I can Imagine the bus journey from Clonmel Tipperary to Dublin and that it fit like a glove as an experience resembling the plight of his beloved heroes and their angst, The Smiths. Over the shit speakers on a coach, one of their laments on the loss of youth, travelling into a discovery of life and the acceptance his haircut would garner in the bigger city blasts a memory into his decision to leave.
He has a love hate relationship with Dublin like most of us, it helps and hinders us, but he leaves and after deciding to spend 10 years in London as a poster boy for Greenpeace, clubbing till he fell over and discovering politics sat well with stencil work, paint under the fingernails and turning heads with his message, he just became staunch. His ideas got clever, funny, the work said something no one else dared try and people started to remember his three-barreled name.
He talks about a good friend who had a birthday on the same day as Christmas day but sadly it was that particular Christmas day his friends father passed on.
So amid the post on his Face Book page about his loss most of his friends seemed to ignore the news and congratulate him on his birthday. This sparked a conversation inside Will’s head that made him think, how many ‘real’ friends can you actually have online? Social media cynicism started to rear its awful head, you dig a little deeper and all is not right, what you imagine helping does more hindrance.
This work is dedicated to all those who call each other on the phone as opposed to ‘like’ what you said online, to those who say what’s actually on their mind instead of covering up the days slowness with fast words, it might be if you were that busy in your life day to day you wouldn’t have that much time to waste on pointless status updates. Someone once said to me if you don’t have anything good worth saying, say nothing at all.