Jamie B.
Yelp
I was an abroad student in Rome visiting Dublin with new acquaintances. I yearned to act normal but slowly pull the string and unravel for a profound connection. I was a romantic then, young me in a sports coat, smoking, Guinness to my eyelids in O'Donoghues, my after-midnight smile and tired right eye (I'm slightly cockeyed when drunk) thinking how wonderful life was that I was able to see Arianna in Rome in just a few days, how unmindful I was of my surroundings in Dublin.
Arianna, as I've mentioned in other reviews, was my muse, but I had not known yet. I knew that she was married to her high school sweetheart in order to get him citizenship. I knew that, as a disciple of the western canon, I needed affairs with married women, that I would mold myself into what she wanted only to unravel and reveal the tangled mess that is Jamie Battat, greatest Painter in America, now abroad in Dublin.
I ordered an Irish coffee and received an odd look from the bartender. Between the loudness and his accent, I couldn't understand. In all humility, I couldn't understand a thing about anything. How I ended up in O'Donoghues when I'd had no money, no good grades, just a glimmer of talent that someone spotted, and here I was on a free weekend, Guinness to my scalp, brooding in a bar, wanting to be wanted by a married woman.
The bartender was tender, exuded the patience of a monk, patted my arm. Brought me another beer. My friends stood accumulated in a corner like water molecules, the high surface tension of young pretty artists in a foreign bar not wanting to get lost on their walk back to the hostel. I found it useful to regroup and make the best of a night without the girl I chose to love, a lock of her hair in my back pocket like an ace card. I had something they didn't. The purpose to contribute to the canon and shift it. Make it sexy. I love Guinness. I love old bars. I love gold halos and the invisible ones we had in O'Donoghues. A place like this doesn't need pork belly sliders, for we'd soon end up back at the hostel lying face down on hard bunks.