Sunday, May 1, 2016

Nocturnal Overthinking



4am, in bed, insomniac.

Trying to shake off this song stuck in my head... I'm thirsty. I need to pee. I wonder if the toilet can wait. Or, in this case, my bladder. Oh, there's a bassline I have to remember tomorrow - where's my notepad? So many things to do, so little time. Oh, hello, anxiety. This pillow is playing games with me... Is it so hard to find a comfortable position?! My neck hurts. Do I really need to go to the toilet? False alarm. When will I die? And how? And why? Do people ever get their heads flooded with these sour thoughts when they can't sleep? Sure, it can't be just me. I need to turn off the bloody heater, it's roasting. I miss home... But where is home? Deep. That Pinterest moodboard is exquisite. How many hours until sunrise? Let me check if I set up the alarm... Can I reach my glass of water in the dark? Fuck. Maybe I should listen to Chopin, classical always soothes the sleepless. Am I still hungry? My stomach is roaring... I'm still too full though, no wonder I can't fall asleep. One should never pig out before bedtime. Life's too short. Will I ever find true love? I can't believe Keith Richards is still alive - incredible. All I can think of right now is peanut butter and chocolate ice cream... and I don't even like peanut butter... The Universe is doomed... Cosmic complexities... Black holes! I lost one of my socks in the layers of this bed. My feet are cold. Did I remove my mascara?! What the hell was that noise? Should I go downstairs? Nah, can't be bothered. MICHAEL FASSBENDER. What should I wear tomorrow? Brown boots + mustard sweater + blue dress + burgundy hat... *mentally visualisation of my entire wardrobe* Do we actually remember when we were little kids or only the photographs of us instead of the actual memories? Is it morning yet? Humpf. 

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Anatomy of a Broken Heart


Your ribs open and expose a scrapyard. You sink into this shipwreck state and crash like a trainwreck. Remains of long lost memories are all what's left in the carcass that once was your soul. You become vulnerable like a deer in the headlights, you find yourself praying for someone to come back into your life, even if that means a second round of a hurricane destroying everything around and inside you. You dig a grave for your heart but there's no coffin big enough to carry it or to bury it. Life becomes an Amy Winehouse song. You listen to Tom Waits and relate to his drunken laments and his misery. The Smiths play on the radio and you think those lyrics were customized. This mess you're in is not functional, let alone rational. Knees are too bruised from crawling after someone who doesn't give a shit if you're dead, alive, suffering or celebrating. You self-sabotage yourself, questioning everything and wondering if you've been living a lie, or not living at all. It's like taking that Matrix red pill, more like an overdose of red pills.

That's how heartbreak feels like. You can't dance, focus, eat or sleep. Some sort of tormented tunnel vision that blinds you with passion. You obsess over what went wrong, what could have happened been, the what ifs. Everything feels cold and uninviting. Just like an emotional comedown you're trapped in. You delete photos, you try to erase memories by muffling them with alcohol-induced amnesia. Oh, the things you do to feel less. To not feel at all. Brainwashed by your own feelings, you cry on the kitchen floor, you roll your eyes at those happy couples on the bus home, you declare war on dating. Hope is the danger you fear the most and when you wake up it feels like a fuzzy hangover feeling you can never delay. You stuff your stomach with uppers and downers that eventually will numb and distract you from what's going on. The butterflies in your tummy are now rats looking for a way out. You torture yourself and ask yourself how people deal with this. How long will it last? Is it really over? You refuse to listen to your gut but you should know better, you know you must trust your gut in order to avoid disaster. You end up feeling sorry for yourself - why wouldn't you? You're going through Hell after all. You feel like the heartbroken, lovesick, delusional, humilated loser they talk about in your back. And let's face it, you never really learn anything from hearbreak, do you?

Everything tastes insipid. You waste your time cursing the moment that person entered your life, never truly belonging to it but ruining it all for you. You realise you were never special. Somebody else is now where you once were. You're torn between relief and regret, distancing yourself from whatever logical thought that could save your soul in this Purgatory called unrequited love. Your bedroom becomes the Valley of Dolls and you alienate yourself from what used to be you. People will tell you "Don't drink yourself to death. There's plenty of fish in the sea." and "It was for the best. A blessing in disguise, I tell ya!" or "You need to see the bigger picture!" but you are blind and empty inside. There's nothing left, only grief, rage and angsty anguish. All you have left now is time to heal your wounds - you can always brag about the scars later. It's fuckin' survival.

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Smithfield Food Fair - Spring Edition


Once again, a food fair took place in Smithfield and as you can imagine, I was there to experience everything the market had to offer. Supporting local organic traders, vegan brands and independent Irish businesses sounds like a good plan. A plethora of stalls featuring homemade jams, honey, cakes, vegetarian burgers, cheese, fruit & veggies took Generator Hostel by surprise - so many fresh products, so little time. Another rainy afternoon spent among healthy snacks, live music and baked goods.

Monday, April 4, 2016

Carnivore Ecstasy at My Meat Wagon


I present you another Smithfield gem: My Meat Wagon! This is the place to go if a) you're hungry as fuck, b) you're a Texan BBQ enthusiast, c) you need a meat fix asap. My gluttony made me dive into a food coma-inducing feast, in one of the coolest spots in the Northside. Located right next to Lighthouse Cinema (how handy is that?), this meat wonderland offers an epic selection of cuts from ribs to brisket, including finger-lickin' delicious sides like tasty onion rings (I rarely enjoy them as they're often covered in tons of grease but I didn't complain about this batch), hearty chorizo-like sausages and homemade chips. 

We ordered a mixed meat platter, which is basically a board of meaty yummies: smokey pork belly, juicy pulled pork, scrumptiously seasoned chicken, the whole shebang. The texture was everything - crispy crust, juicy bits, succulent fat. Add a delightful BBQ and mustard sauce, and nothing beats a refreshing craft cider to wash it all down.

I liked how the decoration was simultaneously cool, cosy and casual, yet not too pretensious - and the toilet walls were covered in vinyl records. Gotta love some red neon and those butcher-reminiscent PVC curtains. Great atmosphere, groovy music (and more importantly, not too loud), genuinely friendly staff (thanks a mill for your efficiency and helpful suggestions, lads!) and everything on the menu was reasonably priced, offering an exceptional good value for such quantity and quality.

If you want to survive My Meat Wagon, you'll need an infinity of napkins and the appetite of a starving pig. Colossal portions rich in taste and texture are always worth drooling for; my stomach will forever welcome substancial comfort food like this.

Sunday, March 27, 2016

♥ SUNDAY BEST ♥ #74

Here's the ultimate hot dog guide for your drool's sake. I'd eat them all.

I took this photo in Antwerp after dark.

Now, let's talk about rock stars destroying their guitars.

Nigel Thornberry
This cat has some nerve and the way he's just standing there staring is disturbing.


Dolomedes briangreenei
This Australian (of course!) swimming spider eats fish and frogs four time its size! Sorry, aracnophobes.

rocknroll-666-world:

joan and debbie 😍

I wouldn't mind spending the entire Spring in this house.

Picture of
How cute is this octopus!?

Ever wondered what happened to the Robert Palmer's girls?

Thursday, March 24, 2016

Dark Days in Dublin


It's Spring, they say. Apart from the magnolias I spot here and there, it still feels like Winter, but it's gradually getting milder and brighter. A hermit sun shows up sometimes and the extended daylight is filtered by those fat, monochromatic clouds. In Dublin, everything is grey and blue and green, with rust-coloured bricks kissed by perpetual rain. I listen to Black Rebel Motorcycle Club in a candle-lit room and my cup of coffee is empty again. No one here to hear my sighs, only a radiator melting the chocolate leftovers from yesterday and a bass guitar challenging my fingers.

Thursday, March 17, 2016

The Jameson St. Patrick's Day Hub


You know how much I hate crowds so it's no wonder I avoided Temple Bar like the plague today. However, something quite interesting was taking place in Smithfield, just down the road. As the disco brunch in Drury Buildings was already sold out, celebrating St Patrick's Day at the Old Jameson Distillery didn't sound like a bad idea at all. Bow Street looked surprisingly serene in the sunniest Thursday ever. I wasn't in the mood for parades, Leprechaun outfits or hysterical tourists taking selfies with pints of Guinness - this event was much more inviting and free admission goes a long way. There was live music, whiskey tasting and free James Earley designed sweatshirts (thank you, Damn Fine Print!). The venue itself is a treat, and it was nice just to walk around, sipping an ice cold Jameson and Ginger Ale with lime.


Eventually we got hungry and burger porn Jo'Burger was the answer. The "distillery district", as I call it, has a few gems worth going for brunch, lunch and dinner. I carefully studied the menu while waiting outside and it was so hard to decide between the beef, lamb or veggie options. I love it when you are able to build your own burger from scratch, because, well, possibilities are endless. I added a few extras like smoked applewood cheese, bacon and a fried egg (of course). The smell of meat paired with a charcoal grill was making me drool in loco. The veredict? One of the best burgers I've ever had in Dublin, it made it to the top 5, I kid you not. The meat quality! The relish! The "I ordered rare, I got rare" factor! The perfect bun! The portions! All washed down with mint lemonade (I must try the ginger and cranberry coolers next time). The homemade ketchup stole the show and the sweet potatoes... don't even get me started on the sweet potatoes. Have you been to Jo'Burger? Did you manage to finish your meal? Last but not least, doesn't the manager look exactly like The Dude?
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