The Moral Decline of One Young Man

As far as possible, on this trip, self wants to focus on Irish writers.  She’s at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre, after all.  And she’s surrounded by books by Irish writers — in the Main House, in her cottage.

She stumbled across a pocketbook named Grace Notes and Bad Thoughts, by John Kelly (Dublin: Martello Books, 1994).  It opens thus:

Of a man’s first disobedience there is much to be said — and perhaps the best place to start is the day I boked all over Joseph Haverty’s “The Blind Piper” in the National Gallery of Ireland.  It was one of those sudden bokes that catches the boker completely by surprise — if I’d had even the slightest indication that such a Vesuvian boke was on the cards I would not have been standing in front of Joseph Haverty’s “Blind Piper” with my mouth open.  It stands to sense.

Like a sudden and violent dig in the ribs, it was a sharp elbow in the very cage itself.  Clutching at my side with both hands, I doubled over with the kidney pain of the whole affair and out came a terrific rush of air — expelled with such a hellish force that out with it came the mother of all bokes — a ferocious geyser of a crop-spraying and psychedelic boke.

For the non-Irish readers of this blog, a boke, self eventually figured out, is a barf.  Vomit.

After reading aforementioned scene, self was delighted to insert a puking scene in one of her own stories.

Priceless.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

 

 

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