#11

Sometimes the 24 hour European clock makes for more interesting conversations than you'd expect. For example, I was in the supermarket the other day when one clerk informed another that it was 1944. Oh no! I thought. The Blitz!

Luckily the next two years passed in minutes, and I celebrated VE day with the purchase of more Big Al's Lemon-Chili chicken.

Every time I think my Wednesday research seminar doesn't secretly exist because some people don't know how to use technology, I run across something, as in our last class, like so: when the woman running the seminar asked us to type in a URL. "It's very long," she said. "I'll give you a few minutes."

Uh-huh.

It's been an interesting few weeks, that's why you haven't heard from me in so long my friends. A busy few weeks. Friend Jeanette visited a week or so ago, and that was nice. Once you start buying groceries in a place, I think you stop thinking about it as an exciting location. Wandering around with a map in my hand again, made it all sort of feel new. Which was fortunate, because it gave Ireland another chance to eat at my soul. Sightseeing in Dublin, or indeed Malahide or Dun Laoghaire, places we also went: Does it matter if you get an early start on the day? Of course not, nothing opens till ten. Will it matter if you're hungry? No, you can't eat anywhere till 12:30. And can you have an event-filled day? Sure, if you can pack it in between 10 and the closing time of 3.

And that's during the week. When we went to Dun Laoghaire, to the Joyce museum out there, there was a sign that literally said: closed. Next opening, next Sunday, 9:30-10:30.

We all feel pretty much the same way over here, I think. We're really enjoying ourselves, we're all glad we did it, but there is something about this damn country. Oh well. All you can do is laugh. And sob, sob unstintingly.

The other day I woke feeling rather ill, which was at least marginally self-inflicted. But being the studious gentleman that I am (impelled a little, I confess, by a text message with the charming words 'where are you, you (*#@$*()#in lightweight) I dragged myself to my 10 am class.

While there are many things I feel one can study while slightly under the weather, I feel Joyce's Ulysses is, in those conditions, more like attending a STOMP concert. Two hours and I'd been reduced to a quivering pile of jelly, requiring my friends to drag me back to my room in tea spoons.

Unfortunately, awaiting me there was an email from my Hebrew professor. I'd just been bumped up from basic to intermediate Hebrew and was supposed to attend my first class that day. Unfortunately, said class had been shifted from 4 pm, to 1. It was now 12:20. I taped myself together and dragged myself down the road again.

Now I know what you're thinking. While I was walking, was I beset by a sudden FREAK HAILSTORM? Why YES, I WAS. When I got to where the class was supposed to be, was it there? WHY NO IT WAS NOT. How did I find out? BECAUSE UPON SITTING DOWN I WAS HANDED AN ESSAY TEST ON A SUBJECT RELATING TO EUROPEAN HISTORY BECAUSE GOD KNOWS IT'S IN NO WAY UNREASONABLE TO EXPECT THAT IN A CLASS OF SEVEN PEOPLE NO ONE WOULD NOTICE THAT HEY, THIS KID WHO SHOWED UP TO TAKE THE ESSAY TEST, I'VE NEVER SEEN HIM BEFORE.

Did I find the Hebrew class. No I did not. Did I give up and go home to take my much needed nap. Yes, I did. Was the sun shining, then, in the immortal words of Paul Simon, like a red, rubber ball. It was. Did I punt a squirrel over the life sciences building in murderous rage. Of course.

That night I had one of my best basketball practices ever, incidentally. But I'm not sure it's worth the risk. Besides, I don't think it was quite impressive enough. I did get into the last two minutes of a game recently as every other person on the team got injured and fouled out, but I'm not sure that counts as a valuable contribution. Also, as a sop to my wounded pride, the coach told me he was all about to put me in, in the third quarter, because we had a huge lead, but then we frittered it away so he could no longer take that risk. Oh well. At least it's only because he thought I'd be a risk to our winning the game.

I did show my hustle in helping to drag a wounded teammate off the field. My celerity was remarked upon, post-game. Happy to be a'service, guv'nor.

I watched the superbowl in the same bizarre dance club in which I'd watched the playoff games. They'd turned the dance floor into a theater, which was occupied by my group of five or so, a party of confused Nigerians who'd come to watch the African Cup soccer champions, and some kind of sports team behind us that kept getting into huddles and celebrating everything in general and nothing specific. I believe they were rooting for football to happen. And it did.

Nevertheless, we all went absolutely nuts when David Tyree caught that ball from Manning….that was literally the most amazing football play I have ever seen live. It was 4 am and we'd been drinking since 9 (hey, we had to save our seats) but wow. With less than 2 minutes left, to rip yourself away from the Pats d-line, to have that kind of catch made…wow.

I had basketball practice on valentine's day. I can't help but comment, often, on how clear it is that we're the B-team. It's not that the A-team is so very good at basketball, but you can pretty much tell the difference by looking at our two squads. Just as a note on this phenomenon, let me say that the Volleyball team, which practices at the same time we do on the court next to us, was decimated by the holiday. The B Basketball team has rarely had such a good turn out. Well done, fellas. Well done.

On that note, Maggie and I are now back together. Or, to put it another way, we have put our…lack of differences…ahead of us… My personal life is my personal life, but I felt that she deserved a shoutout. and here it is!

ßthat's your shoutout! Enjoy it.

(She didn't ask, I'm just like that).

This is getting long. What else? I have the sneaking suspicion G-mail doesn't like Jews, for one. You know how they have ads on the side of g-mail specifically relating to the stuff you're writing about? Well I presented a paper on ancient Judaism at a symposium the other day and, while sending an email about it, among the ads about learning Hebrew and traveling to Israel was one for "Dublin Colon Cleansing."

I find that unnecessary.

(Both because it's rude and...really? Colon Cleansing? This is a market?)

All continues well with me. Little bit of a cold, no big deal. Writing about Joyce, no big deal. Concentrated Zombie invasion, worry about tomorrow. Which puts me rather in mind of Ross' hilarious one-act play on zombie apocalypse, now that I'm reminiscing. Ah, Zombie apocalypse.

With love to them deserving of love, and hate to those before us, I remain

6 feet tall and about 150,

Andrew

#10

There is a…I don’t know how to describe it exactly…our courtyard is paved with flat rectangular paving stones of appreciable size, and the thing about them is some of them no longer fit well in their original casings (presumably because Ireland, in dampness, is superior to some parts of the Pacific Ocean). And so one side of them ,generally, is slanted down which is where the daily rainfall collects (as all of us are equal children of God’s gravity, but some of us more than others). And the thing is, see, as you’re walking along, you’re not going to step in the wet pool, so you step on the other side, but that’s a bad idea because as everyone knows, if you step on the raised side of a vertical plane, what happens? Yes, it forms at that point what I like to refer to as a “water catapult,” dousing your leg from the knee down (drowning hapless leprechauns) and then you have the enviable task of walking to class, or around campus, with a wet leg, a wet shoe, and a poor dead leprechaun on your conscience.

I hope, ten dispatches in that we can be honest with each other. I’ve described already the laundry situation—that, in short, if ever I want to do it, I have to carry my laundry for about 15 minutes to the front of college, pay 3 euros (about five bucks) per wash and a euro per dry, carry it 15 minutes back (what, you thought it’d get shorter? My, we are parenthetical today….) and then hang it up around the tiny room anyway because actually that dryer is just a leprechaun with a hair dryer, and also, your pants leg is wet anyhow. What I haven’t described, I suppose, is the effect this has on my daily life. Basically, when I can put off laundry no longer, I pull out a suitcase, and then I pull out my large heap of dirty clothes. Then I look from one to the other, say no f—in way. And then-and here’s where it gets hairy-- I start deciding which things actually aren’t that dirty after all and put them back in my closet. Sweaters, overshirts, things that probably didn’t actually touch my skin, lacy underwear…that kind of thing.

I know, gross. And some shirts just get cut out of the rotation altogether. I can hear my mother saying “you should have brought them home over winter break!!!” Chillax, ma.

I’VE BECOME MORE BEAST THAN MAN.

And just as well, because I am once again living in a cave. That’s right, another light has burned out. Perhaps burned out is too strong a word; what I mean really is flicker uncontrollably. This is twice the problem actually because it’s the main light, and uses the same switch as the one that controls the only other light in the room. So we choose between catalytic, twitchy fit, and darkness. Am I writing this dispatch and doing all my reading by table lamp? I am, thank you for your concern. Will this ever be fixed? Answer hazy, ask again later.

I tell you guys. Prices are so high here, you’d think there’d be a lot of cash to go around, and you’d think some of that cash might go to fixing some stuff that’s broken. There’s a leak in the walkway between my building in the rest of campus. Been there for weeks. Do they fix it? Nah. They just add more buckets…there are about five now…

ITS BECOME MORE BUCKET…DEN… THAN HALLWAY…..
(I heart parallelism).
News in brief: Recent basketball games: 1) showed up to, did not play. We lost (wonder why, huh?). 2) Did not show up, we lost by same amount (my cheering apparently has no discernible effect? Sad). Superbowl coming up, no comment (Go giants. Gross). Adipose tissue, still as was when left. What are my roommates listening to? Me playing the Killers’ read my mind constantly, loudly, poorly on guitar. Etc.
I learned yesterday the reason that the library is a terrific eyesore. Seems they were going for a hanging gardens of Babylon thing (no, really, this time) only the architect forgot to calculate for the weight of the soil. So after everything sprung leaks they had the place de-potted, so to speak, which is why it now looks like three giant, empty flowerpots stacked on top of each other.

I’ve gone out a few nights in a row this last week, so I’ve had a hard time leaving enough money to, you know, eat food. This has caused some borderline dangerous activity on my part. Last night I had “Big Al’s Chili-Lime Chicken Mini-Fillets” for dinner. I bought them half price, for 1,50 euros at a grocery store. For the last week I’ve been eating mostly a packet of seasoned chicken I bought, opened, put in the fridge, and occasionally put on bread, with cheese, grill, eat. Problem is I have no cellophane or anything so even though its been in the fridge, it has been opened. Other items on my food list recently include microwaveable spring rolls, zap ‘em till they’re soggy. I’m still alive, but for how long?

Brief update: Sunday night, pouring out of a bar like a Guinness myself, I eyed, finally and for the first time, the “restaurant” across the street whose halogen name blazed only “Hot Food.” I had heretofore always assumed this was a warning sign, as in really? That’s the best you can do? I think most places have that as the starter set. But that night…
That night, for less than 4 euros (you can barely get a coke for less than four euros) I took home some bizarre hamburger crossover, whom they may have had to chop the legs off briefly before serving. Owing to the light situation, I consumed it in darkness, and have no recollection at all of what it may have looked like. That only made it more delicious.
Seriously, I’m not sure I’m going to keep living.
In other news, a truly terrible thing happened to me this morning. I went to buy shampoo, having run out the day before, but accidentally pick up conditioner. Just conditioner. I then went to take a shower, and I had NO IDEA WHAT WAS GOING ON. It wouldn’t go into my hair! And then it wouldn’t come out of my hair! I didn’t know what had happened, or what to do about it!

It pretty much ruined my day.

Have I done anything in these past weeks? Not really, I suppose. Papers, I blame papers, an unfortunate occupational hazard of this brave line of work. I hereby promise to get out a little bit more, and ignore, more forcefully, the promptings of my inner conscience. For you, my friends, for you. Achievements? I don’t know, but beGod, I’ve kept a pint or two company all the way to the bottom of the glass.

Love,
A