Many years ago in Cork, 1995 to be exact, returning from Paris after a five year stay, I returned to my native Cork City via a short detour in Dublin. Once arriving, I found a bedsit in the Wellington Road area, and started reading copious amounts of Raymond Chandler. I was suffering from a form of literary cold turkey, having prohibited myself from reading any more of Samuel Beckett; an Oedipal act, in an attempt at artistic survival!
Well, I tried to write a few crime capers myself. Three attempts, before giving up; I found linking up the plot lines far too tedious work, and so returned to poetry!
Here I am, back at it again, some years later.
My model is of course
The Big Sleep, which has to be one of my favourite novels of all time.
Here's looking at you Raymondo!
https://liveencounters.net/le-poetry-writing-2019/05-may-pw-2019/peter-oneill-origins/
I remember that apartment on Wellington Road. I always thought it was very grand! Till i went to the downstairs loo. ��
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