I'M GONNA RAMBLE NOW

Okay, here goes: I\'m sitting in a Kilkenny coffee house trying to think of something extremely potent and brilliant to write down. I have a feeling that it won\'t exactly happen as planned, so at this point I\'m settling for pretty much anything. Literally, anything.
Anyway, after staring at the wall opposite me, and deciding that the waitress is somewhat of an asshole, I begin to cut open deep subject matters with Shalon.
\"You can\'t blame men for noticing things like that. It\'s not like we don\'t enjoy looking at cute guys. I mean, if Tom Waits walked by here, I\'d be looking. I wouldn\'t necessarily tell my boyfriend what I\'m thinking about, but that\'s irrelevant.\"
\"Yeah. I\'m definitely a girl who enjoys good-looking men.\"
\"Of course, with men it\'s a little more extreme.\"
\"Well, men can look at a girl\'s breasts or ass-- it\'s more obvious. We don\'t have that as much. It\'s not like I\'m going to be looking at a guy\'s penis.\"
\"Yeah. I look at their faces. And, if he\'s really witty and cool to talk to, then I\'ll look at his ass. No-- seriously, if he can actually hold out in conversation, then he\'ll become even better looking. And vice versa.\"
Pause.
\"Biological warfare is definitely going to be the next kind of war. It\'s already happening now, except that it\'s made to look like nature\'s defect.\"
\"Yeah.\"
\"Just to put that out there, since we\'re already on the subject.\"
All I know for sure is Ireland is the greatest country on this sorry planet. Yesterday we went to this little country pub in the middle of nowhere. It looks like a living room that a crowd of people happened to have stumbled into with pints of Guinness. A lot of old people come here-- especially Friday nights-- because they have a session with the Ryan Brothers (we are officially their groupies now, I think). I drank three hot chocolates. Cyril Ryan came over and asked us what we were drinking. When I said \"hot chocolate\" he stared at me with a face that was fucking priceless. I just wasn\'t in a mood to drink, that\'s all. I had a cold, and I knew with a pint of anything I\'d be saying things like: \"...well, the thing about Leadbelly is that he has more of a folk genre. I mean, I love him, I really do-- but to me, Charley Patton or Robert Johnson would symbolize the epitome of the blues a little better-- real Delta blues that is. I\'m not talking about urban blues or-- huh? Oh, they\'re all musicians. Yeah. Leadbelly was a musician.\"
Being sober, I found myself talking to a police officer from New Jersey about Americans never getting out of their country, about Ireland, and about our ancestors (both from the Austro-Hungarian empire). He moved off, and I went outside to get some fresh air. I stumbled onto a guy lounging around the doorway.
\"Hi.\"
\"Hey.\"
\"What are you watching?\"
(I had my camcorder like a true, obnoxious tourist.)
\"Nothing. I\'m just filming this price list.\"
\"You\'re the girl that went over to the bar before?\"
\"Uh,.. yeah. I was looking for sugar.\"
\"Well, I thought you were good lookin\', anyway.\"
\"Thanks.\"
God, a few days earlier, this gypsy kid offered me money to sleep with him. His words exactly: \"Come with me now. Just two minutes. I pay you.\" Priceless. I shall treasure that moment until the day I die. Especially funny \'cause he had just begged a Euro off me.
I\'m leaving in a few days. It\'s a sad thing. This place is as decent as it can possibly get-- especially if you don\'t listen to the news, and forget that there is more to the world than just this little, electric-green island.