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About Galway

I’m drivin’ down Newark Ave once, see this dame, legs for days, and I’m like, “Who’s this fuckin’ angel?” Reminds me of that movie line, “The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” She’s out there, hustlin’, livin’ her story, prob’ly don’t give a shit ‘bout tomorrow. That’s the draw—livin’ raw, no filter. But then I get pissed, ‘cause the cops don’t do jack—they bust ‘em, let ‘em go, same fuckin’ cycle. Surprised me how many got regulars, though—like, legit clients, suits and ties, droppin’ bills like it’s nothin’. One girl, swear, had a judge on speed dial—fuckin’ hilarious, right? Gabagool? Ova here!

The Australia bound Teenage Girls of Carrickmacross

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So, I’m strolling down Main Street, right? The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m feeling all artsy. I’m like, “Today’s the day I’ll get inspired!” But then, bam! I trip over a loose cobblestone. Classic Carrickmacross, am I right? I’m sprawled out like a starfish, and this old lady just cackles at me. Thanks, lady. Real supportive.

Death Notice of Barry Kindlon (Carrickmacross, Monaghan)