It’s January of 2003. I’m back in Dublin. I’m manic. This is my second time around the insanity block. Within Dublin, I live in the neighborhood of Glasnevin. It’s north of the River Liffey, and it’s working class. The Glasnevin cemetery is ominous, beautiful and ever-present. This is Ireland’s national cemetery, and I can see the Celtic cross tombstones outside of my bedroom window. I live with two young nurses from the countryside and an older guy who just finished working in some capacity on a presidential campaign for the Irish political party ‘Fine Gael.’ They lost. He’s bitter. He’s never nice to me. I get along with the nurses, though, until I don’t. That’s my fault.
Oof. He's back.