written one of these in weeks. So, to get back into the swing, what’s the most pretentious and annoying way to begin this article? Like this!
A way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs. Continue reading
Drink, Play, Loathe: Day 3.5, Paris
Yeah, I know I’m a few days later than I said I’d be in posting this. Shut yer cake hole and play this:
Right-o. Continue reading
Drink, Play, Loathe – Day 3, Paris
Note from present Dan: The following happened on the same evening as the previous article. However, I felt it best to split the day into two sections, as my life/death contemplations earlier in the afternoon didn’t seem to mesh very well with the vomiting and aggressive dry humping that occurred later that evening. Continue reading