Flying over old St. Louis

A few people have asked me where the title of my blog comes from, Missouri Bird. Well, its the title of an old John Stewart song, about being young and going into the world and returning to first loves etc. If you don't know John Stewart, shame on you, he is a veteran of the folk-rock scene, has released loads of records, had one minor hit called "Gold" in the late 70s and still rocks on after all these years.

Fundamental disappointment at not being able to get tickets for Neil Young in London, we were prepared to forsake our island haven for the tribulations of the big city for a few days just to maybe catch the old boy live for the last time (he's old, we're getting there, travelling is mostly done through thought these days), but to no avail, sold out is all I can find.

Last of all this time, I read all those positive, praising reviews of Dennis Johnson's "Tree of Smoke", the latest great american novel etc., so decided to give it a go. I must admit to finding it a bit of a struggle, his plotting is laborious, the characters flabby and undemanding, but I will stick with it, maybe it improves as it moves on.

Wanted - Grumpy Old Men

I have spent a great deal of the, very long, Christmas and New Year period being regularly informed that I am a grumpy old man, by my wife, my mother and my various nieces (Notice - all women!). So, accepting this as my lot, I have decided to take a very positive approach and set up a National Association of Grumpy Old Men (NAGOM). Today, I am soliciting for members. The rules are very simple:

1. As age is relative, physical old age is not a requisite, only being old in the head is necessary.

2. You must prefer the company of dogs and cats to humans - they don't argue back, their needs are very simple, they don't know how to use a credit card.

3. Give up the desire to go places, you will only want to carry on going. Make the journey in your head, listen to the silence.

4. Most of what you say should not make sense, it didn't before so why should it now?

Once the Association is up and running we can do all sorts of things like not have meetings, organise events and then not turn up, compare notes on Neil Young's back catalogue (I am hoping he will become our President), take long silent, lonesome walks on empty beaches, eschew bars, pubs, restaurants and all other places of social gathering where you might have to talk to people.

Membership is free, there are no forms, no need to contact, just get it together on your own, take the dog for a walk, sing to the wind, read obscure John Cowper Powys novels (the new biography by Morine Krissdottir is quite special), get angry at inanity, injustice and sheer dribble, hate the concept of celebrity. That's a few things to be getting on with, invent your own grumpy manifestations, it's exhilirating and keeps old minds active.

Winter is a comin'

Oh yes it certainly is! Last weekend the wood burner was overworked, as we started to feel the bite of a cold northwesterly, accompanied by driving rain. Sounds like a Neil Young song, or something from Dylan's back catalogue!

Talking of NY, heard any of Chrome Dreams II? The old boy is still taking me farther out then most of the rest, still able to suprise and challenge. Same as good ole Steve Earle, no longer a country boy, he's upped and shifted to New York, name checking Joseph Mitchell in songs and turning into a good ole urban cowboy. Still means it, still cares, still rages though.

Short visit this time, I'm in the middle of teaching a class so better get down to it.

Tourists in the bog

We have finally had some decent weather here in the south-west of Ireland and I have been doing a great deal of walking in the boglands at the north western end of the island where I live. Although the place was still quite wet, there was a lot of life going on. The flora has suddenly exploded, set free by the burst of heat and sun. Bird's Foot Trefoil, Ling, Ragged Robin, Bog Asphodel and Stonecrop have all started to bloom and its a treat to see all this. However, alongside all this natural stuff comes the inevitable detritus of that most unnatural of creatures, the tourist. Four wheel drives parked on fragile coastal heathland because they are too lazy to shift their asses and walk a few hundred metres. Empty drinks bottles, quagmires of discarded tissues, letters from Eircom (Dublin address), foil fast food trays and golf balls have all turned up out there in the last couple of weeks. Most bizarrely, I found a small tin of lip balm and a mobile phone (no credit left so I left it with the guards) sitting on a rock, in full view. And one of the dogs came bouncing across to me with a single sock in her mouth. Someone must have one cold, wet foot!

Tourism is a major part of what sustains many people in this area, and so I accept its importance. I just cannot accept that it is necessary to dump rubbish anywhere you feel like, I even had one delightful visitor offload their bags of non-recyclable stuff into my recycling bin which meant I had the unpleasant task of removing it.

I love the place where I live, and I know that all the visitors that I meet and talk to also have a great affection for it. Valentia Island is still relatively unspoilt in large areas and those of us who make our homes here want it to stay that way. All we ask is that, yes please come and visit, enjoy our scenery, share our lifestyles, take away your photos, take away your memories, and, most of all, take away your rubbish. Leave behind only your footprints.

PS to my profile and last posting. We have added to our family, we have another dog, Pegi, a labrador/collie cross and she is already great friends with codydog. They play and fight and chase all the time, then they go to sleep. Oh the effort of it all!

Dribbling Inanity of the Oscars

Is it just me, or does anybody else find the whole Oscars thing an exercise in mindlessness? Does anyone really care who made so and sos dress or what party this over-rated over-dressed "celebrity" is going to. I watched the BBC Breakfast News this morning and all I got was a breathless, awestruck interviewer wittering nonsense questions at Helen Mirren and some bloke who is apparently a producer of the winning film.

We are expected to want instant access to celebrities, who have some sort of cult status for being celebrities. This is news, not the war, not street crime, not even our drug-ridden schools.

I'm so glad that I live in the middle of nowhere, celebrity here means you played for the local football team, or you wrote a book. The media-driven world of reality tv and celebrity news features doesn't even demand that you have read a book! Too much living lives vicariously through the actions and non-actions of a selected bunch of pretty people. Presumably, every young girl will now want to do a Britney and shave their head.

I need to calm down, a walk in the bogs is called for. Codydog, lets get going.