What a game

Went out to a gig in the Róisin Dubh last night (Paraic Rushe, nice voice, apostolic looking, good backing vocalists and some good original material, most cringingly awful version of Hallelluiah heard so far), walking around many drunk happy people wearing Ireland jersies and enjoying their first cigarettes in years. It was that kind of match. I stayed at home in solitary confinement for the watching it. Didn't want any distractions or anyone to see me in an emotional wipeout. Lucky choice on my part. Fear, frustration, elation, more elation, concern , anger, nausea, ecstasy, blind panic, and relief in that order. Wondering whether it was possible to perform heart massage on onesself. That's it. the country is fucked for good now. We've used up at least ten years woth of good luck by using the Irish mind-meld on that ball for the last kick.