I went to a show on 9/7 at he 59 East 59th. I highly recommend the show, which is in town til October 2nd. It's a clown show called, "Cirque de Legume." Anyway, the show is Irish and I was hanging out with one of the creators, one of the producers who brought it over, and some random friend of the producer's after the show.
Lots of things to say, but I just wanna focus for a sec on the random friend. His name was Ciaron, or Ian, or Seamus. I can't remember. He was there at the producer's invitation. Salt & pepper hair, skinny, big laugh lines in his face. He talked about where he was from and compared notes with the Irish guy who'd just performed. Ireland is a small country, so people tend to know the same people and have been at the same venues. This guy, let's call him Ian, somewhere mentioned that he hadn't been home in five years. And he's not a-typical. He's a type. And he reminded me of a type in the old neighborhood in Brooklyn, another Irish guy who worked as a carpenter. A single dude with a youngish face who gets over to NYC illegally, does construction, mostly for cash, and drinks a lot. Always with a bit of good banter, but some sadness as well. And lonely. And usually with wine stains and slurs around his lips by the end of the night. Surrounded in a sea of people who claim Irish heritage. And he probably feels a bit alienated from that, but also feels like he can't go home.
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