Postcards From the Shed

I spent most of yesterday sifting through reviews of Mike Leigh's "Another Year" and each one I read made me want to see it more. I'm hopeful that I might get an opportunity to go to a screening (crosses her fingers) so I've held off on going to the cinema but it's going to be hard to resist.



Tomorrow I'm meeting a cousin at the Queen of Tarts cafe off Dame Street. Everyone raves about the pastries at this place so I'm looking forward to checking it out, even though I don't have much of a tooth for sweets of the cake/pie variety. I've walked by it many times and the smell's pretty divine so I'm sure they'll have something to my taste.

Noon Until Noon Again

Apparently I arrived in Dublin in time to experience an October with the most sunshine on record in the past 40 years. This is great and all, but it means that I was totally caught off guard when Ireland's true climatic colours began to bleed through the skies and it feels like a ceaseless rainfall has been teeming since Friday. I know this shouldn't be a surprise, it's a lush, rainy country right? I thought I was well-prepared (aka. I bought an umbrella) however, when I was packing for said country, I packed shoes that are completely inappropriate for its puddles. All this rain means that charming cobblestone streets become dotted with wee lakes and by the time I've finished my walk to work, my feet are thoroughly pruned. This place is just so damp. It settles in your bone marrow.

It's made for a very uncomfortable week. Enter salvation in the form of an early Christmas present from my wonderful mama and pop. Behold, new shoes...



These cover my whole foot and have a bit of height on the bottom to help lift me out of reach from those deep puddles. Fittingly enough, I later looked them up online and found they were called "Wet Weekend Wedges".

I went to a press screening for "The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest" on Thursday morning. I have not read the book series nor have I seen the first two films in this trilogy so I was the only ignoramus in attendance. (Those actually reporting on the film are better informed). Despite this disadvantage, I was able to follow along with the plot, although some of the relationships between the film's characters were hard to decipher. (Wondering what's behind all those long intense gazes?) The story was much darker than I expected and I understand there is a Hollywood version in the works with Daniel Craig attached to play the Don Juan-type reporter.

Have been reading excerpts from Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself (David Lipsky interviewing David Foster Wallace over a five day period during Wallace's promotional tour for Infinite Jest). It's taking all the tenacious willpower I can muster to refrain from rushing down the road to buy a copy of this book. (My capacity for willpower is minute.) I wish more interviews with Wallace existed, I love the conversational tone of his writing with an abundance of lengthy footnotes that feel like a "Choose Your Own Adventure" story.


Apparently interviews were very uncomfortable for David Foster Wallace, which is easy to understand. (An interview is a form of scrutiny after all, even from the most adoring inquisitor.) He explains that a writer is motivated to convey something of themselves and their consciousness to others and being interviewed by another writer surrenders their control over this impression. The Rolling Stone feature for which Lipsky was interviewing Wallace was actually dropped and this book is a bald summary of the transcripts from their time together, so the distinct flavor of DFW was not lost in translation.



Ahh, I just love him. You know that old corny question of people living or dead you'd invite to a fantasy dinner of your greatest heroes? Well, this guy tops mine.

Werewolves of London again...

Happy Hallow-scream!! (As the seasonal doorbell at my aunt and uncle's used to say during my childhood.)

Like many, I am both fascinated and easily squeamish about hauntings and other ghostly fare. There is a ghost bus tour here in Dublin and I'd like to go on it but haven't found anyone here willing to go with me. (Yah, I'm scared to go solo.) My hope is that my mother and father might be willing to join me when they come to Ireland in the last week of my internship. It's not typical family tourist fare but the fact that there is a bus tour that runs daily throughout the year means ghost-hunting must be a popular way to sightsee.

So instead of tracking down ghosts, I celebrated by eating too much candy. Examining all the different products and brands they carry in stores here has kept me very entertained while shopping and the candies are particularly intriguing. There are many which are not to my taste (much like the food) but I do wish we had these babies back home- Cadbury Fudge bars. Awesome.



It seems the people around here like to celebrate Halloween by setting off fireworks in the street. Seriously, what's the deal? I have heard no less than 7 go off in the last hour and last night someone set one off about 10 feet away from me when I was leaving Croke Park. I went to an international rules football match at the stadium last night- apparently it was a combination of Aussie rules football and Gaelic football. I have never been acquainted with either sport but it was really exciting to watch.

Friday I went out to a place that played a lot of American music I haven't heard in years which gave me the chance to dance like Courtney Cox in the Dancing in the Dark video...



Today I watched "Chloe", which was filmed in Toronto by Atom Egoyan. It came out around a year ago and I remember reading an article in which he said that Toronto is often cast and set as substitute for American cities in films and he saw this as an opportunity to let the city play itself. The cinematography highlighting Toronto landmarks reflects this statement and it made me miss it a lot, even during the salt-stained late winter time frame in which the movie takes place.

Sealed With A Kiss

I had reservations about kissing the Blarney Stone. No one is wild about planting their lips in a spot that countless other mouths have puckered up on. Arriving at the stone itself, I was so disoriented from climbing this steeply coiled staircase that I did not stop to think about matters like hygiene...



And when the gentleman sitting beside the stone said to "Have a seat beside me love", I quickly handed my hat and bag to a friend and followed his instructions. I had heard the stone was not easily accessible but after climbing so many winding stairs, I did not expect to have to lay back and dangle down to make contact. They have a ready system in place. One is lowered backwards over the edge of the tower and held around the waist (by the man who has to have one of the most unique jobs in the world) while gripping a bar in each hand. I shuffled my body down to reach the stone, which is built into the castle wall. With blood rushing steadily to my head, it took me a moment to realize it was time to kiss. Kiss I did and before I knew it I was lifted up and back on my feet.

I got a picture of the event but only have the print copy to illustrate...



I'm not sure you can tell from this photo (of a photo) but they've got iron crossbars along the bottom of the open space. Apparently they did not always have these safety measures and protocol. Instead, people were held from their ankles while leaning backwards to kiss the stone (by what I can only assume would be a very trusted friend). The promise of eloquence would not be enough to convince me to do this without those rails and the assistant.

A final picture of Blarney Castle.

Make It Hot By Striking

Who blogs in the summertime anyway? Warm weather fun absorbed all my energies. Well, even that excuse is getting pretty stale as we creep towards the end of October. I'm in Dublin for the next several weeks and have the good fortune to be located right in the core of the city hub. The view from the window beside my bed is one of my favourite things about this spot. The mild dramas that play out beneath my windowsill are seemingly never-ending.



Even as I type, cacophony vibrates from the sidewalk below; two women hiss and row with one another over an imagined slight in the pub they just came from. Well, one seems to think the insult was imagined, the other feels it was very real. I won't take sides...

While I've succeeded in getting to know the city center, my time in the countryside has been limited. Today I was taken out to Glendalough and walked through its impressive monastic ruins. Vestiges of the monastery and cemetery which lie here are dated between the 10th and 12th centuries. I really love old cemeteries. This was definitely the most archaic I've been to.






Tomorrow, to Cork.

And Now A Thousand Years Between

A friend of mine began reading my blog last week and in doing so he stumbled across a previous blogging effort which showcased one of my fledgling attempts at poetry circa early 2007. At first I was embarassed to learn of the discovery (does anything perish on the internet?) but I've decided to embrace my writing past and post the relic on this blog (and hopefully bridge any remaining gaps between my former and current online self). The verse in question...

Ideals of youth must all soon be shed
Fairies and fantasies are what we’re fed
But this world is rooted not in heart but head
Wild rhythms filtered tame

With an appetite strong for your meaningful looks
I would gaze at you through my rose lens
Perceptions were fashioned with music and books
Cloaked in green, just a rookie back then

Don’t be sorry for those days
Or that vibrant flame you kindled
With each heart beat strong I was in a daze
My head’s sharp but my beats have dwindled

And since then I’ve lost all such zeal
I know now heartache’s in the deal
There just ain’t no vow that your kiss could seal
I’ve known better since you came

I’m not knocking to lay the blame down at your door
Such gained fault’s not the kind that I give
Better off am I since I’ve learned love’s only lore
Moving on, keeping on’s how I live

So never again will its blush stain my cheeks
Cause I know such a paint leads to pain
And you can’t convince me there’s a love so unique
No I’m telling you, never again.

The seeming naivety of my cynicism seems heavy-handed now. I think I was aiming for feigned indifference in the style of "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright" (having been recently blown away by my introduction to the tune). I know it's not a very modern style but I've always liked the bite a rhyme can give to a phrase.

Today I was bummed to learn an old haunt in Waterloo blazed away in flames at dawn. I spent a lot of the day thinking about this fire (partly because the incident rippled out to my office and cuffed me onto the phone and into my desk chair). The spot is imbrued with both sentimental and prosaic memories and it got me reminiscing about the countless times I had there, including the occasion that two of my friends decided to tackle the 3 Pound Burger Challenge at Mel's Diner. Behold the mountainous meat in question below.



A sad passing for all those who came of age in and around this place.

Unburdened Hooks & Empty Drawers

Some of the songs on this album just completely slayed me. It is startlingly good, but let me warn you kids, these tunes are not for the faint of heart. The mournful tones and vivid lyrics pack a powerful punch that could awaken the stalest heartaches. This youtube video plays the album's closing song alongside its lyrics, and it's one of my favourite tracks in terms of both verse and melody.



I should follow up and report that my iPod never woke up from its coma. Hopefully an upcoming birthday means some form of replacement, but I'm not counting chickens.

Tramps Like Us

It always seems that the nicest weather is somehow reserved for weekdays, when those working NineToFives are held captive behind penned desks. This weekend's storms were wickedly torrential, and Friday night I paid dearly for my stubborn determination to run outside when my iPod became a victim of sweeping windy waves of rainwater. I thought it would be safe in my coat's pocket, but by the time I made it home, the iPod was just as waterlogged as my soaking clothes and shoes. After making a couple gasping blips and bleeps, it seemed to have bought the farm but my mom made a suggestion that has apparently received some positive buzz in motherly circles. So the iPod now sits in a bag of rice on my kitchen counter. Supposedly it is supposed to spend at least 3 days in this repose before any attempts are made to resuscitate it.



I'm crossing everything you cross when you hope something like this works.

I Talk Out Loud Like You're Still Around.....

Today I discovered Nerd Boyfriend. Awesome website for girls like me who love nerds of all varieties. Bookworms, computer geeks, film buffs, stamp collectors, Trekkies, mathematical savants, jazz cats, the list could go on endlessly (and does, on this site). Let's face it, everyone geeks out about something, so we're all nerds in some capacity. I've already found a few of my all-time favourites on there. Some extra-special dudes are repeated. I think they need to do a post about this cutie again.



The website is http://nerdboyfriend.com//

For now I'm off to watch The Office, to see another one of my favourite dorky types have a baby with Pam. I loved him as Burt in Away We Go. As everyone who knows me personally will confirm, I'm a huge sucker for guys with beards.



The cardigan? The beard? The glasses? It's all very swoonworthy.

Memento Mori

Chilling post-mortem Victorian era photographs are just the kind of spine tingle I prefer to frighten myself with. Even at the invulnerable hour of midday on a sunny Sunday, I am scaring myself by looking at galleries of these shuddersome images, many of which include surviving members of the family posed with the deceased! Why I am spending said sunny Sunday indoors looking at such things is a mystery even to me, so I will post a morbid link and then move outdoors to join the wholesome living and be normal.

http://cogitz.com/2009/08/28/memento-mori-victorian-death-photos/

I arrived at this website on a search for photos of Victorian fashion. I find it a really fascinating era, with all its heady Gothicism and the somehow titillating sexual repression resulting in some pretty strange samples of human behavior. I suppose I have a slight penchant for the macabre.

Geek Chic

Dr. Spencer Reid, can I have your glasses? I really want a pair of these.

Dizzy With Designs

My mind has been racing with plans for 2010, and my whirling thoughts have left me feeling a little dazed. Either that or I have some physical ailment that has yet to reveal itself. I am excited but jittery. I write this post in the hope that it will help me to ease my head and collect my scrambled wits. These avenues are shadowy at best right now. Like one awaiting daybreak to march an unknown stretch, time is the means to see my course.

Now to break down a year's worth of tasks and unknowns into the more manageable matter of this weekend's. Below, the input of two U.S. presidents.

"If you're walking down the right path and you're willing to keep walking, eventually you'll make progress."
- Barack Obama

"Towering genius disdains a beaten path. It seeks regions hitherto unexplored."
- Abraham Lincoln

P.S. I make no claims to be a genius of towering proportions, but I did enjoy the sentiment of Mr. Lincoln's statement in the face of a widely distributed catalogue of acceptable formulas for success.

Twenty Ten Started with a Head Cold

So far, this new decade has held nothing but convalescence for me. The worst part is that I am feeling so crappy that I cannot seem to fall asleep, eliminating the attractive option of just waking up when this is all over. I sought relief in medication, my mother gave me a sheet of Sudafed to combat the sore throat and nasal congestion but I have to say I have not been impressed with its effectiveness so far. I put some brand new sheets on my bed the other day, just in time to become bedridden.

I've been watching episodes of Freaks and Geeks on DVD with commentary, which have been entertaining enough to make me laugh even while I lie here drifting in and out of consciousness. Jason Segel and Seth Rogen are always funny in interviews, so I imagined these commentaries would be similar. They are, and Paul Feig, the creator of the show, offers some great input too. The commmentary tracks were recorded around the time that the DVD's were released, which was not until about 4 years after the show aired on television. Many references are made to how much some of the cast members have changed (or in Millie's case, have not changed). At the time the commentaries were recorded, many of the actors were not as successful as they are now, so references to Seth Rogen needing a job are obviously dated.

Back to my bed nest...

Gaga-Oh-La-la

I tried to hold out, but Bad Romance hooked me about two weeks ago and its synthy grip on my "Frequently Played" playlist has only become stronger in that time. I know I'm late to the party on this one, but it's become quite the guilty listening pleasure.

This particular video version is hilarious for so many reasons. I couldn't resist sharing it.