I’m on an intercity train, bound for Galway but for now still stationary at Heuston. My cloth mask is on, the air conditioning is gusting, a child in the row ahead of me is listening to noisy cartoons through headphones, and elsewhere a group of sunburnt young ones are loudly discussing nipple piercings. It’s a … Continue reading IMAGE: Belonging
Grafton Street was empty on St. Stephen’s Day, you’ll recall. We were all sat at home, waiting for onset of a hangover we’re still trying to Berocca our way through so many months later. The winter sales were essentially an online-only phenomenon in 2020, click but don’t collect – just like work was, just like … Continue reading IMAGE: When the streets of a city empty, where do the people go? Greystones.
Is it blasphemous to compare oneself to the Virgin Mary? Probably, but here goes nothing. In the summer of 1985, as Ireland endured another year of mass emigration and spittle-flecked wrangling about divorce, it was reported that people throughout the country were spotting statues of Mary moving spontaneously, most notably in Ballinspittle, Co. Cork. You … Continue reading IMAGE: The internet wrecked the world and the internet saved my life
At the beginning of December, I had a letter to the editor published in the Irish Times after following the advice of my Leaving Cert English teacher: keep it brief and send it early. (Thank you, Ms. Gallagher, wherever you are.) In it, I talked about how far removed from my own experience as a … Continue reading Quare: Who is healthcare for?
She’s forever wearing masks, for her good and yours, leasing new bodies for each vantage point. Flesh-and-blood parallax, she bends light through herself – a spectrum of gentle deceptions. She does her part to get by, because she is good. She is good. She is good, isn’t she? Fluorescent lights glimmer deep red behind her … Continue reading Big Art Energy: Transnormal
It wouldn’t have been like me to beat the drum of self-improvement while a global pandemic raged. Collective traumas were there to be survived, muddled through, duvet day by duvet day. I knew that. But somewhere along the way I became one of those people: the type who decides that even a few thousand excess deaths … Continue reading Rogue: The radical power of transgender stories