April 25, 1994
"Yesterday doesn't matter if it's gone...catch your dreams before they slip away, dying all the time. Lose your dreams and you will lose your mind, in life unkind."
Mick Jagger/Keith Richards - Ruby Tuesday
Well, it's back to disappointment, discouragement, despair, depression and dejection - in other words, I'm back to normal, dismal and decaying. When I called Bridget yesterday afternoon, I spoke with her brother who told me that she was visiting friends in Tralee and wouldn't be back until Tuesday night. I asked him if he had a phone number and he said he didn't. Liar!
When I got off the phone all I could do was get drunk, but because it was Sunday i had to wait an hour before the pubs reopened at 4:00pm. What a long and lonesome wait that was! Within seconds all happiness and joy were demolished and dissolved, replaced by the emotional emptiness of disbelief and bewilderment. I spent the night at O'Flatherty's drinking Guinness and forcing myself into hoping that she would show up with her friends. But Bridget didn't appear and when the pub closed, I stumbled back to my guest house as alone as I've ever been.
Late this morning I drove to Bunratty, haggard, hopeless and hungover. On the way I stopped at Adare and said a prayer and lit a candle for my soul. I am back staying at the Woulfe's B&B for the next two nights as my final visit comes to an end. To paraphrase Yeats, all empty souls tend towards extremes, and in just the past five days alone, I've proven the accuracy of that statement and observation. One day I'm an emotional wreck with the angel of death rubbing his sickle across my throat. The next day I'm holding a gift from heaven in my arms and happily in love with a woman I've only known for a few hours.
Yesterday is gone and it doesn't matter anymore. For a brief moment I caught a dream and then it died. My mind is lost in a world where both love and life are unkind.
I write this in a pub that was built in 1620. Over the years I've spent many hours here drinking and smoking. On the wall beside me is a smoke stained painting of Yeats as a young man. Every time I've been here I've asked various managers and owners if I could buy the painting, but all offers have been refused. No offer will be made today, because I won't live long enough to enjoy it - and they'll say no anyway.
Over the centuries I'm sure many fairies have found shelter in the nooks and crevices of this ancient pub. One of the traditions of Irish fairies is that the gifts they give you soon fade away, for their gifts are always temporary and fleeting. Being a fetching and fleecing fairy, Bridget, with all her "enduring young charms," has faded away and has taken with her my hope, joy and love.
3:30pm - Durty Nelly's - Bunratty, County Clare, Ireland
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