
My father painted this portrait of me when I was around 5 or 6 years old. He began painting it when we lived in Sweden, and he finished later when we had moved to Ireland. I know this because I recall posing for it when we lived in our little apartment in Kalmar in the south east of Sweden. I have a softer recollection of the latter phase of the painting but I recognise the house outside the window as our neighbour’s house in Waterford, Ireland, so it was definitely created over a period of years. Seeing it again and studying the painting, it made me think of a few things. Firstly the way another person sees you is always filtered through a certain lens and you cannot control that. In this case I see it as a loving gaze of a father and that shines through in the soft energy of the light. It also feels fitting that I appear to be sitting down to write, which ultimately ended up being my own path as an artist & creative. Secondly I was taken with the idea of the drafts and phases a piece of art goes through, and that the completion often comes long after the initial creation. This gives me comfort knowing that even a painting of this scale (the original painting is 5m x 3m) has a series of iterations and drafts, just like my own work. And finally, the slightly hazy, almost ghostly elements to it feel like it is slightly unfinished, or perhaps it was an artistic choice. I like not knowing that. When is a piece of art done? That is a question every one of us must ponder with everything we create.







The Frames are arguably my favourite live band of all time. Their performances are uplifting and magical in a truly unique way. Glen Hansard has a gift for dissolving the division between performer and audience, which he believes comes from his time as a busker on Grafton Street. The show in the Royal Hospital Kilmainham was a long time coming. Originally billed as a 30th anniversary show back in 2020, the pandemic put paid to that moment, and now, two years later, the gig was finally staged in the glorious sunshine. It was well worth the wait, as I was transported back to the many shows from yesteryear, as they went through their back catalogue of anthemic rock tunes and lilting ballads. Having seen the band over 30 times(!) this was one to truly savour. A band of artists at their creative peak, sharing in a moment with those that adore them most. A special gig and a special night.





Had so much fun doing a spoken word gig on a barge tonight at Grand Canal Dock. Beautiful vibe, lovely setting, great community of people. Shared the stage with the hugely talented Colm Keegan, Lisa O’Neill and Alain Servant. Thanks to Erin Fornoff for organizing this little private gig and for the invitation to perform. Food for the soul.

My good friend Stephen James Smith kicked off his UK & Ireland tour last night in the Pepper Cannister church here in Dublin, and he was gracious enough to give me a support slot. We had a quick chat before I performed my Sine Metu poem, followed by my final piece from Three Men Talking About Things They Kinda Know About. It was a gorgeous evening of music and poetry, with a really special vibe. If you can catch the show on its current tour I highly recommend it.

I recently renovated my office at home and put up my treasured Bob Dylan poster on the wall. Not only is Bob Dylan an artistic hero of mine, he also plays a huge role for me in learning about the craft of great writing. As for the poster; the story of how I acquired it is one of my most treasured New York moments. So, in the spirit of sharing, here is a brand new poem I wrote to try and capture that moment when Bob and I crossed paths in his most famous New York haunts (metaphorically).
the hard rain surfacing from a gig in a dive bar where they are handing over chunks of the bar and pints of Courvoisier because they’re “Closing down, tonight motherfucker, tonight!” I ask for the huge poster of Bob Dylan hanging on the wet wall by the swaying bartender “You’ve got a lot of nerve, But, fuck yeah, take it bro” he says with a wink I throw back my drink balance Bob’s wiry frame over my head for shelter from the storm freewheelin’ outside into the concrete caverns the thin mercury sound of wild Village wind washing rain inside my shoes my heels still wandering to the subway station at 4th street positively singing


Bo Burnham’s Inside is still resonating deeply. His creative mind is at the peak of its powers. And it is such a brilliant snapshot of the digitally connected world we live in, as well as being a profoundly thoughtful exploration of the pandemic and our place in it. This song is a superb standalone slice of genius, and also a great calling card for Bo Burnham’s mighty mix of humour and musical mastery. I have to admit I pegged him completely wrong and assumed (incorrectly) that he was not for me. After seeing this I will watch anything he makes. If it wasn’t obvious already. I urge you to watch it . It is pure creativity and simultaneously it is a study of the creative process. So much more than meets the eye.

I watched Inside by Bo Burnham on Netflix last night. It was like nothing I have ever seen and I was utterly blown away by it. It’s listed as a comedy special but that doesn’t come close to describing it. It’s a meditation on life during the pandemic, it’s about creativity and the creative process, it’s about mental health, it’s about the digital world we live in, and ultimately it is a really beautiful, clever film. It is time very well spent in the company of a unique mind. Give it a watch, I’m going to watch it again.