Revamped
More writerly fun over my previous incarnation, re-named Ivy is here. Are you sure you can stand so much solipsism?
Monday, December 08, 2003
Sunday, December 07, 2003
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.
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.
Friday, December 05, 2003
Thursday, December 04, 2003
Stay
Okay, more dot-points.
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.
Wednesday, December 03, 2003
Monday, December 01, 2003
Sunday, November 30, 2003
French toast
Mark's sicky today, so I made him some french toast for brekkie, served with serious maple syrup yum. Then we had a walk around Terenure, just to see what was around our next-neighbourhood.
We wandered over to the boulangerie in Rathgar, bought some sticks of bread and cheese, and had that for lunch. And now, here I am, blogging about it.
Mark's sicky today, so I made him some french toast for brekkie, served with serious maple syrup yum. Then we had a walk around Terenure, just to see what was around our next-neighbourhood.
We wandered over to the boulangerie in Rathgar, bought some sticks of bread and cheese, and had that for lunch. And now, here I am, blogging about it.
Thursday, November 27, 2003
Wednesday, November 26, 2003
Who?
According to this news item that Mark emailed to me (yeah, that's right. We don't talk, we email), some so-and-so's made an attempt to break David Boon's record for number of beers drunk on a plane, or some such thing.
Anyway, the record remains unbroken. Meanwhile, the rest of the world is going, Who? But all ye Tasmanians and cricket fans, we know who Boonie is.
Carn, Boonie!
According to this news item that Mark emailed to me (yeah, that's right. We don't talk, we email), some so-and-so's made an attempt to break David Boon's record for number of beers drunk on a plane, or some such thing.
Anyway, the record remains unbroken. Meanwhile, the rest of the world is going, Who? But all ye Tasmanians and cricket fans, we know who Boonie is.
Carn, Boonie!
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
I forgot
I've been meaning to post one item here. Don't know if it falls under gossip or odd trivia or what. Anyway...
You know Clive James, right? The writer? The guy who sometimes turns up on TV with a weird accent that's sorta Brit, sorta Aussie, sorta Yank? He was at the bookshop last week, signing books during a walkabout of the Dublin bookshops. Anyway...
He's got hairy ears.
That's all.
I've been meaning to post one item here. Don't know if it falls under gossip or odd trivia or what. Anyway...
You know Clive James, right? The writer? The guy who sometimes turns up on TV with a weird accent that's sorta Brit, sorta Aussie, sorta Yank? He was at the bookshop last week, signing books during a walkabout of the Dublin bookshops. Anyway...
He's got hairy ears.
That's all.
Monday, November 24, 2003
A bit of kulcha
What a groovy weekend I've just had.
Went to see Beckett's Waiting for Godot at the Gate Theatre, which was some kind of special. Although I didn't really get off on the titchiness it induced in me during the second act, I'm glad I went and saw it all the same. And just like I have a need to find the underlying meaning of Mulholland Drive, I think I have decoded Beckett's play.
I was reading a couple of pages from his work at the bookshop, and it is really quite compulsive. I'm tempted to buy a copy. Maybe I'll just flail around a couple of secondhand bookshops until I find one.
Anyway, Beckett was my Saturday night, while Tarantino was my Sunday. And I, like many others, liked Kill Bill.
Finished reading a proof copy of Garrison Keillor's Love Me, which had quite a good start, but seemed to flag a bit in the end. The use of poems in the novel was quite intriguing, though.
And so I am here today -- my day off. I've just polished off my muesli and grapefruit juice (sour face) and I'm ready to procrastinate.
What a groovy weekend I've just had.
Went to see Beckett's Waiting for Godot at the Gate Theatre, which was some kind of special. Although I didn't really get off on the titchiness it induced in me during the second act, I'm glad I went and saw it all the same. And just like I have a need to find the underlying meaning of Mulholland Drive, I think I have decoded Beckett's play.
I was reading a couple of pages from his work at the bookshop, and it is really quite compulsive. I'm tempted to buy a copy. Maybe I'll just flail around a couple of secondhand bookshops until I find one.
Anyway, Beckett was my Saturday night, while Tarantino was my Sunday. And I, like many others, liked Kill Bill.
Finished reading a proof copy of Garrison Keillor's Love Me, which had quite a good start, but seemed to flag a bit in the end. The use of poems in the novel was quite intriguing, though.
And so I am here today -- my day off. I've just polished off my muesli and grapefruit juice (sour face) and I'm ready to procrastinate.
Friday, November 21, 2003
Quick quick
Did some dancing tonight, and boy, my hips kinda hurt.
All the lights are up in the city, Christmas trees, street decorations, all blinking and colourful; the night seems bright and clear, people flowing around us as we walk to catch a bus home.
I'm looking forward to my dinner. Did I say it's now just after 10pm?
Did some dancing tonight, and boy, my hips kinda hurt.
All the lights are up in the city, Christmas trees, street decorations, all blinking and colourful; the night seems bright and clear, people flowing around us as we walk to catch a bus home.
I'm looking forward to my dinner. Did I say it's now just after 10pm?
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
Monday, November 17, 2003
No peeled grapes
But very happy, anyway. I've just received a response from an online journal (that actually pays for poems), though only after a little prodding from me, of course. Ahem. Waiting almost a year for a yea or nay is just cause for a prod, don't you think?
So, his response was quite encouraging: he 'nearly' took one. Cool cool cool.
I sent off a submission today, my first in a long while. I might even try the poetry publishers now. Maybe.
Still I am gripped by doubt. This must stop.
But very happy, anyway. I've just received a response from an online journal (that actually pays for poems), though only after a little prodding from me, of course. Ahem. Waiting almost a year for a yea or nay is just cause for a prod, don't you think?
So, his response was quite encouraging: he 'nearly' took one. Cool cool cool.
I sent off a submission today, my first in a long while. I might even try the poetry publishers now. Maybe.
Still I am gripped by doubt. This must stop.
Friday, November 14, 2003
The wind
It whistles behind the board that covers the hole of the fireplace, up along the throat of the chimney, like the last exhalations from rattling lungs. It shakes the windows in their grooves, and flings raindrops against the glass, sends leaves skittering along the path, children let out from school at long last. The telephone lines sway and sway, and on the lawn, a shirt lies down like a dead body. Today, he rides to work, the wind's cold grasp snaking down his neck, presses on his cheeks, steals his breath away.
It whistles behind the board that covers the hole of the fireplace, up along the throat of the chimney, like the last exhalations from rattling lungs. It shakes the windows in their grooves, and flings raindrops against the glass, sends leaves skittering along the path, children let out from school at long last. The telephone lines sway and sway, and on the lawn, a shirt lies down like a dead body. Today, he rides to work, the wind's cold grasp snaking down his neck, presses on his cheeks, steals his breath away.
Wednesday, November 12, 2003
Oh, poop
Just lost an entry.
What'd I say? I said I was watching Mark eat a Galaxy chocolate. Now I'm eating a bit. Also, that I was tired. And that sometimes I don't know what I'm saying when I'm tired.
People here don't know what to make of the beautiful weather we've been having lately. The Irish are so fatalistic. They're funny. I love it, though. I say, Revel!
Just lost an entry.
What'd I say? I said I was watching Mark eat a Galaxy chocolate. Now I'm eating a bit. Also, that I was tired. And that sometimes I don't know what I'm saying when I'm tired.
People here don't know what to make of the beautiful weather we've been having lately. The Irish are so fatalistic. They're funny. I love it, though. I say, Revel!
Monday, November 10, 2003
Saturday, November 08, 2003
Personal barometers
In Hobart, there is Mt Wellington by which one can tell what the weather might be like for that day. If it had snow, it was going to be cold. If not, it might be okay. Here in Dublin, I have the window-panes.
The past couple of days, there have been no fogging-up of the windows, and like a borne-out prediction, they have been mild, beautiful, unseasonal winter days:
I love these good days
when weather does not deserve
its reputation
Today, there is a little fog around the edges, and Mark had to come back to put on a heavier layer, after stepping out in just a t-shirt and jacket.
What's your barometer?
In Hobart, there is Mt Wellington by which one can tell what the weather might be like for that day. If it had snow, it was going to be cold. If not, it might be okay. Here in Dublin, I have the window-panes.
The past couple of days, there have been no fogging-up of the windows, and like a borne-out prediction, they have been mild, beautiful, unseasonal winter days:
I love these good days
when weather does not deserve
its reputation
Today, there is a little fog around the edges, and Mark had to come back to put on a heavier layer, after stepping out in just a t-shirt and jacket.
What's your barometer?
Dancing fools
I forgot how much dancing makes my hips hurt. I think I may be overcompensating for when Mark goes forward with his right foot and my own left foot goes back in response, because that is the leg which was aching the most yesterday.
But still it's fun. Good to be dancing again. And we were, by far, the most advanced couple on the floor. Aren't you impressed?
I forgot how much dancing makes my hips hurt. I think I may be overcompensating for when Mark goes forward with his right foot and my own left foot goes back in response, because that is the leg which was aching the most yesterday.
But still it's fun. Good to be dancing again. And we were, by far, the most advanced couple on the floor. Aren't you impressed?
Thursday, November 06, 2003
Belated pumpkin
Meet Edward. Well, actually, you probably will never ever get to meet Edward because the last time I saw him, he was in pieces after a successful suicide bid out of our bedroom window.
Don't ask.
Anyhoo... Shh! I have a secret. I'm not telling but it's writing-related. Don't worry, not getting published, but am writing. Very cool.
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
Wasabi peas yum
Ah-huh, doesn't get much better than this.
Ooh-ooh, would it be terribly bad of me to exploit a contact if they know someone who can help me get my poetry manuscript published?
Maybe nothing will come out of it, but I got to try.
Sometimes I think I should resign myself to waiting till people are clamouring for my poetry to be in a book.
It could be a long wait. Tee-hee!
Ah-huh, doesn't get much better than this.
Ooh-ooh, would it be terribly bad of me to exploit a contact if they know someone who can help me get my poetry manuscript published?
Maybe nothing will come out of it, but I got to try.
Sometimes I think I should resign myself to waiting till people are clamouring for my poetry to be in a book.
It could be a long wait. Tee-hee!
Monday, November 03, 2003
Listening to the 80s
As a leaving present from my previous place of employment here in Ireland, I was given a book of poems by Irish poets (of course) and a presentation case of eight CDs of 80s music.
Okay, I like 80s music. I do. There is no 'but' to this paragraph. I was just surprised that someone would give this to me. Maybe it was the way I'd sing along to it at work, or the fact that I'd put one 80s music at every opportunity that gave people this idea that I would enjoy it. Yeah, that might be it.
The thing is, I don't play it enough, you know? Gotta be in the mood for the ol' 80s, which was why it was perfect for work. It seemed to provide a certain escapism there. At home, it just feels like a nostalgia kick. Ah, well.
It's nearly time to leave this second bookshop. And I've got to hustle (as in 'work hard', not 'sell') my butt once more.
As Ned Kelly once said, 'I am an outlaw, and my orders must be obeyed. Make no noise. Raise no alarm. Keep your hands up and stand against the wall.'
Oh, hang on, that's not what I'd meant to write.
Nevermind, that'll do.
As a leaving present from my previous place of employment here in Ireland, I was given a book of poems by Irish poets (of course) and a presentation case of eight CDs of 80s music.
Okay, I like 80s music. I do. There is no 'but' to this paragraph. I was just surprised that someone would give this to me. Maybe it was the way I'd sing along to it at work, or the fact that I'd put one 80s music at every opportunity that gave people this idea that I would enjoy it. Yeah, that might be it.
The thing is, I don't play it enough, you know? Gotta be in the mood for the ol' 80s, which was why it was perfect for work. It seemed to provide a certain escapism there. At home, it just feels like a nostalgia kick. Ah, well.
It's nearly time to leave this second bookshop. And I've got to hustle (as in 'work hard', not 'sell') my butt once more.
As Ned Kelly once said, 'I am an outlaw, and my orders must be obeyed. Make no noise. Raise no alarm. Keep your hands up and stand against the wall.'
Oh, hang on, that's not what I'd meant to write.
Nevermind, that'll do.
Saturday, November 01, 2003
Last night, he said
"It's like a war zone out there." Although fireworks are illegal in Ireland, you wouldn't have thought so from the view outside our living-room window, where we had front row seats to our very own four-hour fireworks display.
When we stepped outside, the streets were littered with lolly wrappers and the air was smoky with the smell of cordite. Madness.
As I made my way home from a very tentative day at work (because I was still just getting back into the swing of things; still sick, you know, but getting better thank you very much), I was sitting at the top of this double-decker bus (trés cool), when I heard this splash behind me.
At first, I thought, 'Oh no, some poor dork's opened their water bottle and it's spilled everywhere.' But it was worse than that.
I looked over my shoulder, and in actuality, it was some poor girl who'd just whoopsied all down the stairwell, where smelly vom cascaded against the wall, down the steps and over this woolly-hatted dude's sleeve.
That sharp acidic smell followed me home.
But the upside is, I'm getting sausages and mash for dinner tonight. Just as soon as Mark gets home. Yay!
"It's like a war zone out there." Although fireworks are illegal in Ireland, you wouldn't have thought so from the view outside our living-room window, where we had front row seats to our very own four-hour fireworks display.
When we stepped outside, the streets were littered with lolly wrappers and the air was smoky with the smell of cordite. Madness.
As I made my way home from a very tentative day at work (because I was still just getting back into the swing of things; still sick, you know, but getting better thank you very much), I was sitting at the top of this double-decker bus (trés cool), when I heard this splash behind me.
At first, I thought, 'Oh no, some poor dork's opened their water bottle and it's spilled everywhere.' But it was worse than that.
I looked over my shoulder, and in actuality, it was some poor girl who'd just whoopsied all down the stairwell, where smelly vom cascaded against the wall, down the steps and over this woolly-hatted dude's sleeve.
That sharp acidic smell followed me home.
But the upside is, I'm getting sausages and mash for dinner tonight. Just as soon as Mark gets home. Yay!
Friday, October 31, 2003
Happy Halloween!
We've got a pumpkin called Mr Edward E Pumpkinhead. Yay!
And Internet, too! I'm blogging from home and it feels so good. Been ill with a cold that feels suspiciously like the flu; this despite getting a flu injection.
Haiku seems to be the way I'm slipping back into the writing realm. Feels weird.
We've got a pumpkin called Mr Edward E Pumpkinhead. Yay!
And Internet, too! I'm blogging from home and it feels so good. Been ill with a cold that feels suspiciously like the flu; this despite getting a flu injection.
Haiku seems to be the way I'm slipping back into the writing realm. Feels weird.
Friday, October 24, 2003
Saturday, October 18, 2003
Galway
So, we're out of Dublin. Finally! Found a cosy attic space in a bed and breakfast (which, incidentally, does not serve breakfast, but such are the vagaries of travel), and now I'm setting down my impressions.
It's a very youth-centric city. Quite cool. And with a fair bit of Spanish influence here.
The train ride over was lulling. Threading our way past fields that mirrored Scotland, and Tasmania, and a lot of pastoral landscapes.
Now hopefully we'll find a place to eat. I'm starvin'!
So, we're out of Dublin. Finally! Found a cosy attic space in a bed and breakfast (which, incidentally, does not serve breakfast, but such are the vagaries of travel), and now I'm setting down my impressions.
It's a very youth-centric city. Quite cool. And with a fair bit of Spanish influence here.
The train ride over was lulling. Threading our way past fields that mirrored Scotland, and Tasmania, and a lot of pastoral landscapes.
Now hopefully we'll find a place to eat. I'm starvin'!
Wednesday, October 15, 2003
Yes!
Among the many good things happening, I also wrote a haiku yesterday:
Silk threads wind-jostled
red leaf caught between the bars
soft saw-tooth ripples
Our home is lovely. I gloat when I think of it. Bought silver cutlery! No longer have to use plastic fork for breakfast.
Now all we need a music-maker. While one of the perks of my bookshop job is free CDs, sadly, I have nothing on which to play quite-defunct discs.
This coming weekend, Mark and I have finally pulled out our collective fingers to arrange a day off. We get three days in which to explore the rest of Ireland. Now that warrants a huzzah.
Huzzah!
Among the many good things happening, I also wrote a haiku yesterday:
Silk threads wind-jostled
red leaf caught between the bars
soft saw-tooth ripples
Our home is lovely. I gloat when I think of it. Bought silver cutlery! No longer have to use plastic fork for breakfast.
Now all we need a music-maker. While one of the perks of my bookshop job is free CDs, sadly, I have nothing on which to play quite-defunct discs.
This coming weekend, Mark and I have finally pulled out our collective fingers to arrange a day off. We get three days in which to explore the rest of Ireland. Now that warrants a huzzah.
Huzzah!
Saturday, October 11, 2003
It's ours!
We have it. Our very own place. So looking forward to moving in and stamping ourselves all over it.
So if any of you need a place to stay over (one at a time, ladies and gents!), there is a living-room floor in Rathgar that has your name on it. But be nice!
Now, excuse me while I take a sip of this nice French merlot.
We have it. Our very own place. So looking forward to moving in and stamping ourselves all over it.
So if any of you need a place to stay over (one at a time, ladies and gents!), there is a living-room floor in Rathgar that has your name on it. But be nice!
Now, excuse me while I take a sip of this nice French merlot.
Friday, October 10, 2003
Quiet glee
High: Day off!
Low: But I work tomorrow.
High: Day off on Sunday!
Low: _________ [No low at present that I can see.]
So, I've got two names of literary agencies to whom I can apply for work. I'm thinking something occasional might be good for me, so that I've got time to write.
House-hunting is also proceeding apace. Possible areas of habitation (or is that co-habitation?) are Harold's Cross [nice, kinda olde worlde swanky], Portobello [same, but near a groovy little canal], and Rathgar [don't know much about this suburb, but it would be close in to a supermarket—always a bonus].
I suggest we genuflect before the benign house-hunting gods (Lares and Penates?) to grant me safe asylum somewhere with a big kitchen, and no psycho neighbours.
High: Day off!
Low: But I work tomorrow.
High: Day off on Sunday!
Low: _________ [No low at present that I can see.]
So, I've got two names of literary agencies to whom I can apply for work. I'm thinking something occasional might be good for me, so that I've got time to write.
House-hunting is also proceeding apace. Possible areas of habitation (or is that co-habitation?) are Harold's Cross [nice, kinda olde worlde swanky], Portobello [same, but near a groovy little canal], and Rathgar [don't know much about this suburb, but it would be close in to a supermarket—always a bonus].
I suggest we genuflect before the benign house-hunting gods (Lares and Penates?) to grant me safe asylum somewhere with a big kitchen, and no psycho neighbours.
Thursday, October 09, 2003
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
Monday, October 06, 2003
Early to rise
Yay! Catching up on sleep-debt is trés cool. I feel so rested now.
Yesterday, I went to see Matchstick Men, starring Nicholas Cage. It was quite good. Had a bag of popcorn with me. Somehow, I've been inculcated to think that movies aren't the same without some consumables nearby.
Just finished reading The Devil Wears Prada: a scary insight into magazine publishing, but still fluffy for all that. Now I'm onto Umberto Eco's Baudolino, heavily touted as being equivalent to The Name of the Rose. I'll give you the verdict when I've finished.
I'm powering through my books. Have also finished Fast Food Nation. Now that's a scary read. No more McFries for me.
Yay! Catching up on sleep-debt is trés cool. I feel so rested now.
Yesterday, I went to see Matchstick Men, starring Nicholas Cage. It was quite good. Had a bag of popcorn with me. Somehow, I've been inculcated to think that movies aren't the same without some consumables nearby.
Just finished reading The Devil Wears Prada: a scary insight into magazine publishing, but still fluffy for all that. Now I'm onto Umberto Eco's Baudolino, heavily touted as being equivalent to The Name of the Rose. I'll give you the verdict when I've finished.
I'm powering through my books. Have also finished Fast Food Nation. Now that's a scary read. No more McFries for me.
Sunday, October 05, 2003
Wednesday, October 01, 2003
Yes, I know
But really, these bags under my eyes testify to everything. Too many Baileys? No, never. Nuh-uh!
Baileys is yummy, though.
Why is it that one can't ever sleep when one really needs to?
I have reviews to edit. Need more motivation! Can one find motivation at the bottom of a butterscotch schnapps bottle, I wonder?
Lack of sleep certainly helps tangential thinking. Though some people would probably call it loopy thinking.
So this is a glimpse of my state of mind today. Scary, huh?
But really, these bags under my eyes testify to everything. Too many Baileys? No, never. Nuh-uh!
Baileys is yummy, though.
Why is it that one can't ever sleep when one really needs to?
I have reviews to edit. Need more motivation! Can one find motivation at the bottom of a butterscotch schnapps bottle, I wonder?
Lack of sleep certainly helps tangential thinking. Though some people would probably call it loopy thinking.
So this is a glimpse of my state of mind today. Scary, huh?
Thursday, September 25, 2003
Long time coming
I've neglected my poetry for the last few months. Now I smell the breath of autumn and it is as crisp as a freshly-bitten apple.
I love autumn. It is the season most conducive to writing. I wonder why that is.
Looking at the other poetry books on the shelves at work, I have to quash my squiggles of envy. Why do I want a book so much? Not for the money. Oh, no. Ho-ho-ho-ho. Money? I think not. What then?
The reason is inarticulable (just like that word). But I must send my work out. I must. Papers, ink, come to my aid.
I've neglected my poetry for the last few months. Now I smell the breath of autumn and it is as crisp as a freshly-bitten apple.
I love autumn. It is the season most conducive to writing. I wonder why that is.
Looking at the other poetry books on the shelves at work, I have to quash my squiggles of envy. Why do I want a book so much? Not for the money. Oh, no. Ho-ho-ho-ho. Money? I think not. What then?
The reason is inarticulable (just like that word). But I must send my work out. I must. Papers, ink, come to my aid.
Sunday, September 21, 2003
First days back
I'm missing Spain already. Waah! I want cheap food, and cheap alcohol, and cheap food again, and warmer climes, and long drives up the coast looking at weird, burnt, hyper-terrestrial landscapes.
Yesterday, I went back to work. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I wore my new boots and they didn't even make my feet that much. Probably not a detail that you needed to know, but there you go.
This morning, I made Mark some French toast.
"I wonder if they have French toast in France?" Mark asked.
"Dunno. Guess we're going to have to go there to find out," I replied.
They were yummy, actually, even if I do say so myself, slathered as they were with faux maple syrup and topped with banana slices. I think Mark might be missing his tostados, which are bigger versions of Melba toast, that he had for breakfasts in Alicante, spread with apricot jam on top.
I love breakfasts.
My sister called me this morning. She sounded happy. I think it's because of this boy. She thinks he's The One (no, not Neo from the Matrix, you silly). She asked me again when I was going back.
I don't know when I'm ever going back.
I'm missing Spain already. Waah! I want cheap food, and cheap alcohol, and cheap food again, and warmer climes, and long drives up the coast looking at weird, burnt, hyper-terrestrial landscapes.
Yesterday, I went back to work. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I wore my new boots and they didn't even make my feet that much. Probably not a detail that you needed to know, but there you go.
This morning, I made Mark some French toast.
"I wonder if they have French toast in France?" Mark asked.
"Dunno. Guess we're going to have to go there to find out," I replied.
They were yummy, actually, even if I do say so myself, slathered as they were with faux maple syrup and topped with banana slices. I think Mark might be missing his tostados, which are bigger versions of Melba toast, that he had for breakfasts in Alicante, spread with apricot jam on top.
I love breakfasts.
My sister called me this morning. She sounded happy. I think it's because of this boy. She thinks he's The One (no, not Neo from the Matrix, you silly). She asked me again when I was going back.
I don't know when I'm ever going back.
Monday, September 15, 2003
¡Hola, amigos y amigas!
Hey, this keyboard I´m using is weird. But I kinda like it.
Typing in an internet cafe here in Alicante, but am actually staying in Torrevieja. It´s actually a bit of a nothing town (Torrevieja, that is, not Alicant, which is muy bien). The Lucan of Alicante, if you know what I mean, full of development high-rises and bland, salty spaces.
I like the rest of Spain so far, though. Went northwards, past Culleras, where Mark and I stayed overnight, and I got to try my first Spanish transactions. Interestingly, a double bed is not dobles cama, but cama de matrimonia; literally, the matrimonial bed. Hmm.
We drove over 800 km in our first three days. To Salou and back again. Quite wish that we didn´t tie ourselves down to an apartment, but should have just done a road-trip instead. Ah, well, we´ll know next time.
A good word to know is quisiera, which means I would like, and he/she would like. And everyone says hola, which is all you really need, I think (not quite, but close enough).
Food is cheap. It would be good to live here. So warm. Everything shuts down in the afternoon, just as I´ve heard it said. Good to know Spain meets and exceeds expectations.
Hey, this keyboard I´m using is weird. But I kinda like it.
Typing in an internet cafe here in Alicante, but am actually staying in Torrevieja. It´s actually a bit of a nothing town (Torrevieja, that is, not Alicant, which is muy bien). The Lucan of Alicante, if you know what I mean, full of development high-rises and bland, salty spaces.
I like the rest of Spain so far, though. Went northwards, past Culleras, where Mark and I stayed overnight, and I got to try my first Spanish transactions. Interestingly, a double bed is not dobles cama, but cama de matrimonia; literally, the matrimonial bed. Hmm.
We drove over 800 km in our first three days. To Salou and back again. Quite wish that we didn´t tie ourselves down to an apartment, but should have just done a road-trip instead. Ah, well, we´ll know next time.
A good word to know is quisiera, which means I would like, and he/she would like. And everyone says hola, which is all you really need, I think (not quite, but close enough).
Food is cheap. It would be good to live here. So warm. Everything shuts down in the afternoon, just as I´ve heard it said. Good to know Spain meets and exceeds expectations.
Friday, September 12, 2003
Sing it one more time
Still got packing to do. All the necessary detritus.
Ah, life!
I'm leavingWell, I do know. Back again on Saturday, folks and blokes. Not really sure about Internet doo-dahs while in Alicante, but I'll be keeping track of what I've been up to, don't you worry.
on a jetplane
don't know when I'll be back again...
Still got packing to do. All the necessary detritus.
Ah, life!
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
Tired
A co-worker, recently returned from her own one-year working holiday in Australia, said to me, "I like hearing your accent. It reminds me of my time there."
"Well, it's not really a strong Australian accent, though, is it? A bit muddied," I said.
"I still like it."
There you go. There's no accounting for it. I've had one lady on the phone also inform me how pleasant I sounded.
Must be something in the water here.
A co-worker, recently returned from her own one-year working holiday in Australia, said to me, "I like hearing your accent. It reminds me of my time there."
"Well, it's not really a strong Australian accent, though, is it? A bit muddied," I said.
"I still like it."
There you go. There's no accounting for it. I've had one lady on the phone also inform me how pleasant I sounded.
Must be something in the water here.
Monday, September 08, 2003
Sunday, September 07, 2003
Scrapes and abrasions
My mum sent me a text the other day. She'd been in a motorbike accident. Not serious, luckily. Just grazes on her elbows and knees, and a deep cut in her right palm.
I'm glad it was not worse. Though I'm annoyed she wasn't wearing gloves and other protective gear, I'm glad she was wearing a helmet.
My mum sent me a text the other day. She'd been in a motorbike accident. Not serious, luckily. Just grazes on her elbows and knees, and a deep cut in her right palm.
I'm glad it was not worse. Though I'm annoyed she wasn't wearing gloves and other protective gear, I'm glad she was wearing a helmet.
Thursday, September 04, 2003
Wine on my sleeve
There was a launch at the bookshop today, and I was a wine jockey for the evening. Quite interesting, I suppose.
The author was polite enough to come over and introduce himself, even excusing himself when he had to go away. He was also slightly nervous, judging from the clammy quality of his handshake.
Funny how nerves are quite catching, because I started to feel a bit shaky myself. But I got into the swing of things soon enough. Then I spilt some wine on my sleeve, and now I smell like an alky. Yuk.
There was a launch at the bookshop today, and I was a wine jockey for the evening. Quite interesting, I suppose.
The author was polite enough to come over and introduce himself, even excusing himself when he had to go away. He was also slightly nervous, judging from the clammy quality of his handshake.
Funny how nerves are quite catching, because I started to feel a bit shaky myself. But I got into the swing of things soon enough. Then I spilt some wine on my sleeve, and now I smell like an alky. Yuk.
Wednesday, September 03, 2003
Late and early
Earlier starts to the day this week, but tomorrow I can sleep in a little. Yay! Might do some op-shopping. Always fun.
Mark sent me this old article about Tim Tams. Sometimes I'm so suggestible. I could do with one now.
There's an Australia shop near where I work and I saw that they sold Twisties. I thought, Cool! Went back the following day with some money, and walked out in disgust when I saw they were priced at €3! Scandalous! That's about six Aussie dollars! This is just, you know, the normal-sized bag, not the bigger packets that you can get. So, goodbye Twisties! No way, José.
Earlier starts to the day this week, but tomorrow I can sleep in a little. Yay! Might do some op-shopping. Always fun.
Mark sent me this old article about Tim Tams. Sometimes I'm so suggestible. I could do with one now.
There's an Australia shop near where I work and I saw that they sold Twisties. I thought, Cool! Went back the following day with some money, and walked out in disgust when I saw they were priced at €3! Scandalous! That's about six Aussie dollars! This is just, you know, the normal-sized bag, not the bigger packets that you can get. So, goodbye Twisties! No way, José.
Monday, September 01, 2003
Sunday, August 31, 2003
A one-day weekend is not good
But you know what? I'll live.
Mark bought tickets for our flight to Alicante. That should be fun. It'll be getting into autumn there, so it won't be as hellishly hot as it has been reported.
I've bought a Spanish phrasebook, but I'm having little hits of anxiety. What if I am totally clueless?
But you know what? I'll live.
Mark bought tickets for our flight to Alicante. That should be fun. It'll be getting into autumn there, so it won't be as hellishly hot as it has been reported.
I've bought a Spanish phrasebook, but I'm having little hits of anxiety. What if I am totally clueless?
Wednesday, August 27, 2003
Tuesday, August 26, 2003
The things I do
I saw a movie: Buffalo Soldiers, quite good, in a noir-ish, cynical kinda way.
I'm reading a book: A Sweet Obscurity by Patrick Gale. 'Tis quite good, so far.
The weather's changing to an autumnal cool, daylight hours shrinking infinitesimally, the wind dancing on flesh raising little goosebumps.
But I'm looking forward to our upcoming week-long trip to Alicante. I think it will be fun.
I saw a movie: Buffalo Soldiers, quite good, in a noir-ish, cynical kinda way.
I'm reading a book: A Sweet Obscurity by Patrick Gale. 'Tis quite good, so far.
The weather's changing to an autumnal cool, daylight hours shrinking infinitesimally, the wind dancing on flesh raising little goosebumps.
But I'm looking forward to our upcoming week-long trip to Alicante. I think it will be fun.
Saturday, August 23, 2003
Just like a weekend, only crunchy
Hey, I get the next two days off! Yay!
I might do something wild and crazy. Like read a book. Or go see a movie (I particularly want to see Swimming Pool with Charlotte Rampling). Or op-shop!
Hmm, I think I'm going to like working at this bookshop. They seem more reasonable to me.
Hey, I get the next two days off! Yay!
I might do something wild and crazy. Like read a book. Or go see a movie (I particularly want to see Swimming Pool with Charlotte Rampling). Or op-shop!
Hmm, I think I'm going to like working at this bookshop. They seem more reasonable to me.
Thursday, August 21, 2003
Quickly now
Job's fine, but my hands hurt. Is that bad? I do this scanning and it's a big hurty object I carry. Maybe I'm going to get arthritis. Woe!
I went to a concert last night at The Point. I probably would have enjoyed it more had it been my sort of music. I hadn't even heard of Manu Chao prior to getting tickets to this event. I had heard of the Asian Dub Foundation though.
Me tired now. Must eat muesli and sleep.
Job's fine, but my hands hurt. Is that bad? I do this scanning and it's a big hurty object I carry. Maybe I'm going to get arthritis. Woe!
I went to a concert last night at The Point. I probably would have enjoyed it more had it been my sort of music. I hadn't even heard of Manu Chao prior to getting tickets to this event. I had heard of the Asian Dub Foundation though.
Me tired now. Must eat muesli and sleep.
Monday, August 18, 2003
Saturday, August 16, 2003
Irishisms, Part... ummm... II? III?
Fillum: a movie, a film. No idea why there is an extra syllable, but there you go. Charming, innit?
Okay, my mind's a sieve. That's all I can remember for now. Never claimed to be a lexicographer or some such other clever-clogsy type person, have I?
Such a gorgeous summer Ireland's been having. It is just right, especially for showing off some of my summer tops. Yo-ho!
Went for a McFeed this morning and was not impressed by my stuffed-up order of pancakes. The first time, there was no butter or syrup (don't mind about the butter so much, though). Waited five minutes. Went up to the counter—still no syrup. 'It's got to be fetched from upstairs,' the teenaged boy shrugged apologetically at me. Sat down, got back up, taking my cold pancakes and said to him that I'll just got a fresh one when the syrup turns up.
Sat down again, ate a couple of bitefuls of Mark's snausage-and-egg-mcmuffs, disconsolate at my ruined breakfast. Got back up, waited some more. By that time, another customer was waiting for their pancake, too. The manager, after running around like a headless chook, asked what I was waiting for. 'My pancakes,' I bit out. 'I've been waiting ten minutes for my pancakes,' the guy behind me peeped.
My second batch was doled out to me, fresh from the microwave. I could feel from touching the base of the styrofoam packaging that this was not a hot pancake meal. I bitched at Mark, who took pity on me, went up to the counter and got me a tepid one.
At least I had syrup.
That'll teach me.
Fillum: a movie, a film. No idea why there is an extra syllable, but there you go. Charming, innit?
Okay, my mind's a sieve. That's all I can remember for now. Never claimed to be a lexicographer or some such other clever-clogsy type person, have I?
Such a gorgeous summer Ireland's been having. It is just right, especially for showing off some of my summer tops. Yo-ho!
Went for a McFeed this morning and was not impressed by my stuffed-up order of pancakes. The first time, there was no butter or syrup (don't mind about the butter so much, though). Waited five minutes. Went up to the counter—still no syrup. 'It's got to be fetched from upstairs,' the teenaged boy shrugged apologetically at me. Sat down, got back up, taking my cold pancakes and said to him that I'll just got a fresh one when the syrup turns up.
Sat down again, ate a couple of bitefuls of Mark's snausage-and-egg-mcmuffs, disconsolate at my ruined breakfast. Got back up, waited some more. By that time, another customer was waiting for their pancake, too. The manager, after running around like a headless chook, asked what I was waiting for. 'My pancakes,' I bit out. 'I've been waiting ten minutes for my pancakes,' the guy behind me peeped.
My second batch was doled out to me, fresh from the microwave. I could feel from touching the base of the styrofoam packaging that this was not a hot pancake meal. I bitched at Mark, who took pity on me, went up to the counter and got me a tepid one.
At least I had syrup.
That'll teach me.
Friday, August 15, 2003
Bodies at rest
I'm not doing anything too strenuous before I start work on Monday.
Just finished reading Man and Boy by somebody Parsons. It's all right, but you know, I wish I can make myself skip from reading the blurbs, because a book can hardly keep pace with the hype, sometimes.
I wonder how I'll cope being back in a full-time capacity, after this one-month holiday?
I'm not doing anything too strenuous before I start work on Monday.
Just finished reading Man and Boy by somebody Parsons. It's all right, but you know, I wish I can make myself skip from reading the blurbs, because a book can hardly keep pace with the hype, sometimes.
I wonder how I'll cope being back in a full-time capacity, after this one-month holiday?
Thursday, August 14, 2003
Sedate
On the way home, I watched a dozen ducks sunning themselves on low-tide rocks in the river, every single one facing upstream. Some heads were tucked under a wing, others were grooming, still others were asleep on their feet.
It was very soporofic to watch them, as the water wound past, and the sun heating down overhead. I almost felt guilty for my sleepy thought: 'I wonder what wild river duck tastes like?'
By the way, I got the job. My second bookshop in Ireland! I'll get through all of them yet!
On the way home, I watched a dozen ducks sunning themselves on low-tide rocks in the river, every single one facing upstream. Some heads were tucked under a wing, others were grooming, still others were asleep on their feet.
It was very soporofic to watch them, as the water wound past, and the sun heating down overhead. I almost felt guilty for my sleepy thought: 'I wonder what wild river duck tastes like?'
By the way, I got the job. My second bookshop in Ireland! I'll get through all of them yet!
I'm in
I received a copy of Anon recently, and I'm in it! Yay! It's a beautiful little book, too.
I'm so proud.
I received a copy of Anon recently, and I'm in it! Yay! It's a beautiful little book, too.
I'm so proud.
Making a list
I've been so good, I think. Doing things to keep me busy during this jobsearch. Some are even jobsearch-related!
I don't want to be a journalist. I just want to be an editor. Is that so hard for peeps to understand?
My spore-scars are fading daily. I'll be left with nothing but weals where the annoying fungus has marked its path on me.
Hurray!
I've been so good, I think. Doing things to keep me busy during this jobsearch. Some are even jobsearch-related!
I don't want to be a journalist. I just want to be an editor. Is that so hard for peeps to understand?
My spore-scars are fading daily. I'll be left with nothing but weals where the annoying fungus has marked its path on me.
Hurray!
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
An interview
Tomowwow, tomowwow, I love ya, tomowwow!
I'm plumping for a part-time job, but you know, I feel a bit weird not working. Seems unfair to me. They're only offering full-time work at the moment.
Ah, well. What can you do? Mark's suggesting I negotiate, but I'm not that kinda girl.
I need girl-power.
Tomowwow, tomowwow, I love ya, tomowwow!
I'm plumping for a part-time job, but you know, I feel a bit weird not working. Seems unfair to me. They're only offering full-time work at the moment.
Ah, well. What can you do? Mark's suggesting I negotiate, but I'm not that kinda girl.
I need girl-power.
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
What the heck am I doing?
I'm in denial. I've got this directory, full of contacts in the magazine publishing industry, and I'm afraid to use it.
I guess I'm scared about leaving my ass to hang out in the wind. Yeah, that's it.
My theory is, if I go for a job that doesn't matter so much, that it won't hurt if I don't get. You think? Maybe?
I'm such a wimp.
I'm in denial. I've got this directory, full of contacts in the magazine publishing industry, and I'm afraid to use it.
I guess I'm scared about leaving my ass to hang out in the wind. Yeah, that's it.
My theory is, if I go for a job that doesn't matter so much, that it won't hurt if I don't get. You think? Maybe?
I'm such a wimp.
Monday, August 11, 2003
Sunday, August 10, 2003
Here Comes the Hot Tepper
My interview by Interrobang?!’s Dave Tepper
[Ooh, these are all well thought-out questions, Dave.]
Fantastic! Here we go.
1. Most Americans don't even know what Canberra is, much less how to pronounce it. (My readers, of course, are much smarter than that!) Tell us Yanks three things about Australia we really ought to know.
That was my first day in Aberdeen, Scotland. I was to live there for six months, the longest stretch of time I would be away from Australia. I wanted to set down my thoughts, so that I could share my experience with family and friends back home. I also knew I needed to be occupied during that time, because I was only on a visitor’s visa to the UK, and was not allowed to work. That was some major suck.
3. "Neither a debtor nor a lender be." Here at Interrobang?!, though, death is not an option: would you rather be a debtor or a lender, and why?
I don’t like being in debt, so I’d rather be a lender. But I’m a poor lender, too! I would hound my little brother and sister when they’d borrow a dollar, nagging them, asking, ‘Can you pay it today? I’ll start charging interest soon, you know.’ I was, like, eight. Mind you, I’ve got a fairly hefty HECS (Higher Education Contribution Scheme) debt. [This is a debt accrued by students who can’t pay up-front fees on university courses, discharged by paying extra tax once the ex-student starts earning enough money]. Ahem.
4. What will your life be like ten years from now?
God! Who knows? This is a toughie. Okay…
I’d like to have my first and second book of poetry published by then. I’d want to have seen more of Europe and the US… Definitely want to go hang out in Canada. So, ten years from now, I’ll be more worldly-wise, I think. I’ll have cats. I’ll have a room for my books. That’s all I can see. So if I have those things that must mean I’ll be mostly happy.
5. Who was your first love, and whatever happened to him or her?
First love. Hmm. That would have to be Aaron. I actually wrote to him early this year, as I was terribly curious about that very same question. In summary, this was the answer.
He was in a motor vehicle accident. He required reconstructive surgery. He got better. He started managing bands and doing karaoke gigs. And he’s got a young son now, who seems to be the most important person in his life.
Whew! [Thanks, Dave!]
Okay, dudes and dudettes, here are the rules:
My interview by Interrobang?!’s Dave Tepper
[Ooh, these are all well thought-out questions, Dave.]
Fantastic! Here we go.
1. Most Americans don't even know what Canberra is, much less how to pronounce it. (My readers, of course, are much smarter than that!) Tell us Yanks three things about Australia we really ought to know.
- Australia has a really embarrassing Prime Minister at the moment. The most embarrassing thing John Howard has done, to my mind, was when he sucked-up to your President in the most obsequious, brown-nosing manner possible. Like, get a room, guys!
- Having moved around a bit (from Manila to Hobart, Melbourne, Aberdeen and now Dublin), I can say that the best thing about Australia is that it gets a lot of things right, but it’s still a long way off from places like Amsterdam or Hong Kong, both cities that I love for their energy, atmosphere and culture.
- Kangaroos don’t hop down the main street of most capital cities.
That was my first day in Aberdeen, Scotland. I was to live there for six months, the longest stretch of time I would be away from Australia. I wanted to set down my thoughts, so that I could share my experience with family and friends back home. I also knew I needed to be occupied during that time, because I was only on a visitor’s visa to the UK, and was not allowed to work. That was some major suck.
3. "Neither a debtor nor a lender be." Here at Interrobang?!, though, death is not an option: would you rather be a debtor or a lender, and why?
I don’t like being in debt, so I’d rather be a lender. But I’m a poor lender, too! I would hound my little brother and sister when they’d borrow a dollar, nagging them, asking, ‘Can you pay it today? I’ll start charging interest soon, you know.’ I was, like, eight. Mind you, I’ve got a fairly hefty HECS (Higher Education Contribution Scheme) debt. [This is a debt accrued by students who can’t pay up-front fees on university courses, discharged by paying extra tax once the ex-student starts earning enough money]. Ahem.
4. What will your life be like ten years from now?
God! Who knows? This is a toughie. Okay…
I’d like to have my first and second book of poetry published by then. I’d want to have seen more of Europe and the US… Definitely want to go hang out in Canada. So, ten years from now, I’ll be more worldly-wise, I think. I’ll have cats. I’ll have a room for my books. That’s all I can see. So if I have those things that must mean I’ll be mostly happy.
5. Who was your first love, and whatever happened to him or her?
First love. Hmm. That would have to be Aaron. I actually wrote to him early this year, as I was terribly curious about that very same question. In summary, this was the answer.
He was in a motor vehicle accident. He required reconstructive surgery. He got better. He started managing bands and doing karaoke gigs. And he’s got a young son now, who seems to be the most important person in his life.
Whew! [Thanks, Dave!]
Okay, dudes and dudettes, here are the rules:
• If you want to participate, leave a comment saying "interview me." I will respond by asking you five questions.Now, who’s up next?
• You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions.
• You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
• When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
Saturday, August 09, 2003
Q&A
I've just put my name down for an interview. It's a meme going around that's caught my fancy.
I'm all a-tingle. I wonder what my questions will be. I'm tempted to say 'please be gentle', but that might come out all wimpy. Hmm. What about 'bring it to the par-tay'?
Too mid-90s, methinks.
I've just put my name down for an interview. It's a meme going around that's caught my fancy.
I'm all a-tingle. I wonder what my questions will be. I'm tempted to say 'please be gentle', but that might come out all wimpy. Hmm. What about 'bring it to the par-tay'?
Too mid-90s, methinks.
Carry-on hand luggage
Did you know that, since it is both expensive and rare in Ireland, I brought back not one, but two kilos of Milo in my backpack?
Yep. I'm nothing but a donkey for drinking chocolate. Can you blame me? Didn't think so. Absolutely dirt-cheap in Manila. And how can one possibly live without it?
Did you know that, since it is both expensive and rare in Ireland, I brought back not one, but two kilos of Milo in my backpack?
Yep. I'm nothing but a donkey for drinking chocolate. Can you blame me? Didn't think so. Absolutely dirt-cheap in Manila. And how can one possibly live without it?
Friday, August 08, 2003
Belly
Ever since that French bint from Pulp Fiction lisped out that she thought pot bellies were sexy, I think a lot of girls/women (me! me!) have struggled with this concept.
"But! We're meant to be thin! Pot bellies are not shown on magazines in a glamourous light! How is a pot belly sexy?"
So it is when I get a little belly. I feel ambiguous towards it. I poke it, see if it shifts, melts, vanishes, jiggles like jelly concentrate.
I think I can see the woman's point. But you know, I'm still not sure.
Ever since that French bint from Pulp Fiction lisped out that she thought pot bellies were sexy, I think a lot of girls/women (me! me!) have struggled with this concept.
"But! We're meant to be thin! Pot bellies are not shown on magazines in a glamourous light! How is a pot belly sexy?"
So it is when I get a little belly. I feel ambiguous towards it. I poke it, see if it shifts, melts, vanishes, jiggles like jelly concentrate.
I think I can see the woman's point. But you know, I'm still not sure.
Thursday, August 07, 2003
Ringus wormius
Those insect-bites I mentioned in my previous post? They've mutated.
Dudes, I've got ringworm.
Oh yeah, it doesn't get any better than this.
Those insect-bites I mentioned in my previous post? They've mutated.
Dudes, I've got ringworm.
Oh yeah, it doesn't get any better than this.
Wednesday, August 06, 2003
Jobbie
Status: slack. The last two days I've slept, read and et, and not exactly in that order, either. Hmm, reminds me of when I was on the dole after doing Honours. So, still no job, yet.
My insect bites have turned into red-edged sores. Mark's bought me calamine lotion, but sometimes the urge to scratch is almost too much to bear.
Status: slack. The last two days I've slept, read and et, and not exactly in that order, either. Hmm, reminds me of when I was on the dole after doing Honours. So, still no job, yet.
My insect bites have turned into red-edged sores. Mark's bought me calamine lotion, but sometimes the urge to scratch is almost too much to bear.
Sunday, August 03, 2003
What I Did in My Summer Vacation: Notable Highlights
1. Was in a jeepney accident.
2. Had gastro.
Yep, Ivy did throwy-up. Not nice. That'll teach me to
Lots of water. Lots of wind (no, I'm not still talking about my gastro experience). One papaya tree was nearly lost. It was very loud. I spent most of the time playing with a kitten called Zebra.
4. Was caught in the middle of a coup attempt/military mutiny.
Well, that last is not strictly true. But I was most anxious, because I thought I wouldn't be able to come home to Mark. Still, one good thing did come from it: I could get more Philippine pesos to the Euro. Yes, I'm a political animal at heart. Thrilling.
1. Was in a jeepney accident.
[If you go here, you can find out what a jeepney looks like. Essentially, a jeep is a people-carrier, like a bus, except people are more squashed in than oily anchovies, and the jeeps try to outdo each other in the garishness and look-at-me stakes.]Any other place in the world, and it would've been clear that the other driver was at fault. My poor mum banged her head. The funny thing was, not more than thirty minutes earlier, I had been speculating with Ma how an accident would be pretty awful in one of those. Bizarre.
2. Had gastro.
Yep, Ivy did throwy-up. Not nice. That'll teach me to
• lick my fingers after trying on shoes without washing my hands3. Was in a typhoon.
• eat halo-halo
• undergo extreme body-temperature changes in the space of seconds [i.e. one minute outdoors in 35degC heat, then swanning around in cool, air-conditioned comfort the next]
• not be acclimatised to the country's food/weather/culture.
Lots of water. Lots of wind (no, I'm not still talking about my gastro experience). One papaya tree was nearly lost. It was very loud. I spent most of the time playing with a kitten called Zebra.
4. Was caught in the middle of a coup attempt/military mutiny.
Well, that last is not strictly true. But I was most anxious, because I thought I wouldn't be able to come home to Mark. Still, one good thing did come from it: I could get more Philippine pesos to the Euro. Yes, I'm a political animal at heart. Thrilling.
Googling myself
Help me. I can't stop.
Well, that's not exactly true. It's been about three weeks between the last time I googled myself and the previous time.
Interesting, innit, what the 'net has to say about you?
But the thing is, if I don't google moi, how would I know about this review?
Kahloo-kahlay!
Help me. I can't stop.
Well, that's not exactly true. It's been about three weeks between the last time I googled myself and the previous time.
Interesting, innit, what the 'net has to say about you?
But the thing is, if I don't google moi, how would I know about this review?
Kahloo-kahlay!
Friday, August 01, 2003
I will survive
And so I'm back, from outer space. I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face.
Well, not exactly outer space, but almost 24-hours of travelling time is enough to give one an out-of-body experience.
And I'm all loved-up (from Mark) and fashioned up from shopping! Yay! I love it when clothes fit.
On the taxi-ride home, I noticed that, hey, Dublin was actually having nice weather. Pity, I was a bit out of it with lag to take advantage. I was updating the driver on what I've been up to, and as he dropped me off, he wished me good luck on my job-hunting. Maybe taxi-drivers should charge more for their sideline as impromptu therapists or something.
It was good to show Mark all that I'd bought. He didn't do too badly out of it, either. We've been so thrifty (oh, alright, downright Scrooge-like) for so long, it was hard for me to just buy stuff for myself. Felt like I had to share some of the fun.
And it's been fun. Now, time to knuckle down, I think. Starting Monday. It's another long weekend holiday this Saturday. I like Ireland.
And so I'm back, from outer space. I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face.
Well, not exactly outer space, but almost 24-hours of travelling time is enough to give one an out-of-body experience.
And I'm all loved-up (from Mark) and fashioned up from shopping! Yay! I love it when clothes fit.
On the taxi-ride home, I noticed that, hey, Dublin was actually having nice weather. Pity, I was a bit out of it with lag to take advantage. I was updating the driver on what I've been up to, and as he dropped me off, he wished me good luck on my job-hunting. Maybe taxi-drivers should charge more for their sideline as impromptu therapists or something.
It was good to show Mark all that I'd bought. He didn't do too badly out of it, either. We've been so thrifty (oh, alright, downright Scrooge-like) for so long, it was hard for me to just buy stuff for myself. Felt like I had to share some of the fun.
And it's been fun. Now, time to knuckle down, I think. Starting Monday. It's another long weekend holiday this Saturday. I like Ireland.
Friday, July 25, 2003
Bad tum
I may have over-indulged. Eaten too much, too soon. Or something. The upshot? Tummy trouble.
I hate throwing up. Am I the only one? I have an exceptional aversion to this helpless, involuntary, totally bodily thing that one has no control over. That being said, I felt better once I did vom.
Speaking of girly, I also had a pedicure and manicure. I also nearly fainted because of previously-mentioned tummy upset, which the poor manicurist misinterpreted to mean that, as I had just mentioned to her that this was my first nail-grooming experience, I was a fragile flower unable to handle it.
The best times so far are sitting under Ma's mango tree, feeling the breeze cooling down the hot day, as we gossip and reminisce.
I may have over-indulged. Eaten too much, too soon. Or something. The upshot? Tummy trouble.
I hate throwing up. Am I the only one? I have an exceptional aversion to this helpless, involuntary, totally bodily thing that one has no control over. That being said, I felt better once I did vom.
Speaking of girly, I also had a pedicure and manicure. I also nearly fainted because of previously-mentioned tummy upset, which the poor manicurist misinterpreted to mean that, as I had just mentioned to her that this was my first nail-grooming experience, I was a fragile flower unable to handle it.
The best times so far are sitting under Ma's mango tree, feeling the breeze cooling down the hot day, as we gossip and reminisce.
Friday, July 18, 2003
Well
I'm here! And it's hotter than ever.
This time around, it seems more like a pilgrimage. My mother now has a house in Marikina, one of the places of my childhood, so I can go around and walk around the same rooms, walk the same path, things that are really not the same. Everything's shrunk down to a less scary size. Funny how age and travel does that.
It has also become more populous than in my memory of it. More houses, more life!
My mother's house has quite an Edenic garden. She grows mangoes (yum!), peanut plants, sweet potato, aratilis, coconuts, papaya, chilli, eggplant (aubergine to everyone else), and others I can't seem to remember now. I've been having such a great time, eating all the food I grew up with.
For lunch, I had barbecued fish with rice, pork with Chinese glass noodles and arroz caldo. Yah! And! A really super-duper mango, which I just slurped on down. Mmm. Heaven? Yes. My mum laughed to see me go back to the peelings to make sure I got every last morsel in my mouth.
At this rate, I'm going to get tubby.
So now I'm here to spend more of my hard-earned cash.
Ma and I are going to Zamboanga next week to visit her relatives for a few days. I'll be paying for the plane flight, which is a nice thing to be able to do for her (for us!). She wants to show my the family plot, on which she had spent a lot of time and effort, bringing all the bones and whatnot from various places into the one spot.
Should be an interesting time, anyway.
I'm here! And it's hotter than ever.
This time around, it seems more like a pilgrimage. My mother now has a house in Marikina, one of the places of my childhood, so I can go around and walk around the same rooms, walk the same path, things that are really not the same. Everything's shrunk down to a less scary size. Funny how age and travel does that.
It has also become more populous than in my memory of it. More houses, more life!
My mother's house has quite an Edenic garden. She grows mangoes (yum!), peanut plants, sweet potato, aratilis, coconuts, papaya, chilli, eggplant (aubergine to everyone else), and others I can't seem to remember now. I've been having such a great time, eating all the food I grew up with.
For lunch, I had barbecued fish with rice, pork with Chinese glass noodles and arroz caldo. Yah! And! A really super-duper mango, which I just slurped on down. Mmm. Heaven? Yes. My mum laughed to see me go back to the peelings to make sure I got every last morsel in my mouth.
At this rate, I'm going to get tubby.
So now I'm here to spend more of my hard-earned cash.
Ma and I are going to Zamboanga next week to visit her relatives for a few days. I'll be paying for the plane flight, which is a nice thing to be able to do for her (for us!). She wants to show my the family plot, on which she had spent a lot of time and effort, bringing all the bones and whatnot from various places into the one spot.
Should be an interesting time, anyway.
Tuesday, July 15, 2003
Girlism to Overtake Feminism
Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!
Would you mind if I just went totally girly here? I so hope the flight shows Legally Blonde 2.
Please don't throw tomatoes at me. I'm serious. I love the first one, and I sincerely pray the next one is just as good.
Hey, my needs are simple.
Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!
Would you mind if I just went totally girly here? I so hope the flight shows Legally Blonde 2.
Please don't throw tomatoes at me. I'm serious. I love the first one, and I sincerely pray the next one is just as good.
Hey, my needs are simple.
Doorstep goodbyes
I've just said my doorstep goodbyes to Mark. I'm a bit sad, but I guess also quite excited. A strange mixture. This time, going away is different, more for the purpose of a holiday, of imposing a delineation between one stage and another. Between the end of one job, and the start of something hopefully better.
I hope everything goes okay.
I've just said my doorstep goodbyes to Mark. I'm a bit sad, but I guess also quite excited. A strange mixture. This time, going away is different, more for the purpose of a holiday, of imposing a delineation between one stage and another. Between the end of one job, and the start of something hopefully better.
I hope everything goes okay.
Sunday, July 13, 2003
Conclusions and Introductions
No more bookshop for me.
I met one of the new members of staff yesterday. She seemed nice and I wished her luck, in that banal, well-meaning way we all do. I was given my presents and a group of us toodled down to a bar for a drink. Was it just me, or was it mostly punctuated with uncomfortable silences, punctured only when one of us poked fun at our old managers?
So now begins the serious business of travel. I had an attack of nerves yesterday afternoon, just thinking about what I have to remember to do. But then it just faded away like a silly dream. It'll all work itself out.
The reason I'm willing to do this trip alone is because I'm familiar with all the airports I'll be passing through. Dublin Airport, Heathrow, Hong Kong, then Manila. Know them all. As long as there are decent in-flight movies, I'll be a happy lassie.
Oh! Do you think they'll be showing The Hulk during the flight? That'd be so cool!
No more bookshop for me.
I met one of the new members of staff yesterday. She seemed nice and I wished her luck, in that banal, well-meaning way we all do. I was given my presents and a group of us toodled down to a bar for a drink. Was it just me, or was it mostly punctuated with uncomfortable silences, punctured only when one of us poked fun at our old managers?
So now begins the serious business of travel. I had an attack of nerves yesterday afternoon, just thinking about what I have to remember to do. But then it just faded away like a silly dream. It'll all work itself out.
The reason I'm willing to do this trip alone is because I'm familiar with all the airports I'll be passing through. Dublin Airport, Heathrow, Hong Kong, then Manila. Know them all. As long as there are decent in-flight movies, I'll be a happy lassie.
Oh! Do you think they'll be showing The Hulk during the flight? That'd be so cool!
Friday, July 11, 2003
Interview interlude
I'm looking for work at the mo. Today, I send off my curriculum vitae to any number of (dis)interested parties, and see who might bite the little bait.
Yesterday, I went to an interview. It was more like a chat, which is really the best way to go about it, I think.
I'm not sure I want to work in a bookshop anymore, though. So, I'll probably accept the job, if it was offered, but I'd be plumping for a position in publishing.
*sigh* Getting to where you want to be is one tough cookie.
I'm looking for work at the mo. Today, I send off my curriculum vitae to any number of (dis)interested parties, and see who might bite the little bait.
Yesterday, I went to an interview. It was more like a chat, which is really the best way to go about it, I think.
I'm not sure I want to work in a bookshop anymore, though. So, I'll probably accept the job, if it was offered, but I'd be plumping for a position in publishing.
*sigh* Getting to where you want to be is one tough cookie.
A first
I've not travelled internationally by myself before.
I guess leapfrogging State by State in Australia is good practice for that, though, with the distance quite equivalent to crossing several countries, especially compared to here in Europe.
Maybe this is the start of a groovy jetsetting lifestyle.
Or maybe not.
I've not travelled internationally by myself before.
I guess leapfrogging State by State in Australia is good practice for that, though, with the distance quite equivalent to crossing several countries, especially compared to here in Europe.
Maybe this is the start of a groovy jetsetting lifestyle.
Or maybe not.
Wednesday, July 09, 2003
Quiet, you
Man, I hate phones, and I hate dealing with strange people.
I wonder if anybody else shares the same phobia I do. I could never do a call-centre job. Weird people ringing me up. Me ringing up weird people. Too much!
That's why I got Mark to arrange all my bookings. Ah, bless... But today, I had to deal with a stranger. I had to ask questions. And sort things out. And organise. And all that.
It was easier than I thought it would be. I guess sometimes my mind makes oak trees out of acorns.
Speaking of weirdness, Mark just emailed me this weird article. You got it here first, folks! (Well, okay, secondhand. Maybe third-hand. Fourth-generation at the most.)
Man, I hate phones, and I hate dealing with strange people.
I wonder if anybody else shares the same phobia I do. I could never do a call-centre job. Weird people ringing me up. Me ringing up weird people. Too much!
That's why I got Mark to arrange all my bookings. Ah, bless... But today, I had to deal with a stranger. I had to ask questions. And sort things out. And organise. And all that.
It was easier than I thought it would be. I guess sometimes my mind makes oak trees out of acorns.
Speaking of weirdness, Mark just emailed me this weird article. You got it here first, folks! (Well, okay, secondhand. Maybe third-hand. Fourth-generation at the most.)
Sunday, July 06, 2003
You say doona, I say duvet
Call me Australian, but I don't think I'll ever shake this particular quirk and start calling doonas duvets.
Where the heck did the word doona come from, anyway? Sounds like an Aboriginal word. After some vigourous (hmm, did I spell that word right?) search-engine worrying, I came up with this:
So today, we're going to buy one. Huzzah!
My life is full of incredible minutae.
Call me Australian, but I don't think I'll ever shake this particular quirk and start calling doonas duvets.
Where the heck did the word doona come from, anyway? Sounds like an Aboriginal word. After some vigourous (hmm, did I spell that word right?) search-engine worrying, I came up with this:
New Shorter Oxford English DictionarySo, what has brought this on? Mark and I are currently wrestling over the important dilemma of a couple sharing a single-sized doona. Problem is, one of us ends up getting cold feet over it.
DOONA: (capitalised) noun, Australian. Also d-. Late 20th century [Perhaps from Swedish language ‘dun’ down.] (Proprietary name for) a quilted eiderdown [a quilt filled with the soft feathers from the breast of the eider (large northern sea duck) with which it lines its nest] or duvet [a thick soft quilt].
Macquarie Dictionary – Australia’s National Dictionary
DOONA (not capitalised) noun Australian; continental quilt [trademark]
Australian-American Dictionary
DOONA (not capitalised) noun: = comforter in US: Quilted eiderdown with a down or synthetic filling. ‘Doona’ is a Trade name, ‘Doona’ is apparently used in Australia only, and is unknown in New Zealand and Britain, let alone the US.
—[from this source]
So today, we're going to buy one. Huzzah!
My life is full of incredible minutae.
Friday, July 04, 2003
Goody
Another day off today. Wandering around a tiny part of Dublin, sorting out how to pay Cathay Pacific, a lot of finagling with a friend's credit card (because I don't own one), and so on.
I am eating apricot jam on toast for lunch. Plus, I have two videos (The Apartment with Jack Lemmon, and American Werewolf in London) and numerous books waiting upstairs. Cruisy days are cool.
Another day off today. Wandering around a tiny part of Dublin, sorting out how to pay Cathay Pacific, a lot of finagling with a friend's credit card (because I don't own one), and so on.
I am eating apricot jam on toast for lunch. Plus, I have two videos (The Apartment with Jack Lemmon, and American Werewolf in London) and numerous books waiting upstairs. Cruisy days are cool.
Tuesday, July 01, 2003
Leaving on a jet-plane
My job at the bookshop is finishing up soon, then I'll be off to Manila to see my mum. I must admit I'm looking forward to that, but this is tempered with the reality that I'll have to look for a new job when I get back.
Still, if I can find a job within three days of being in a new country, then I'm optimistic.
Yay!
My job at the bookshop is finishing up soon, then I'll be off to Manila to see my mum. I must admit I'm looking forward to that, but this is tempered with the reality that I'll have to look for a new job when I get back.
Still, if I can find a job within three days of being in a new country, then I'm optimistic.
Yay!
Monday, June 30, 2003
Flatmate
Okay, maybe new flatmate is not so weird. But I do get quite defensive about unknown quantities. So.
This dude smokes. Not in the house, though, as that is strictly not allowed, but he brings his smoke in on his clothes, and I quite dislike that.
Hmm, maybe I'm just looking for things to be nutty about.
Not much happening at work. Am likely to go to Manila quite soon, though, which'll be nice, as I haven't seen my mum for almost a year now.
There's a sky-full of rain today. In the mornings, the snails crest the tops of the lawn around here, calm and slow, and crunchy underfoot for the unwary.
I get a bit icky about snails. Let's not go there.
Okay, maybe new flatmate is not so weird. But I do get quite defensive about unknown quantities. So.
This dude smokes. Not in the house, though, as that is strictly not allowed, but he brings his smoke in on his clothes, and I quite dislike that.
Hmm, maybe I'm just looking for things to be nutty about.
Not much happening at work. Am likely to go to Manila quite soon, though, which'll be nice, as I haven't seen my mum for almost a year now.
There's a sky-full of rain today. In the mornings, the snails crest the tops of the lawn around here, calm and slow, and crunchy underfoot for the unwary.
I get a bit icky about snails. Let's not go there.
Thursday, June 26, 2003
Coriander
Don't you just love the smell of coriander? I bought a bunch for tonight's sushi-making session. Yum.
More Irishishms: 'work away'. It means 'go ahead', as in 'go ahead with what you're doing, don't mind me'.
There's also 'fair play to you', equivalent to a British 'well done', or the Australianism 'good on ya'.
Don't you just love the smell of coriander? I bought a bunch for tonight's sushi-making session. Yum.
More Irishishms: 'work away'. It means 'go ahead', as in 'go ahead with what you're doing, don't mind me'.
There's also 'fair play to you', equivalent to a British 'well done', or the Australianism 'good on ya'.
Monday, June 23, 2003
A sick-day
Don't fret. I'm not. Sick, that is. Maybe of work, but not physically ill.
I like just pottering around. It's a different quality to when I had nothing to do in Aberdeen, though. Maybe because it is am aimlessness intended to relax you and take your mind off things, rather than a pointless filling-in of time by wandering in and out of shops, looking for something meaningful to happen.
Or maybe not. What do I know, really?
I'm planning on going to the Philippines to see my mum soon. That'll be good. I might finally be able to buy clothes that fit me. As I am going via Hong Kong, Mark is already putting in his gadgetry orders. He does love his toys.
And yep, I'll pack a medical face-mask.
A poetry mag has just returned my submission, but without the actual poems themselves. The editor kindly notes that I write "good things". I wonder what he means by that, exactly.
Don't fret. I'm not. Sick, that is. Maybe of work, but not physically ill.
I like just pottering around. It's a different quality to when I had nothing to do in Aberdeen, though. Maybe because it is am aimlessness intended to relax you and take your mind off things, rather than a pointless filling-in of time by wandering in and out of shops, looking for something meaningful to happen.
Or maybe not. What do I know, really?
I'm planning on going to the Philippines to see my mum soon. That'll be good. I might finally be able to buy clothes that fit me. As I am going via Hong Kong, Mark is already putting in his gadgetry orders. He does love his toys.
And yep, I'll pack a medical face-mask.
A poetry mag has just returned my submission, but without the actual poems themselves. The editor kindly notes that I write "good things". I wonder what he means by that, exactly.
Friday, June 20, 2003
Wednesday, June 18, 2003
Move
I am currently fortifying myself with a shot glass of Baileys before tackling the packing-up. Tomorrow, we move to Milltown.
It's not been that long ago that I packed up a shop full of books. Now I get to do that all over again. On a smaller scale, though. Still, I seem to have acquired a substantial number of books.
*sigh*
I am currently fortifying myself with a shot glass of Baileys before tackling the packing-up. Tomorrow, we move to Milltown.
It's not been that long ago that I packed up a shop full of books. Now I get to do that all over again. On a smaller scale, though. Still, I seem to have acquired a substantial number of books.
*sigh*
Monday, June 16, 2003
Poeted
The most enjoyable part of the Gala Event last night was Wendy Cope's love poem, with an unromantic element that ended up making the piece quite amusing. Pity she wasn't there to read it herself. But at least I got to see Julian Barnes, Sophie Hannah and Brendan Kennelly.
Spent most of the time looking at the writers on stage thinking, I could do that. I want to do that. I want to be up there. Alas, not yet, but someday.
David Foster was not all that. Maybe his novels are cool, but he himself could do with some work on his delivery. He sure made an impact on the Irish audience, though.
Maybe I'm too critical because of my acting background. I know that when you're on-stage you certainly have to earn it, audience-wise. Quite a few upped and left, because he was too soft-spoken, couldn't hear him over the noise of the fan. You strained to hear. But you got to admire the ballsiness of one who can recite the first chapter of their book (about twenty minutes' worth) with nary a prop but one's bottle of water to refresh the occasionally parched throat. Props to you, Mr Foster.
Another poet I liked was Liz McSkeane. She was a nervy one, like a balled-up skein of stretched cat-gut, ready to unravel. Her lines were clean and bare. I like that.
My one complaint is the trend to rhyme. Why is that? Please stop. Don't rhyme so much, people. Use it judiciously. As Mark observed, the audience will end up just waiting for the last words, and miss the ones in-between.
Rhyme-shmyme.
The most enjoyable part of the Gala Event last night was Wendy Cope's love poem, with an unromantic element that ended up making the piece quite amusing. Pity she wasn't there to read it herself. But at least I got to see Julian Barnes, Sophie Hannah and Brendan Kennelly.
Spent most of the time looking at the writers on stage thinking, I could do that. I want to do that. I want to be up there. Alas, not yet, but someday.
David Foster was not all that. Maybe his novels are cool, but he himself could do with some work on his delivery. He sure made an impact on the Irish audience, though.
Maybe I'm too critical because of my acting background. I know that when you're on-stage you certainly have to earn it, audience-wise. Quite a few upped and left, because he was too soft-spoken, couldn't hear him over the noise of the fan. You strained to hear. But you got to admire the ballsiness of one who can recite the first chapter of their book (about twenty minutes' worth) with nary a prop but one's bottle of water to refresh the occasionally parched throat. Props to you, Mr Foster.
Another poet I liked was Liz McSkeane. She was a nervy one, like a balled-up skein of stretched cat-gut, ready to unravel. Her lines were clean and bare. I like that.
My one complaint is the trend to rhyme. Why is that? Please stop. Don't rhyme so much, people. Use it judiciously. As Mark observed, the audience will end up just waiting for the last words, and miss the ones in-between.
Rhyme-shmyme.
Saturday, June 14, 2003
Morning
Also, Mark and I are leaving Lucan, and moving to Milltown. How pleasantly sylvan and rural, think you not?
So now it'll be a 20-minute bus ride, instead of an hour. Hmm. "I measure out my life in petrol fumes."
I went and saw a Poetry Slam last night. I'd expected something better, actually, but still, it was amusing. The featured poet, however, was incredible.
Lemn Sissay was so energetic. Even his soundcheck wasn't just a soundcheck. He has caused me to re-think the ways in which I perform my work. I'm sure this influence will start leaking into how I do this from now on. "It won't happen overnight..." Again, I say, Incredible!
Also, Mark and I are leaving Lucan, and moving to Milltown. How pleasantly sylvan and rural, think you not?
So now it'll be a 20-minute bus ride, instead of an hour. Hmm. "I measure out my life in petrol fumes."
I went and saw a Poetry Slam last night. I'd expected something better, actually, but still, it was amusing. The featured poet, however, was incredible.
Lemn Sissay was so energetic. Even his soundcheck wasn't just a soundcheck. He has caused me to re-think the ways in which I perform my work. I'm sure this influence will start leaking into how I do this from now on. "It won't happen overnight..." Again, I say, Incredible!
Friday, June 13, 2003
Again!
Yay! A poem is to be published in Ireland, in The Stinging Fly sometime this year. And I get paid!
Whee!
Yay! A poem is to be published in Ireland, in The Stinging Fly sometime this year. And I get paid!
Whee!
Thursday, June 12, 2003
No poetry headache
Have just been from a session of the Dublin Writers Festival. It was a freebie, which is very cool for someone like me, on a budget, but still wanting a taste of literature.
I guess my favourite of the day has got to be Knut Odegard. If anybody who reads this has any sway whatsoever with regards to getting writers on a festival program, I strongly urge you to invite this extremely charming gentleman. He has a sweet air about him, much like one's stereotyped image of an absent-minded professor, but his presence on stage, in front of an audience, is both solid and slightly mesmeric.
One of his best works that he read today was set in Macedonia, about war's effect on one deaf farmer, Boris. It is at times whimsical, wry, and detailed with the touches that bring the scene to life. Most of all, it was affecting. It is not very often that I sit listening to a poem, my eyes almost over-spilling with tears.
The first poem he read, about oxen, was also read very well. Such a deep, sonorous voice, almost incantatory, heavy with the hoof-beats of those animals.
I heard five poets in all. I think it ran a bit (or a lot) overtime. Poetry events never run on schedule (apart from the ones I organise, of course!). I have one (paid-for) session on Friday, a Poetry Slam event, which should be a treat.
Have just been from a session of the Dublin Writers Festival. It was a freebie, which is very cool for someone like me, on a budget, but still wanting a taste of literature.
I guess my favourite of the day has got to be Knut Odegard. If anybody who reads this has any sway whatsoever with regards to getting writers on a festival program, I strongly urge you to invite this extremely charming gentleman. He has a sweet air about him, much like one's stereotyped image of an absent-minded professor, but his presence on stage, in front of an audience, is both solid and slightly mesmeric.
One of his best works that he read today was set in Macedonia, about war's effect on one deaf farmer, Boris. It is at times whimsical, wry, and detailed with the touches that bring the scene to life. Most of all, it was affecting. It is not very often that I sit listening to a poem, my eyes almost over-spilling with tears.
The first poem he read, about oxen, was also read very well. Such a deep, sonorous voice, almost incantatory, heavy with the hoof-beats of those animals.
I heard five poets in all. I think it ran a bit (or a lot) overtime. Poetry events never run on schedule (apart from the ones I organise, of course!). I have one (paid-for) session on Friday, a Poetry Slam event, which should be a treat.
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
Tuesday, June 10, 2003
Blecchh!
It seems like only yesterday when I was complaining about being sick. Well, here I am again, sick with some sort of summer flu.
I haven't written in so long, I know. Partly because the landlady's moved back into the house and I feel a bit odd working in her office while she's at home. And the other reason is because my thoughts haven't really organised themselves sufficiently into blog-entries.
A weird thing about the landlady that Mark finds unsettling. According to him, she seems to be finding reasons to appear inappropriately dressed, i.e. walking around the house in a t-shirt (I think in just a t-shirt) and acting surprised when she happens upon him, say, in the living-room (when the TV is blaring on), or the office (when you can hear Mark typing away in the next room). Is that creepy or what? Needless to say, we're househunting in earnest at the moment.
Oh, my tooth is now A-OK. So here's my big grin for ya. *GRIN*
I've got tomorrow and the next day off, so I might be able to shake off this darn flu. The Dublin Writers Festival starts on Thursday and I'll be able to get in a bit of culture. Yay! I've already bought my tickets for the Poetry Slam on Friday night.
Rain is funny here. It rains in bursts, and then it disappears as suddenly as it came. The best rain is when you can see it coming down a street in waves, heading towards you, and you open that umbrella just in time before it hits.
It seems like only yesterday when I was complaining about being sick. Well, here I am again, sick with some sort of summer flu.
I haven't written in so long, I know. Partly because the landlady's moved back into the house and I feel a bit odd working in her office while she's at home. And the other reason is because my thoughts haven't really organised themselves sufficiently into blog-entries.
A weird thing about the landlady that Mark finds unsettling. According to him, she seems to be finding reasons to appear inappropriately dressed, i.e. walking around the house in a t-shirt (I think in just a t-shirt) and acting surprised when she happens upon him, say, in the living-room (when the TV is blaring on), or the office (when you can hear Mark typing away in the next room). Is that creepy or what? Needless to say, we're househunting in earnest at the moment.
Oh, my tooth is now A-OK. So here's my big grin for ya. *GRIN*
I've got tomorrow and the next day off, so I might be able to shake off this darn flu. The Dublin Writers Festival starts on Thursday and I'll be able to get in a bit of culture. Yay! I've already bought my tickets for the Poetry Slam on Friday night.
Rain is funny here. It rains in bursts, and then it disappears as suddenly as it came. The best rain is when you can see it coming down a street in waves, heading towards you, and you open that umbrella just in time before it hits.
