Lunch: Chez Mamie

They’re doing massive construction work on Hanway Street: a tall building’s going up. Self asked what that building was going to be and was told: an expanded Primark and luxury condos.

Oh gosh. That means Hanway Place will be awash in posh types. How’s that going to change Chez Mamie? Self probably won’t be able to get a seat there any longer! It’s such a wee restaurant! Maybe because of the noise of construction, the place was rather empty. Self loves their salads, though. Absolutely loves them.

And, just like that, self got the idea for a story and started scribbling like mad into her notebook:

Maxine had impressed her parents into gift-ing her a trip to London by getting an A on a paper about the Thirty Years War (“1618 to 1648,” Maxine told her mother Cici, who blushed with maternal pride).

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Monday: London Review Bookshop Monthly Film Screening

The London Review Bookshop is showing a Sally Potter film tonight: “Yes.”

That’s the one where all the characters speak in iambic pentameter (And, rhyme!)

“How long is the film?” self asked the salesperson (Who is the same salesperson who was there last year, and the year before, and who turns out to be a poet. His first collection just came out!)

“100 minutes,” he said, smartly.

Okay, self got a ticket. Considering this bookshop was where she got to shake hands with Sally Potter in person, in 2014, it seems like fate or magic. If you believe in either of those things. And she was there again last night, along with her cinematographer, the same one who worked on Orlando, and self was fan-girling like mad.

Stay tuned.

Poetry Monday: Agnes Marton’s “Being an Iguana”

Self loves poetry. Because she doesn’t have a fixed abode, it helps that poetry collections are easier to carry around than fiction collections or novels or memoirs (But who is self kidding? At this moment, she is in Wexford, Ireland, and half her suitcase is made up of books. Really heavy books. She may have dislocated a shoulder)

Agnes Marton, a poet self met at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre in Annaghmakerrig, loves animals. Here’s a poem from her collection, Captain Fly’s Bucket List. It’s not the whole poem, because self is worried about infringing copyright violations. But hopefully this excerpt will give readers a good idea of the wry wit of Agnes’s poetry:

BEING AN IGUANA

Too bored to eat, I’m getting thin.
I feel peeled
like cheap potatoes for a stew.

My owner asks the Agony Aunt
if his new pet hates him.

Once I tried to escape
and fetch the fire from the Sun.

While captive, I’m a dragon.
I build mountains for me to climb.

I crawl clockwise.
Look at my teeth, my tattered claws,
my parched tail.

Agnes Marton is a Hungarian-born poet, editor, linguist, and visual artist.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Earth 2: Daily Post Photo Challenge, 6 May 2016

“. . .  share your vision of our glorious Mother Earth.”

— Jen H., The Daily Post Photo Challenge, 6 May 2016

Here are pictures of just one little corner of our magnificent planet: the grounds of the Tyrone Guthrie Centre in Annaghmakerrig. Self took these pictures in July 2015:

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Thought of the Day

DSCN2548

Gallery Bookshop, Main Street, Mendocino, CA

Stay tuned.

DEEP SOUTH Sentence of the Day

“And then there are the laziest and most presumptuous of people, those who can read but who don’t bother, who live in the smuggest ignorance and seem to me dangerous.”

— Paul Theroux, Deep South

Stay tuned.

Reading: NECESSARY FICTION

“When the shells hit the zoo five-hundred exotic species spurted like awkward pollen and scattered all across the tan streets and plumbing-covered roofs of Baghdad. The leopards ran for the Tigris. An elephant wandered into the middle of the intersection where I sat in the turret of a Bradley Fighting Vehicle, praying to the satellite gods to show me the way to a checkpoint that appeared on the intel photo but didn’t seem to exist in reality. Getting lost had been my greatest fear since leaving Kuwait.”

— “Third Order Effects,” a piece by James Stegall (Read the rest of it on the Necessary Fiction site, here)

“To Newcastle!” Peeta says. “Why not to Shanghai?”

Oh, thou jest-est. Or whatever.

The setting is England, in the self-doesn’t-know-what century.

Peeta has just been called up to Oxford, while Katniss and Prim remain in Winchester.

KATNISS

My aunt and uncle wish to take Prim and I to Newcastle.

PEETA

To Newcastle? My God, why not to Shanghai?

KATNISS

Please, do not jest.

PEETA

And you wish to give Prim the opportunity to have a London season?

KATNISS

I do (I could not doom my sister’s future by being selfish enough to go after my own heart’s desires.)

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Future Dublin in The Irish Times

The Irish Times’ Dublin in the Coming Times is a fascinating project which invites Dubliners young and old to submit pieces re-imagining the city.

The first pair of pieces appeared in the paper back in February. Okay, so they were by Actual Famous Writers (Sebastian Barry and the writer known as Dublin Hun).

Another story, by Christine Dwyer Hickey, was published Saturday, 16 April. This is the one is self is reading:

Notes: Dublin is super dystopian. There is a kind of plague rooting in the population. Checkpoints and searches all over the place. A grandmother is desperately trying to save her grand-daughter’s life. Almost the first thing she does is make the girl masquerade as a boy, which go figure:

For weeks her words had shunted into my head, but by the time we reached the river at Chapelizod I remembered only this: I was nine years old, and I was a boy and my name was now Demba.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Luck of the Irish

WhiteTulips

Self’s most fervent wish: The luck of the Irish be with her, please, while she is in Annaghmakerrig . . .

This place hasn’t failed her yet. She’s writing like crazes. Something in the air?

One thing good about having a half-broke camera (The lens stopped opening all the way, about two weeks ago) is that self has been exploring the visual capabilities of Photo Booth. And it has been fun.

DSCN9722

The slashes of the half-way open lens of her half-broke camera don’t seem as distracting when she zooms in, somehow.

Robby’s wife gave her these white tulips yesterday.

Well, then. Stay tuned.

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