Blue Skies and Brown Bottles
As we begin our 4th day in succession of blue skies over Dublin West, so grow the bottles on the ground.
It’s the summer weather.
2 days ago, from a field of carpeted green grass, I picked up the scattered smashed pieces of 13 bottles of Budweiser, 2 bottles of vodka, and 1 bacardi breezer (there’s always one).
Yesterday I walked the dog around 3 groups of underage people openly drinking bottles of Budweiser. I couldn’t really give a toss what they drink - when they grow up they’ll probably drink something else - but I do care how they behave.
And they behaved just fine. They weren’t loud or aggressive or spray-painting. Or any of those things that older people get bothered by about young people. They were male and female, they had footballs, and they had dogs. They just happened to also have drinks. And all of them were better dressed than I was.
Have you noticed how young people seem to be younger these days?
Meanwhile, freshly scattered over a square mile of otherwise perfect green grass, was an army of newly broken bottles of Bud.
I picked none of them up this time.
Instead I carefully lay down on the grass between the shards, and I watched my dog roll on her back and the planes head up into the blue sky and off to the land where my son lives.
Eolaí gan Fhéile:
…once upon another life I thought the tune ‘hey, nineteen” quaint - ‘hey, we’re just ballin’; what’s a few years?’
funny ol’ world.
i still remember the ‘queen of soul’ and almost hardly no one i speak with on a daily basis - busting out body or no - can relate to it except in a (uniquely American) mega-church ’soul’ sense…
which, of course, is so off-putting that not even “the cuervo gold, the fine columbian…” could make the night a wonderful thing.
smashed beer bottles, indeed.
(and don’t get me started on why on gawd’s green earth folks livin’ in Ireland would be throwing back St. Louis piss water!)