The days of Donegal

I spent the Easter break gallivanting around Donegal and it was pretty awesome. We had a very chilled out vibe going and it only rained on us once! Its hard to describe Donegal; its totally beautiful but in a wild, rugged way. As I was standing on a beach surrounded by mountains getting blown to pieces by the wind, I felt very lucky to live in a country that was so capable of being really, really ridiculously good looking.

I kind of fell in love with Buncrana Cinema; it shows one film for a whole week, at 8 o'clock every evening. It also has Bingo Friday-Sunday.

I would love to be able to say 'its raining so we cant race our tractors, want to go see the film?'. Oh for a simple country life.

The new one by Lionel Shriver

When I heard that Lionel Shriver had published a new book, I literally rushed out to get one. I even went to Easons to buy it, which is usually against my principles, but it was the closest book shop to the bus stop and I wanted to optimize reading time. Its always an odd mixture of excitement and apprehension when an author who has written a book (We Need To Talk About Kevin) thats firmly nestled on my definite Top-Ten-Super-Awesomest-Books(-If-You-Hated-This-Please-Never-Speak-To-Me-Again ) List brings out something new. Dont judge a book by its cover (or title) yadayada but we all know we do and this one was...interesting:

I honestly didn't know what to expect. Odd title, right? At the end theres a note that says Lionels husband came up with it. But I digress. The book is about a guy who saves up money his whole career to escape to what he calls The Afterlife in a third world country, and this plan to leave eventually kind of defines him as a person both to himself and other people, but when he eventually decides its now or never, his wife gets an incredibly rare and vicious kind of cancer and all their money has to go towards her healthcare. Healthcare, and the scam that is the American Healthcare system, is a major topic throughout the book; the guys best friend has a daughter with a rare genetic disease that requires constant care and causes her to rack up a pricetag of just under 2 million dollars at age 17. Between the daughter (named Flicka after the pony in 'My Friend Flicka'!) and the wife, there is definitely an element of questioning how much one human life is worth, in hard cash. 

I really enjoyed the book. It's well written, interesting and multi-layered. I'll admit, I occasionally had to put it away because the descriptions of chemo, enemas etc were making me a bit nauseous, but there is a very sweet story in how Shep cares for his wife during her illness, and many interesting topics raised by his best friends signature political rants (which were not unlike a certain best friend of mines political rants). Im not gonna give away the end because I'm not EVIL. It hasn't replaced We Need to Talk About Kevin on my list, but its defintely tying with Post-Birthday World for 2nd Favourite Shriver Novel, which is high praise. 

It was actually very interesting reading a book all about Healthcare in the U.S.A. at the same time as the passing of Obama's Healthcare reform bill in the Senate. I had watched the debates live and been following the progress on the news before I picked up So Much For That, and it definitely put things into perspective. I still don't claim to fully understand, but here's something I do know:

I love Obama! 

I watched his speech to the troops in Bagram this evening. I'm anti war and all that, but he was still awesome; I think he made it clear that he supports the troops not the war and that he is doing his best to resolve the situation in a way thats good for everyone. AND he was totally rocking the military jacket.

Brushing off his shoulder, coz he dont care what the haters say.

One word describes this man.

Awesome.

Thank you Mr.Postman!

So I was huddling in a sunny patch and drinking tea yesterday morning when suddenly this giant pile of post was deposited in front of me by my Father Figure. Its been literally weeks since anything in the little metal box had my name on it, and I'm starting to get suspicious that our postman monitors my life and only distributes my post to me when he feels things need shaking up. Is there any other explanation as to why my Sarah Lawrence acceptance letter mysteriously appeared at 9 in the evening? 

Anyway, he must have known I'd been kind of down last week, so waited until my grumpy official post was balanced with some good news. This pile included my Financial Aid package from Sarah Lawrence,  a hospital appointment, a tv license threat and....a letter that said I have been shortlisted for a Hennessy First Fiction Award! 

I'm so happy and honoured.

In an article called 'Hennessy X.O awards first step on road to literary glory' they say many successful Irish writers have won it or been shortlisted early in their career, including Joseph O'Connor and Colm McCann, winner of last years US National Book Award.

There's a ceremony in April where there will be agents and publishers mingling with us hopefuls, which is terrifying and awesome. 

I'm definitely going to be  wearing all my good luck charms until then (and avoiding walking under ladders). I'm also trying to get back to writing more, which is hard when one is procrastinating wildly, so I'm doing a course this weekend at the Writers Centre. I hope I can make it because I'm feeling kind of fluey, but:

paracetemol! yay! shortlists! yay! 

YAY!

spring awakening

The trees outside my window are still pretty bare but the lovely sun on my skin reminds me that somewhere out there is a summer waiting to happen.

My current sunshine playlist :)

It looks like it might even be warm enough outside for me to shed the fur coat thats been keeping me cosy and shake the dust off my favourite cape...

NOTE: Many of my 'friends' have been making fun of my cape since I got it in a thrift shop in Williamsburg back in November, but they are everywhere on the catwalk for both S/S and A/W 2010. When they're all luxuriating in the awesomeness and lovely arm freedom of wearing a cape in a few months time, I'll be sure to gloat a bit as I glide by regally. Except, of course, to my fashionably-challenged-but-critical friends, at whom I will shake my head knowingly.

Oh no! The sun just went behind clouds. I'd better hobble/run off quickly if I'm gonna get this trend started on the streets of Dublin today.

Snow White's stitching up the circuit board.

Felt it in my fists, in my feet, in the hollows of my eyelids

Shaking through my skull, through my spine and down through my wrists

No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself is undone

No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden

No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love

No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world.

Its a bit surprising that I have had this blog for a while now, and still haven't talked about Florence and The Machine. I first got into her music about 2 years ago when her first single 'Kiss With A Fist' came out. Then her album 'Lungs' dropped in June 2009 and BOOM she was mega mega famous. She was the reason I really wanted to go to Oxegen, and though she was playing a tiny stage there was thousands of people spilling out of it everywhere. We were lucky enough to be able to watch from the side of the stage and I think it was, if I'm going to be honest, the best gig of all time. Here are some pictures from the fateful day (trying to act cool whilst being ridiculously intimidated and also discretely operating a camera is HARD)

I got a tip off that she was going to be reading poetry at Electric Picnic so I donned my best rain gear and got a front row seat.

Awesome, no? Plus my dad was impressed when I quoted John Berryman a few days later.

The most important thing I can say about Florence is that if you get a chance, go see her live. She's got this voice that fills the room/tent/world. If you don't get goosebumps, you're probably dead. 

Sarah Lawrence dreams

With the knowledge that I didn't get the Fulbright came a brief shaking up of the chances that I'll make it to Sarah Lawrence next year, which made me very sad. 

BUT...

a few days on now and I'm feeling hopeful once again :)

Someday that might be me strolling across the lawn...diligently watching out for potholes, of course. 

Trying to navigate the world of American banking and loans is like standing at the edge of a dizzying precipice, but I'm counting on the famously good spirited folk to help me safely across some kind of secret (but safe) rope bridge. 

chicken soup for the soul

It has been brought to my attention that there are several mentions of shoes so far on my blog, and I have therefore put a ban on talking about them for at least 5 entries. Instead, I'm going to talk about poetry...

shoes, on my feet
when will you meet
the pavement once again
without potholes
breaking your bearers
bam

HA! (Paul, that one was for you).

But seriously, I went to a poetry reading today at the Writers Centre, mon place where I work when I'm not broken, and it was lovely. It reminded me of how much I love poetry, the way it flows and breaks, that moment when you find a one liner that says everything you didn't even know you were feeling. I like to call that soul recognition (and someday there's gonna be an awesome song called that, just wait n see).