The Man with no Friends

Tag: friends

THE BOY WHO SOLD ME A POEM

I was in town today. I popped in to see if any of the local record shops had gotten in some good vinyl and on my way I decided to check out the Oxfam Shop in Parliment Street. While I was walking up the quays just before Capel Street bridge I noticed a  sign outside a pub which read , ” Rooftop Market”. I went in and climbed up a flight of stairs and found myself  in an  empty room with paintings on the walls. It was a bit like something out of Dickens , very old , dark with a fire burning in an old-fashioned fireplace and what I think was a bar just inside the door. Beyond that it was just an empty room. Off that room on the right was another smaller room with about 7 or 8 stalls selling jewelry and brick- a -brack.  – –  And there he was. A young boy/youth  sitting behind a table upon which sat a little red typewriter and a little notice to say that he was selling poems. I don’t know how old he was , perhaps 16 or thereabouts. I’m very bad at judging age but to me he seemed just a boy. I had wandered  in there hoping there might be some old records and as I didn’t see any I left and went on my way. I managed to pick up a copy of  Louis Stewart’s  Louis The First ( I already have 4 or 5 copies of the LP) and a couple of Columbia silver/white labels which are quite collectible. I was going to go straight home at this point when I thought about the boy selling the poems so I went back to the Rooftop Market and there he was sitting there behind his little table with the red typewriter in from of  him. I told him I had a blog called The Man With No Friends and he just smiled and said , “I’m sorry”. I told him I wanted a poem for my blog and he asked did I want it dedicated to anyone. I said it was for no one in particular , just for my blog. Without hesitating he started to type. He had long delicate looking fingers  and with these he proceeded to peck at the typewriter. Peck , peck , peck……The other stall holders looked at him as he worked and it was very quiet apart from the peck , peck peck of his little  machine. Three minute later he handed me a poem and I gave him 10 euros……

When I got home I made a cup of coffee and put on my Louis Stewart record then sat down and  took out the poem. Here  it is just as it was written…….

The Man with No Friends

For nobody.

 

He walks alone,

Untouched by the physical,

The shrieks and cries of the world,

Wash over him like yet another rain storm,

Yet another blizzard.

 

Still , onwards , he walks,

Company in the rhythm of his steps,

His thoughts and feelings

Broadcast across the internet,

Picked up by fellow travelers,

Weary of their interaction.

 

The young poets name is  Stephen Clare. I quite like this little poem. It is not perfect but considering the circumstance its not bad at all…..in fact it is rather good. I like the idea of a young man/boy sitting  behind his old-school portable typewriter in an old room in an old house selling poems to passing strangers. It gives  me hope that the world has not entirely gone to hell……. So there you are , you never know what the day holds , what little adventures awaits you…

 

My Sad Little Garden

Here are some images of my garden. I have been out of action for a couple of weeks as my laptop was in the repair shop but now I’m back………more garden 005
more garden 002
more garden 008
more garden 003
more garden 010

 

 

SMOKING IS GOOD FOR YOU

I have no friends. They are all dead. I only ever had a very few friends and that was all I wanted but they are all dead now. Before they popped their clogs they were forever warning me about my smokers cough. I have a more or less permanent smokers cough and I’ve had it for years. If I had a euro for ever time I coughed I would be a very wealthy man. But I AM still alive. And like I say , all my friends are dead.  Facts is facts as the man said and you can’t argue with facts and the fact is that I am still alive. I may be old sad unwanted neglected but I’m still alive –

I sleep on the floor. I live in a one room flat and there really isn’t room for a bed so I sleep on the floor. I actually sleep quite well , I have always slept well – this is a blessing in itself. But , like I say I don’t have a bed.  When I’m lying on the floor at night I always have four or five roll-ups ready to smoke and I smoke these  and cough  until  I fall asleep. In the morning I get up , make a cup of coffee and smoke several more roll-ups and have a good cough. I then go about my business  smoking and coughing  my way through the day  -and it hasn’t killed me yet. I’m still here. I’m still living. So there you are. You can’t argue with the facts.

It’s raining in Dublin today. It’s a miserable wet dull day and I’m sitting here typing this out…..I’m waiting for something to happen , something interesting that I can write about in my blog but nothing ever happens. Day after day after day and nothing happens……Nothing.  I’m like a character out of  a  Beckett play.  -” Nothing to be said”   My little valve radio is on in the background but I’m not really listening. It wasn’t always like this. I used to have a life. I used to be young. Now I’m old alone forgotten…….I have just now rolled another cigarette. God bless all smokers. They are the only sane people left in the world. Smoking is good for you , it’s good for the head.  Oh , right now , just this minute  I heard the announcer on the radio say that Pete Seeger has  just died at the age of 94. He didn’t smoke. And now he is dead. He was a legend in his day. I have been a fan of his since the sixties. Sad news. And to the best of my knowledge he never smoked a fag in his life.

Tobacco is good for you. It makes your hair grow. I’ve always had a good head of hair and so did my father and he smoked a pipe all his life. In the old days  everyone smoked. The stars of the silver screen , they all smoked and they  managed to look sexy doing it. The good old days ? Now it’s all clean air and political correctness.  Landlord culture / X Factor culture……and hate crimes. You can be arrested in these days for HATE CRIMES.   It’s like something out of Brave New World or Nineteen Eighty FourThe new intolerance. The neo-liberal now . Don’t get me going on all that…..I’ll only get indigestion. Funnily enough a cigarette is a great cure for indigestion. Tobacco smoke is holy smoke. Hitler did not smoke. A vegetarian who didn’t smoke. Enough said.

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