I never got to finish the last piece…
I suppose that’s the way it is with life: always reproducing itself and never reaching the finish of the job. So what if a blog-piece is left hanging on the line?
Irish Blog Awards 2007
They loom. Large on the horizon. Who’ll be in the frame this year?
Who’ll be at the Night of Oscars, in the Dublin Hotel?
Why would I want to be there?
Who would want to meet me there? And likewise to you too…
So far, I know that there is a man, Damien the name, sitting in a kitchen somewhere in Cork, looking at thousands of nominations for many categories. I can see him. He’s tired and fired with enthusiasm. Every so often he breaks off from planning to read the latest gossip about the Awards. There are men bitching. Women throwing their weight. He’s the puppeteer, the master of the puppets; he is the string-puller.
Without him there would be no Awards, only words spoken in pubs and toilets. There would be only dreams of Awards. Seekers after Awards would be rudderless and safe. Safe in the phantasy that, if there were Awards, “I would win one”. At least I’d win the Award for Best Dreamer about Awards.
Do I really want to meet up? The last time I met UP he was on the way down and we never hit it off.
Truth is I’m not sure.