I had the craziest dream last night. Over Skype I was offered an interview somewhere in Canada, and they wanted me to fly over. Over I went, I don't know how I got there, arriving bearded to a small lakeside community almost suffocated with forestry. Drab enough sky and the rain, warm, fell steady. I was offered a job as a writing hack with this tremendous view, and although pay was never mentioned, it was there I found myself.
It didn't work out as expected, as after only a day, the lady who gave me the job now wanted me to go back to Ireland and make cheap twenty grand documentaries to be made available across the net with a newly devised creative common agreement attached. So, back I went, a chump to renegade guerillistic filmmaking. I must have been doing something right, because just before I woke up i was being blinded by this red dot that shone nervously in one of my eyes probably searching for my temple.
Wouldn't it be great if we could capture our dreams, plug something into the back of the head and into a Mac, and just play around with the footage all day before trying to join the dots in a way people could get entertained. Cross genre/areas of interest/studies of life and any other way you can think. But such is science fiction.
The leaders debate took place between Eamon and Micháel tonight with Vincent 'the ledge' Browne hosting. It was an admirable debate all things considered, I personally felt Micháel took it narrowly on points. Unfortunately it will make little difference in the short term for his party. Even a well staged handing over of his ministerial severance payout (€88k) to a charity would just be seen as a cynical move now. A chance to prove that this was not about money gone to the four winds, the Fianna Fail alliance with money and greed still going strong.
I had great hopes for Gilmore six months ago. Hopes a good thing in times of austerity. Sadly I realised that once a party sits back and allows a Finance Bill with such social consequence attached to sail through into law, without any proper debate, and it will be only out of desperation I'd give their candidates a No 1. His 'union' with Fine Gael is also off putting. A left-right alliance. How does that work?
Still, both men will feel proud to have took part. They sounded good to those who don't follow politics or indeed don't know the half of what is going on. And they debated, not much hope in the words, but debated all the same.
The biggest loser of the night was Enda Kenny who wouldn't debate for any number of reasons but the real one. He bottled it. No cahona's!
Ireland, the land where anyone can be taoiseach. I'm sure Vincent Browne will catch up with him at some stage. I heard Kenny on the radio earlier today. He sounded doddery.
I wonder will he come down with some mystery virus come the five way debate and the other three-way debate. Sitting pretty in the polls, if I was spinning for him, that's what I would have on his agenda. Kenny, touring the land, voiceless from infection, but stirring the people with air punching gestures and peace signs. Maybe even grow a Ronny.
He'd probably sail in without the need for Labour such is the bloody thirst for change.
But what change...
I finished my course with the Bolton Trust today. During conversations where I told people of my denial last week of the back-to-work enterprise allowance, there were mouths open and heads a shaking. You could not explain the dynamics of it to a child and expect anything else but a sense of disbelief from them. Disbelief to go along with the growing disillusionment and a slight fear of where Ireland is headed if we continue with the charade we are now being subjected to.
I should go lightly into the night and be an obedient citizen, but if I didn't feel so strongly about certain issues in this country, I'd probably turn to Daytime TV for comfort, and be done with the effort.
I sent my third appeal e mail to 'The Department' today. None have been answered. All there dated, on record for one of my future books, The Soulless Diaries.
Who know's, Enda Kenny might read it some day sitting in his favourite chair when he enjoys his retirement at the expense of the taxpayer.
"Feck you, Booker," he'll say, sipping a Pina Coloda in his conservatory gazing out on to the broad Atlantic foam.
"Feck you, Booker."
Absurdity... what a great area of study. But then again maybe my writing is not what they want out in the public domain. But I'll get Booker's World out there, one way or another. In many ways it plays into my hands even more. I was touting Vincent as a legend a year and a half ago. Wait until his poster is on the walls of teenagers of this country.I didn't expect Booker's World to become a running series. The second book starts tomorrow. This time, I don't think I'll be holding back, but try not to lose what remains of my sense of humour either. Now there's a challenge.
But the day belongs to Enda, caught eating chicken during the time the debate was on before being heckled by a disgruntled citizen for bottling it tonight. Vincent would have been an easier ride. The irony, hey!