We're not in Kansas anymore!!!

Since my last post the full effects of what may well have been the worst mistake of my life have hit me as hard and as painfully as a visit to a prison shower house.

I find it decidedly disturbing how quickly my rural ways and unusual attraction to sheep has come racing back to base in as little as 24 hours. Two years living in Dublin 6, though all be it on the breadline, still at the very least afforded me some measure of pretentious existence. Therein lies the difference. While the motto of life for most is be all you can be ‘the pale’ affords a limited yet sufficient variety of interpretation to said motto where living in the country side does not. In other words 'pretend to be more than you are'. Shallow consolation it may be but further to my previous post and the toothless massy driving misfits that abound, this is in no uncertain terms the world of relative degradation.
Having spent the evening supping an 8 pack of the prodigal feast with my own parents while ignoring texts of “I miss you” from my former object of fluid release and tasteless invitations for drinks in Slatt’s from National Disgrace, I fell into the pit of despair that fashions itself tragically on effects not too unlike losing your entire family to a car bomb at a check point in Fallujah. Figuratively speaking.
Looking at the amount of baggage (literal not emotional) my short time in the tri area of R’s, south Dublin, has saddled me with makes me realise that in 2 years I have accumulated a life that literally does not fit back home. Oxfam are about to have a field day.