Michael O’Shea - Anfa Dasachtach [mp3]
It began by a lake. Failed attempts skipping briefly until sinking into the murk, we withstood only three lurches before finding chain link success. This day was sunny and bright, a filterless sky casting it’s gaze on our forgotten, unprotected cells. Orion had brought along a gift for our adventures and we discussed in surprising detail the journey laid out before us. This particular journey was thanks to an oblong disc and the stumbling hills of blissed out Jones Park. Near still to the lake, we aligned for another time. An ess floated dramatically, flailing only briefly with a gust and at third we found protection in the trees. This approach afforded a more private setting for burning fires full of flight and we found ourselves cast down staring up the length of a mountain. Orion said, “This is going to take a long time.”
Four holes later, a reach around the back and a sudden glimpse of cigar toking, club wielding men of the world on manicured carpets of artificial green. We stood silently at first, at the edge of the stream flowing from the previously described lake. Stood silently staring and smoking. They wore orange polo shirts and had orange skin accentuated richly by the bright white of their heads. Orion began the shouting, yelling “Hey you fuckers. We’re in Iraq for your baby!” I think I yelled some things too, maybe about “baby killing” or “baby eating” or “baby murder.” They seemed like the type.
Our ascent in the standings continued for some time with regular references to the “biblical nature” of our trails traversed throwing frisbees at targets hundreds of feet away. We climbed still more steep steps stupidly stumbling and bumbling, sometimes mispeaking words out of frustration with the complexity of language and other times out of ignorance for the true meaning of exuding sounds. Each opportunity of alone was rewarded rightly so, just so, it was so we would play better probably and so instead of cigarettes we smoked and smoked finding behind and ahead the journey undertaken to be of serious consequence.
At some point, Orion remarked, “We are at the top of the hill,” and I agreed with a nod. Shortly thereafter, we completed our round of eighteen and departed the glorified fields of Jones Park with a handshake and a hug.
Michael O’Shea is a rhythm and blues band from Ireland. The featured song is from the album Michael O’Shea. Download the music at Killed in Cars.
