When I was about sixteen I spent so much time in pubs all around Wicklow and Wexford. Growing up among Irish farmers. Singing in the pubs was such a grand tradition and this tune always got the whole house roaring and clapping, I love this song so much and the eerie drunky smoky warm memories it invokes. I lived for the weekends - with two or three pints of Guinness and some Paddy's lined up on the bar, winning at darts, and Irish music. If I was lucky, I had someplace to stay after closing time. If not I would pass out in the brambles of a cold, damp roadside ditch or borrow an abandoned cottage and wrap myself in a piece of filthy carpet. Then wander homeward and eventually make it back a day or two later, empty and exhausted and hating life again. Waiting for the next whiskey in the jar.
"My dad was 59 when he died, 59. I feel betrayed, I feel like I'm being stood up by god himself. Oh daddy, I'm crying writing this, knowing I'll never hear your voice again or see your cheeky smile. I love you so, so much and my heart has been torn apart. You sent me this beautiful piece of art just months ago and I didn't even bother to react to your mail. Well, here I am now. I love it, daddy. To all of you out there, don't take your parents for granted or anybody for that matter, today they might be fine but they could be gone in a day with no warning."
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When I was about sixteen I spent so much time in pubs all around Wicklow and Wexford. Growing up among Irish farmers. Singing in the pubs was such a grand tradition and this tune always got the whole house roaring and clapping, I love this song so much and the eerie drunky smoky warm memories it invokes. I lived for the weekends - with two or three pints of Guinness and some Paddy's lined up on the bar, winning at darts, and Irish music. If I was lucky, I had someplace to stay after closing time. If not I would pass out in the brambles of a cold, damp roadside ditch or borrow an abandoned cottage and wrap myself in a piece of filthy carpet. Then wander homeward and eventually make it back a day or two later, empty and exhausted, hating life again. Waiting for the next whiskey in the jar.
"My dad was 59 when he died, 59. I feel betrayed, I feel like I'm being stood up by god himself. Oh daddy, I'm crying writing this, knowing I'll never hear your voice again or see your cheeky smile. I love you so, so much and my heart has been torn apart. You sent me this beautiful piece of art just months ago and I didn't even bother to react to your mail. Well, here I am now. I love it, daddy. To all of you out there, don't take your parents for granted or anybody for that matter, today they might be fine but they could be gone in a day with no warning."
Love these Giant Creature flicks. Never forgot that crab conveniently falling into the steaming hot springs and how delicious that would be. 
