When I was a teen most creative types were hawking their wares in Dublin city Centre. Im not just talking about U2, The Frames etc., but all sorts of poets, artists, and hucksters. When I ended up getting paid - actual money - to do a PhD in the 80s, I could not believe my good fortune. The two, then three, then four of us lived in genteel poverty for several years before I got full time work in the 90s. And though I now realize that retirement is somewhat of a dream - I started working too late for that - nonetheless, the glorious good fortune of getting to talk and write for a living is flabbergasting to me. Better, perhaps, then selling poems on Grafton St.
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