01 February 2011

Regretful stags on Dublin streets

One of my goals for 2011 is to try and fall in love with this city, and if not actually in love then at least get to the point of holding hands and staring into each other's eyes with that vague tingly excitement that a quick snog might not be entirely out of the question at some point later on in the evening.

I've written before about my apathy/hate relationship with Dublin and the oppressive wet towel of grey pushed down from the heavens above to smother any sparks, let alone fire, of excitement or originality that threaten to erupt up from the streets and consume the city in a blaze of joy and happiness. Other people like to internalise these feelings with helpful labels such as SAD, or the winter blues, whereas I like to lay blame firmly at the feet of those responsible, to point fingers and name names, and thus I can unequivocally call out the narrow-minded short-term thinking of a cynical group of miserable vikings one thousand and twenty three years ago (plus or minus a few weeks) who chose the muddy banks of the river Liffey as a good enough spot to build a trading post.

Stupid vikings.

Given the habitual gloom and doom that hovers over our fair city just far enough out of reach that it can't be escaped by climbing higher but low enough to meld into the streets and sea at the vanishing point on the horizon, creating a bubble of absolute grey above, below and all around, it may come as something of a surprise to hear that January was the brightest and driest January since 2006, with 40% less rain than normal. This follows on from the single coldest day since records began in December, the coldest November in 25 years, and just to be contrary the hotest June in 20 years.

All this goes to show that, as any twelve year-old could tell you, nobody listens to records any more, its all about the mp3s and the ringtones. Our dependable Irish climate is dependable no more; arctic winters, dry springs and scorching summers may now be the norm, not the exception.

And if the external climate can change, perhaps so too can my internal one. I may never write eulogies to the city on its bones and skin or immortalise it with words that are carried from window to window on the voices of those who travel along its veins and arteries, but maybe, just maybe, I can come to view it with something less than hostility and approaching mutual respect and appreciation.

And from that maybe true feelings will develop.

But I can't guarantee that this relationship will be exclusive.

Images: Street Art outside the Bernard Shaw, South Richmond Street. Shame & Regret from 'They Are Us' by Maser, stag by James Earley

For many more (and much, much better) photos of Dublin Street Art check out lusciousblopster's gallery. You can lose yourself in it for hours.

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