Eat, eat, sleep, write
Still alive and eating. I even wrote something! Hurray for writing!

I miss friends in Hobart. I miss family. But I like it here, too.

I wish I had a teleporter.

Yay, Christmas love
You all can stay. You're all good. Except for you there -- you better quit that, I'm warning you...

Been ringing up the rellies and friends, saying hello, hearing their patent surprise down all the millions of fibre optic cable between us.

'Are you in Hobart?
'No, I'm in Dublin.'
'Oh. (pause as the munificent, shining light of comprehension dawns in their eyes...) Oh!'

Ah, bless... They're lovely, really they are.

So, presents were good, chocolate was good, even my tiramisu was good! Mm, yum. Mark had a weird craving for it and insisted that I make it, and what else could I do but graciously acquiesce?

Gourmet Magazine's Tiramisu
Serves 8-10

Ingredients
Espresso Syrup
WATER, 1/3 cup
SUGAR, 1/2 cup
ESPRESSO, 2/3 cup strong brewed
ITALIAN OR DOMESTIC BRANDY, 1/4 cup, optional

Mascarpone Filling
HEAVY WHIPPING CREAM, 1-1/2 cups
SUGAR, 1/3 cup
VANILLA EXTRACT, 2 teaspoons
MASCARPONE CHEESE, 1 pound, softened to room temperature
SAVOYARDI, 1/2 pound, imported or domestic ladyfingers, or sliced sponge cake
COCOA POWDER

Directions for Syrup
Combine water and sugar in a small saucepan.
Bring to a simmer, stirring occasionally to dissolve sugar.
Remove from heat, cool.
Add coffee and optional brandy.

Directions for Filling
Whip cream with sugar and vanilla until soft peaks form.
Fold cream into softened mascarpone.

Directions for Assembly
Place a layer of the savoyardi, ladyfingers or sponge cake slices in the bottom of a shallow medium-sized baking dish or gratin dish.
Sprinkle with half the syrup.
Spread with half the filling.
Repeat with remaining savoiardi, syrup and filling, spreading the top smooth, using a metal spatula.
Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for up to 24 hours before serving.
Immediately before serving place cocoa in a fine strainer and shake a light coating on surface.

For afternoon lunch, we settled into a cheese platter extravaganza of four different cheeses (including lovely, smelly blue cheese), two patés, two boxes of water crackers and a bottle of champagne. All the rich food for which there's no reason to eat at any other time of the year suddenly seems so apropos now.

Feliz Navidad y Prospero Año Felicidad!

Ticking lists
I think the best way to feel any sort of forward momentum is to tick off tasks completed on one's to-do list. Helps with raising the optimism levels.

Went to a friend's Christmas party last night. A very groovy time, I had. There was lovely mulled wine in her lovely apartment full of lovely, friendly people. Consumption on two occasions of the red, syrupy liquid has led me to conclude that the alcohol hit arrives soon after you tip back your head from licking down the last squirrelly drop. I'm not complaining...

Time, time, time
See what's become of me
Urgh, I think I have a lot, but really there's not enough. And still I am magnetised by the screen; its flatness binds me to it.

Vile, evil devil, begone!

Sorry, I don't think I'm making sense. Shall I show you my to-do list?

• Finish writing co-authored bit of prose.
  
• Select poems to send back to literary journal in Australia.
  
• Have a shower.
  
• Buy egg-beater, mascarpone cheese, brandy and heavy cream to make the tiramisu that Mark's had a sudden craving for.
  
• Get ready for another party tonight.
  
• Write more poems.
  
• Edit more reviews.
  
• Read all the .pdfs I have stored in the 'puter.
  
• Get s'more sleep.

*gasp*

Party here, party there, everywhere a party
Drink, drink, guzzle, eat, indulge, bleary-eyed staggering to the mirror, too bright lights, eat milky crunchy breakfast, gulp squirmy grapefruit juice, type type type, click click click

Wash, dress, type type type, click click click, out the window the weather passes by, hunger pangs and bangs against stomach walls, growl

Time to go, party waits, drink Bailey's Galliano with orange juice Southern Comfort and lemonade, talk laugh think, icecubes shiver and clink

Time to go catch the bus, food splatters on grass and ground, someone's bleary head dizzy with sleep leaning into stranger's shoulders, laugh and point and laugh, they get off, we get off

Walk walk walk home bed laugh sleep

Hmm, off to Justice I go
Practising before meeting with authority-type people who are in a position to play keepsies-away between me and Ireland.

Well, let's see how this works now, okay? I'm a writer. No, that's not right (write?). Let's start again.

I write.

Scribo ergo sum.

Yo no soy marinero. I am not a captain.

Oh, crap, what do I do now? Get a hold of yourself and get your story straight, woman!

Dammit.

My tree is bent
I bought a wee tree. It is a little bent from where it has been leaning towards the sun, straining for that vital photosynthetic process that keeps it alive. It is minimally decorated. There is a gold bow tied at the top, as if it were a spray of hair on a little green-tressed child. There is a green bauble tied to a twig with red ribbon. There is a bell with its red ribbon. It tinkled when I took it home on the bus, but not enough to be irksome. Everyone seemed to look at me in the crowded bus, but that may have been my imagination. They were probably all jealous of my little bent tree, because my little bent tree is an individual, one of a kind, the runt of a now long-gone litter. But they can't have my tree. My tree is here at home, with me.

Sentimentally yours
It was good to find out what's been going on in my absence. My brother's little boy sounds extremely winsome and cute. Only some months old and already a genius, apparently. Makes me smile to hear of it.

I also rang up a friend with another birthday and bundle of joy. Gushed to her all my news and I loved hearing her voice. Talking on the phone, you feel so near to each other.

Not so sentimental, but still exciting was going to the studio film set as an extra. Ended up not being used but I still got paid, which is just a bonus. An extremely interesting experience, and I'm quite keen to do it again.

Today, first thing on the agenda, is to send off a query submission to a poetry publisher. It must be done.

Oh my cod, it's early
I hope the phone call to go to the studio and be an extra was not a prank because this is mighty funky, and not entirely in a good way.

Trial run to Bray yesterday went off without a hitch, ably assisted as I was by the lovely Mark. We even detoured to a secondhand record/CD/DVD/video shop that also stocked some quirky zines. This gave me a fab idea and I will provide more detail in due course.

Hooray for fab ideas!

Wake up at 5.30am
So I have to be at this studio, which is about 40 minutes away (I think) by the Dart. And I have to wear white sneakers.

Curiouser and curiouser...

So I'm going to have to negotiate getting there. I will do a trial run this afternoon so I can calculate how long it will take. Hopefully, the traffic will be light on so that I can get there quickly.

Here's to imminent (ha!) stardom!

Little star?
Umm, I've not mentioned this, in case I come off sillier than usual, but I signed up for this casting database about two weeks ago, and now I think I might be called to be an extra for something on TV or a movie.

Gimme a little woohoo. Ain't that just perfect timing?

Another living end
Farewell drinks last night at The Duke. I'm not much of a drinker, but I have not drunk so much. I guess the occasion demanded it, really. My drinks of choice? Baileys neat (no ice, dudes), alternating with Galliano and orange juice. Very classy.

Do poets really need to be drunkards/drug addicts to be good? Ah, that's a silly little cliché that everyone should dispense with. I shared my vision of what poets should be like, and it sounded really bad at the end of it. Can't have everything... but I'm a dreamer. In a way, that's my job.

So drinks until very late, and I'm just having a quiet morning. They sent me off into the big bad world with a lovely card, some pocket money and a copy of the 2004 Writers and Artists' Yearbook. What more does a poet need?

Work berk
Bundled myself onto the bus and into work. This killer flu has laid everyone low, like a bowling ball with bowling pins.

Actually, I see this end-of-work thing as a mixed blessing. Sure, I won't have as much money, but really, is Christmas a good time to deal with cranky, stressed, impolite, even downright rude dudes? No, I didn't think so.

Mark emailed me this link about a library robot made in Japan. Yeah, but can it deal with psycho-customers from Hell? No, didn't think so.

Revamped
More writerly fun over my previous incarnation, re-named Ivy is here. Are you sure you can stand so much solipsism?

Okay, today
Feeling relatively normal. Writing, writing and editing.

I watch condensation drip down the glass as frost on the grass slowly retreats from the sun's heat.

Poke out my tongue
I hope I get well soon. I feel like I'm being led up the path to a state of funky ennui.

Been reading out loud the Rough Guide to Paris to Mark, who's getting quite hyped about seeing Versailles, riding on the canal-boats, and eating all the groovy street food. March/April/May would probably be the best times to go, but whether we'd have enough in our collective pockets is another thing.

If in doubt, watch a movie. DVDs to be precise. Bring on the Special Features. I love peeking inside the film, seeing what bits aren't obvious from an initial viewing. You know, insider information. This week:

Enemy of the State
Heartbreakers
Stir of Echoes
8mm
Family Man

Now see which two I chose, which two were Mark's and which one we both agreed on.

My confession
I've just been Googling my friend. Sorry, friend, but you never write.

In other news, I'm in my furry slippers and robe. Outside, the day is gray and I've crossed off one more item on my to-do list.

Tonight, I might not be well enough to go dancing. Dammit.

Stay
Okay, more dot-points.

• Still drinking green tea.
  
• Now have choc eggs on hand. Also mandarins, a grapefruit, and various medicines.
  
• Have sent off various bits and bobs for likely income-producing prospects.
  
• Cross fingers, knock wood... anything else for luck?
  
• Twin Peaks series on DVD, plus pilot episode for two nights' loan!
  
• Wondering whether I want to live in a place where they call their coins 'p'.
  
• Now have two writing projects, plus the editing thing.
  
• Thank Cod for computers.
  

Ah, frigate!
I'm home early from work. Will not get to schmooze and meet up with famous authors or likely publishers who will give me a new job.

Oh, and it's not Saturday week, it's Thursday week. Just to cap it all off.

Briefs
Not the underwear kind, but the point-form sort.

• I think I might be catching Mark's cold.
  
• I finish work Saturday week. This means I am imminently lacking funds unless I do something.
  
• I'm having yummy green tea.
  
• A Booker Prize winner is coming around the bookshop tonight for this book-launch.

Getting the hang of it
I don't think these days off by myself are very productive for me. Not really sure what to do!

'Get off the internet, girl!' my inner voice tells me.
'Shut up, this is fun,' the other one says.

*sigh*