Uí Fidgenti
The Uí Fidgenti, Fidgeinti, Fidgente, or Fidgeinte (/iː ˈfiːjɛnti/ or /ˈfiːjɛntə/; "descendents of, or of the tribe of, Fidgenti") were an early kingdom of northern Munster in Ireland, situated mostly in modern County Limerick, but extending into County Clare and County Tipperary, and possibly even County Kerry and County Cork, at maximum extents, which varied over time. They flourished from about 377 A.D. (assumption of power of Fidgheinte) to 977 (death of Donovan), although they continued to devolve for another three hundred years. They have been given various origins among both the early or proto-Eóganachta and among the Dáirine by different scholars working in a number of traditions, with no agreement ever reached or appearing reachable.
Genealogies deriving from the Ui Fidgheinte include O'Billry, O’Bruadair (Brouder), O'Cennfhaelaidh (Kenneally/Kenealy), Clerkin, Collins (Cuilen), O'Connell, O'Dea, Donovan, Flannery, O'Heffernans, Kenealyes, Mac Eneiry, O'Kealy (Queally), O'Quin, and Tracy.
Podcasts:
Ketchum
by: Ben LeeR.J. Johnson/B. Lee
Today I got my call from Ketchum Idaho
From Hemingway and railways and whiskey wine and snow
But if you've never been in pain before then I guess you wouldn't know
I'm leaving in a while now for Ketchum's icy sting
To walk and fish and write some songs, to stay up late and drink
And if I stay there long enough then I'll never feel a thing
And Ketchum will be good to you if are strong and brave
She caters to the melancholy every single day
And babbles like a drunk old man unloading all his pain
I'll lock myself in Ketchum's stare I'll make her my whole world
I'm gonna roam the Ketchum streets to find a Ketchum girl
And then I'll let her break my heart 'cos that's all that I do well
The valley will become my home her hills will keep me safe
I'll give her songs about my soul when there's no soul left to take
And I'll forget I ever lived in any other place
And it may seem inevitable I would love this fate
So beautiful and tragic and her heroes can't escape
And Hemingway he shot himself one July evening late
But me I couldn't bring myself to bloody Ketchum's name
Underneath her passion boils, never spoils surface tame
I'll slowly let her kill me with her lonely wind and rain