May 26, 2007

Like A Whirlpool; It Never Ends

It's been one of those weeks that kind of crushes you and nourishes you all at once. It's been a week of drama, and not of the election-frenzy-fulled variety. (I predictably voted Green.) But I don't have a clue how to blog anymore. It seems that the older I get, the broader the category of "Stuff That Can't Be Discussed On The Internet" widens. (Remember my heady college days? With endless accounts of the mundanities of my life, delighting generations of middle class children for half a century?) It's been an exhausting week: it involved the tasty combination of shocks, tears, laughs and live music, creating a confusing pie on which I feasted with weary jaws. Ah ha ha ha! I love my own mixed metaphors. That's cheered me up nicely now. This morning, after a goodbye forever at the airport and a breakfast with old friends by the sea, I retired to bed and the television today to bask in the unusual sweetness of a Saturday without obligations.

Clearly exhausted

SAFE TOPICS

This week I enjoyed the spectacular talents of the Dave Matthews Band (in the Point - boo hiss) and Duke Special and his team of clever music monkeys (in Vicar Street - calloo callay etc.). Aside from the soul-enriching delights of being in the same room as mighty musicians and thousand of their fans was the pleasurable knowledge that I didn't buy any of the tickets - they were gifts. Thanks to Mullen and Wylie for the love. :) Duke Special even came down into the crowd and taught us a sailor song. I was so close I could have pulled his dreadlocks, and it may or may not be true that I did in fact give his dreadlocks a little tug when the security guard wasn't looking. I might also have cupped a Nordie buttock. You can't prove it was me though.

This week I also had my first experience of wandering Dublin's strange but oddly pleasing IFSC quarter, where I encountered these handsome fellows and ate in a really cheap Italian restaurant where the pizza sauce tasted like ketchup. I was forced to pelt the ridiculously beautiful Italian waitress with my ketchupy meal but I think it worked out ok because we left before the police arrived. Nifty: that's me.

So today, the husband unit and I have been watching the 2006 smash hit (ha ha ha!) Alien Autopsy which has given me the chance to relive my childhood crush on the delectable Declan Donnelly. By-ah Grove, anyone?

Gwan - give us a quick round of the theme tune. I believe it went a little like this:

Oh yeah. That's what it's all about baby. I enjoyed Alien Autopsy though, in spite ot the hideous reputation that preceded it. It's a genuinely fun recounting of a mysterious tale. If we were together in person I'd make a spooky noise and wave my hands about a bit here. As it is you'll have to just imagine me doing it. Sorry.

I'm glad that the June bank holiday weekend is approaching, as I am feeling the need for festival and in its absence, bank holiday is the next best thing. I know I am in need of a bit of fun when I find myself planning what I'll buy my mother for Christmas or what I'll dress up as for Hallowe'en. (I have to admit that even where our office might go for our Christmas party has crossed my mind.) I am planning an end-of-term party for my colleagues that won't involve a Wild West or Hawaiian theme, but might involve a lot of food and the unending amusement of watching stiff academics turn into floppy gossips with mouths full of tapas and plonk. I'm the sober one with the camera collecting the taxi fares. So we're thinking of trekking down to a magical house in the secluded woodland of Leitrim for a lot of beer and barbeques and perhaps we'll catch the musical wonders of Liam McDermott who is in some kind of inexplicable song competition in the nether regions of Drumshanbo. Not exactly the mardis gras but distinctively Irish and I'm all about reclaiming the heritage and all that crap.

We also watched a great documentary on the discovery of lithium as a use for bipolar disorder in the forties. Maybe you saw it too? It got me thinking what I could discover simply by injecting a lot of urine into the abdomen of various domestic animals: cats for example. I don't have a cat as the husband unit is allergic to them (nerd) and I'd love to have one and apart from the urine injections I swear it'd all be cat-treats and belly-rubs. What else could you inject into a cat - brown sauce? This might help cure AIDS. Might as well give it a bash. Don't think I don't love animals though - I went to Dublin zoo on Sunday and fed cheesy puffs to all the animals and birds I could reach.

neuro-praxis -- It's Tuesday, It's Fat, And That's Quite Enough of That

Posted by neuro-praxis on May 26, 2007 09:54 PM, in the category Teriyaki Steak