Duct Tape

Sometimes, when you vacillate between feeling ridiculously light-hearted and thisclose to falling apart in front of everyone, you know something's gotta give. Thus, you go somewhere isolated, turn up the most self-indulgent music you can find, and lose it by candlelight. Then everything's perky! At least, that's what I used to do, once upon a time when I had my own bedroom, candles everywhere, and 1000 watts of stereo system I'd built with my father. These days, there's nowhere to hide, and the possibility of shuddering private weepies and daily doorway quickies are usually just a cruel memory.

Nevertheless, since I'm mentally snuggled in my happy place somewhere in Yeats' forest amongst ancient oaks, a waterfall, mossy rocks and tender ferns, I'm gonna post this next song because it's one of my favourite Irish ballads of all time, is fabulously tragic, and makes me feel all Summer's Eve fresh(TM) after a good sob for the smouldering, poetry-reading Irishman I will never get to shag like a minx on a grassy riverbank or up against an old tree...

Hey! I am soooooooooo kidding, aight?! Everything's actually pretty hunky-dory... mostly, I'm dying from wanderlust and more need for solitude. Saint Cat's literally just sent me a text to say she's back from a gorgeous drive through mountains and olive groves with José Gonzáles as her soundtrack, and is "reading on the porch and having a glass of wine" in Spain right this very second while being courted by the neighbourhood dogs and cats. Then, she's going inside to cook some chorizo and spinach. Her next destination in a few weeks? Morocco. And yes, Sweetheart, I wish I was with you, too! Uncle Giggles wrote yesterday to say he is now in Cairo ~ having just returned from Lebanon ~ writing and shooting pictures. And Supe's headed to her coastal home in Sounion, Greece, in April. SC's proposing the two of us join Supe next time. Oh, the imaginative juices are running, but ah... Reality. Today.

At this moment, I need to get myself and SiKay ready to go out, pick up ArJay, and help wash up after the Teachers' Luncheon at Jeeps' school this afternoon. Oui, c'est très sexy, ça.




The Bothy Band ~ "The Maid of Coolmore"





To further taunt my desire to toss these emerald pastures for glistening and crumbling distant shores, here is the first track I ever heard from Federico Aubele, a DJ/singer-songwriter from Buenos Aires who makes the best sit-outside-and-drink-on-a-summer's-day music in the world.

Get ready to be utterly transported to a place where you can feel the late afternoon sun warm on your skin, smell the baking of fresh baguettes in the air, taste the rich and bitter sweetness of a perfectly pulled espresso, gaze upon ornate Arabesque architecture, and hear the staccati of an aching tango from a distant accordian. Heaven.


Federico Aubele ~ "Postales"

The photo above was taken of a secret, guarded entrance to the ruins of a remote castle in Sligo, which made for an insanely lovely place to read, dream, and hide.