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Making small thing grand and grand things small.
Erin O'Brien
All Things O'Brien
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18 comments:
Is that nunber 12 or 35?
Erin, your brother led me to find you. At first I was amused, just amused by your banter, then staggered around and found the first post. Since then, I realised there was another pulse driving your frenzy. I've stopped drinking these last two months. Partly, a small part, your brother and yourself became part of my meditation on drinking.
Nearly twenty years ago, I got mugged by a South Sea Islander, twice my size, with two others. After an idiot dance in the street in slow motion (my father had taught me defensive boxing, cling; grab; get inside the punch), he finally slashed my forehead open with a piece of broken glass, from some beer I had been carrying. I was stitched up by a doctor friend who was a neighbour.
Yesyerday, I noticed the scar for the first time in years, Just some angle of the light. I was back there.
We all carry our hurts and scars, just under the surface.
Your brother story is your first post and your second newspaper article. The rest,from here on, can be for you. We have these scar stories which we have to tell, and are better for the telling.
Not all the time. but sometimes.
Your friend from across the world who is crying while typing.
I've not got much to say, E. You touched me.
Oh, except that the Grey Goose guy is wrong. Real women are much more attractive than cartoons.
Gritty, dirty, surreal reality. Fantastic, Erin.
I love New Orleans. How many times we we stumble out of one bar to end up at another that hosted a 5 or 6AM BBQ? I mean-where else do you go bar-hopping at 11:30PM and BRING your SUNGLASSES!
~d heart Erin
Very descriptive write Erin. I feel like I am there
that was a good read erin .
I could feel that dim thick air all around. Leaving that place into the clean air and to your home must have been a prayer answered.
Me, I like going out to bars and drinking. I don't like going to depressing dark places like the one you described though, and my guess is that if that's the kind of place I start hanging out in regularly, then it's time for me to quit drinkin'
I think theres a wonderful sense of love, sadness, loss and anger in your invocation of your brother. You articulated that writing was a way to pay tribute to your brother, and carry on with his gift. It seems that you've done that and more, finding a voice of your own and captivating us all with your wit and wisdom.
Thanks for sharing in the fire that is you, and the spirit of your brother, may his soul rest in peace.
Sleepy hearts Erin
Since it was Nolan's Bar, I would have told the bartender he looked like Lloyd Nolan.
What bartender doesn't??
Sometimes you want to go where everyone knows your name.
You said a lot to me here, Erin. I miss those days, but I'm glad they're in my past.
WOW!! My dad died about 17 months ago.....I was devastateed.....I am devastated although no one knows!! I carry it or maybe it carry's me....I always thought it would never go away....I see it's true. You - your brother...my the memories of love are sweet...xoxox
BTW Erin, it was my extreme pleasure to email the editor of the Free Times and tell them what a fine addition to their publication you are.
1) It's true
2) I just love you THAT much.
Amusing and sad at the same time, Erin. Nice work. I'd been looking forward to this one sice you mentioned the outing a while back.
I'll write your editor.
HEY! I want to email the editor too!
The prayer corner. Regulars of the bar.
Reminds me of my mother.
I enjoy the frivolity around here, but I really come for the writing. This one is a keeper...observant, atmospheric, understated.
These days I drink in places where polo is played, but peel off the veneer and I'm back here.
http://singlemanwriting.blogspot.com/2006/01/canary-in-coal-mine.html
Doesn't anyone in there drink wine?
One burbon. One scotch. One beer.
Great piece.
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