Today it rains...great spits from the heavens. But the people plod on through the puddles and the splashes. Life goes on. The routine of existence. Sartre was right. The enemy to true freedom is being a slave to others. The weight of living and expectation drag us down. Hands up those who doesn't see joy any more, only sorrow and suffering.
Dublin is the greyest city in the world even in the blue shimmer of summer.
An apt backdrop for crime reporting - my raison d'etre.
Today, I am in a glum district court where a broken man, who once had it all, is charged with the murder of his wife. She was strangled with the flex of a hoover on Fenruary 28, 2006.
A moment of madness on his birthday. He took life away - a fit of rage.
And now he must pay the penalty. He pleads not guilty. He chews gum. He wears sandals. He slouches and yawns.
The murdered woman's six sisters sit a few yards away from him. They sob quietly to themselves. The proceedings only last 60 seconds. This is not real life. I feel utterly removed sitting in that dark court room. I am here to do a job - recording what is said for the lurid consumption of the sots who read tabloids.
I feel dead inside. I can barely raise my head and cross my legs without feeling nauseous.
Fellow reporters joke and smile before the Judge arrives. Cops with moustaches and careers mapped out look satisfied. They've got their man. Young attractive female barristers try to look businesslike. They are fooling only themselves.
I leave the court numb to what has transpired inside. I travel back to the office alone. A memory of childhood comes to mind. I miss that time. 1978. I smile for the first time today.
Now I sit in the newspaper's offices writing this blog having penned my court report. It will be read tomorrow by 500,000 people, or so my bosses boast.
I feel nothing for those who rely on the misery of others to add meaning to their lives.
Yours Truly,
The Black Dwarf
May 30, 2007
Wednesday, 30 May 2007
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