So, I’ve been neglectful again. The Shanono Dublin update is thus: I’ve moved, and I have no phone or internet connection. The former is fine. The latter totally bites. What else? I am procrastinating writing. I have exactly €20 left in my account and should expect to live on that for the next 10 days.
My new neighborhood is filled with wandering gangs of teenagers wearing track suits and fake tans. And, oh yes, Irish ‘Estate’ Housing—i.e. projects. It is like living full-on in a Mike Leigh film. Except, no one is British—with the exception of Daryl whom everyone thinks is Australian anyway. There is a shop at the end of the road that has a hand-written sign advertising ‘X-Mas Hampers’ and something about ‘getting your meat bone rolled for free’ (--insert wink-wink here), complete with the requisite dirty window which allows a tiny peek into what looks to be someone’s grandmother’s storage basement. The apartment is okay, if you like carpeting that looks like something they would have in a sports bar (dark green with yellow diamonds), a green leather couch, yellow walls, a toilet that doesn’t flush properly, and windows which allow any array of bugs—all for €950/month! But I shouldn’t complain as the location is good (right across from St. Patrick’s Cathedral)—or as good as you can get when you tell people where you live and they respond with ‘Oh. Yeah, I know that area. Which side of the street are you on?’ So, apparently it’s a very safe area. There is a rowhouse next to our building which has fake plastic plants PLANTED in the ground. Long story short, this move has underscored the difference between Tourist Dublin, Posh Suburbs Dublin and Real Dublin. If I have learned nothing else from this year in Dublin, James Joyce was dead-on in ‘Ulysses’. The city is so small and so packed with weirdness, absurdity and a general kind of oh, I don’t know, whatever is the opposite of ‘excitement’ toward life—and, of course, confusing streets.
What else? I am the world’s worst procrastinator of thesis. Maybe not worst, but if you have any insight into Ingmar Bergman and/or Woody Allen and existentialism, please lend me your thoughts! In brighter news, we watched ‘Sixteen Candles’ and ‘The Breakfast Club’ this weekend, so all is not lost.
I want my gossip! - 2005-08-17
Goodbye, BGT! - 2005-08-08
hell hath no fury like a awriting workshop - 2005-08-01
My Love Don't Cost a Thing - 2005-07-14
Kiss My Grits! - 2005-07-06
