After an exploration into alternate URLs and redirecting and masking that yielded nothing but techincal difficulties and ultimately just kept this blog down for a week or so, I'm back. And with my rentré I'd like to make a bit of a departure from my standard fare.
This blog was built on my passion for language, writing and specifically words - using words to convey emotion. In an earlier post I talked about how Orson Scott Card moved me, literally right off the treadmill, with his amazing organization of words that, when taken as a whole, amount to his novel, Lost Boys.
It is that type of emotion that I seek. I seek to experience it and to create it. So far I've had more success in the former than the latter, but truly believe my best days are ahead of me. Last night I experienced it again. To my great pleasure I get to experience this particular event each March, just a bit before St. Patrick's Day and the great news is, you can too--next year. I'm talking about The Young Dubliners.
What's even better, and why I've chosen this topic, is their lyrics. Their songs tell stories and relate Celtic culture. Combine it with guitars, drums, a fiddle, an assortment of pipes, and a love of story and you leave having been moved. It's an experience that will stay with you long after your ears have stopped ringing.
For nearly two hours we gorged ourselves on pleasure coated nuggets of pleasure dipped in a mixture of light and dark pleasure with a sprinkling of delight. When they first came on stage, Keith started with a guitar riff and then thanked us, "Salt Lake City. One night. Whenever we feel like taking a break or getting off the road for awhile, all we have to do is play Salt Lake City for one night and you remind us why we do this."
Does he say that to all the girls? Maybe. Probably. But we don't love him any less.