Friday night we went to see a friend of Mark's band upstairs at J.J. Smyth's. It was great to finally meet one of Mark's childhood friends! Dave was a very accomplished guitarist, and we got to drink Erdinger on tap, so that was an added bonus. I took a photo, but it didn't come out so great.


Yesterday we walked into town, and stopped by the Temple Bar Food Market for a snack. The mexican food stand's burritos have potatoes in them, which I think is pretty odd, so we got a couple of Tostadas, which was a nice little nibble. The people at the mexican stand are also very nice, which helps.


I have to admit that I can't really stand Temple Bar as a rule. I guess it's sort of like Fanieul Hall in Boston, I guess -- nice to walk around once in a while, but mostly annoying.

But then we headed over to the Irish Film Institute (IFI) because we had tickets to see three short films by Kenneth Anger and a question/answer session with the man himself. The program was "Invocation of my Demon Brother," "Rabbit's Moon," and "Lucifer Rising." I have to admit that I felt a little hypnotized by the first two films (read: dozed off a couple times), but I really enjoyed "Lucifer Rising," especially the costumes! During the question/answer session, I tried to take some photos, but they came out pretty crap! I need a new camera so bad it's not even funny...
Keep in mind that he is 83 years old...


He told the most amazing story, which I so wish I had captured on film. Apparently, the original star of Lucifer Rising, Bobby Beausoleil, said he was going to buy some new amps for his band, but it turned out that the big packages he bought were bricks of marijuana. Anger told him he couldn't keep it at his place (Beausoleil was underage at the time), so he broke into Anger's cutting room and stole all the footage of himself that he could find. Then Beausoleil and Charles Manson (!!!) got together and tried to blackmail Anger into paying 10,000 dollars to get the footage back. When he wouldn't pay up, they buried it in the dessert, so Anger re-made the film. Bobby later went to prison, where remarkably he kept in touch with Kenneth Anger, who said that he was much easier to stay friends with once he was in prison. haha!

I caught a couple of short videos of him answering some of the questions. This will really only be of interest to Kenneth Anger fans, I suppose:
Video 1
Video 2

Watching the films, I could immediately see how influential his work has been on other people, and, most surprisingly, I think The Mighty Boosh is totally influence by him!!

After the films, Mark went home and I met a couple of other American ex-pat ladies for dinner. I was pretty overjoyed when one of them suggested we eat at Juice. I couldn't help but order the Mushroom Wellington, and of course it was fantastic. My first thought for our after-dinner pint was to go to Anseo, but when we walked in, the music was just a little too loud, so not sure of where to go on a Saturday night, we settled on Flannery's. The place is a bit like walking into a barn, and it's quite rustic. When we sat down, there were ladies in weird outfits with feather tails passing out shots of Southern Comfort and lime on the rocks. I don't really like SoCo (too sweet), but it was free, so I said sure, and actually on the rocks with lime, it's not bad at all! But then as it got a little later, more and more people were stumbling in and the music was getting louder and louder, so we high tailed it out of there after one drink.

I said good-bye to my new friends, and then met Mark at the new Fibbers Rock Bar on Ormond Quay. Thankfully, the new Fibbers smells a whole lot better than the old one (which is still in business on Parnell St.). It wasn't too crowded, and it's close enough from our house that the walk back wasn't so unpleasant.

Today we walked over to the Hugh Lane Gallery for the Francis Bacon exhibit. We managed to tag along on a guided tour, which was very informative and made me think about the exhibit in a way I never otherwise would have. People have told me that I should really visit the Hugh Lane, but I never realized what a fantastic place it is. I will definitely go back again and often!

Saturday Mark was scheduled to work at the Dublin Food Coop for a few hours, so I spent some time trying to finish that damned silk dress that has been hanging over my head. But then after a while I had the brilliant idea that since I had to bike to our evening plans and couldn't wear the long dress I'd had planned, that I should make myself a quick little number, ala Cinderella. So I set to work with a cowl-neck top pattern that I have been wanting to make as a dress. I sped along, but alas, I only got about 3/4 of the way through the dress before I had to jump in the shower in order to leave and meet Mark. We had tickets to see A Certain Ratio at The Button Factory. So I put together a bike-ready ensemble and ran out the door.

The show was enjoyable, though not so well attended. When we first walked in, we were among only a handful of people there. The opening band was not unpleasant -- they weren't horrible, but they didn't blow me away either. Then again, I'm trying to remember the last time a band or musician blew me away...hmmm. We realized, when A Certain Ratio hit the stage, that we'd been sitting next to two of the band members (the female singer and the guitarist). They put on a good show:




Then we headed over to Seomra Spraoi for the Queer Spraoi Ball, but sadly by then it was already midnight, and Seomra Spraoi had turned into a pumpkin and they weren't letting anyone else in, which actually was understandable since the event was to end at one am. So as a consolation prize, I agreed to grab "just one drink" at Fibber Magees. We biked back towards town and popped in.

I don't really mind the place so much, but when you walk in, you do get smacked in the face with the smell of hairspray and farts. That's really the best way to describe it. It's a strange melange of folks who congregate there -- from normy dudes to metalheads to goth chicks to what Mark would describe as "hipsters" -- and there are always really horrendously bad patent leather garments (usually boots you'd imagine a stripper would wear or a corset), bad dreadlocks, 90s-style manic panic hair, and someone asleep. On this night, the place was particularly trashed because there had been a show, so there was broken glass all over the floor. But still, even though it sounds like I'm cutting down the place, I actually don't mind it there. Good people watching, as you can imagine. And if you're not in the mood to talk, you can watch people play pool. Or you can place bets on who is going to fall asleep next.

Yesterday I volunteered for most of the day at Seomra Spraoi in the kitchen for the cafe that was open from 3 to 5. This happens every Sunday, and if you haven't been and you live in Dublin, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND IT. There's a suggested donation, which is always very, very reasonable (I think yesterday it was 4 euro), and you get to stuff your face with the most delicious vegan food. We made a lovely eggplant,zucchini, lentil dish with brown rice, served with a mixed lettuce salad and a cucumber mint salad, multi-grain bread, and then this amazing dessert topped with this toffee sauce. Yum yum yummmm.

Spending the day there, I was able to speak with some new people I'd never met before, as well as those I had, and all in all keep working on establishing ties in my community here. In particular I spoke with a woman who happens to be getting her PhD at Mark's school -- not in the same department, but in a kinda-sorta related one, and I think they would probably have some things to talk about if they met, so I hope to see her again around town.

Even though I was totally beat, I relaxed for a couple of hours at home and then Mark and I headed over to Cabra to spend time at the pub with his parents and uncle. They were all very lively and had the gift of gab last night! But by some grace, I mustered up the energy to be attentive and enjoy every second of the story telling without yawning once. Mark very happily reported his good marks, and they seemed quietly proud of his work. I always enjoy going up to see them because it reminds me of why I am here, because sometimes I do get down in the dumps and even a little homesick. But being with Mark's family makes me feel like I have family here, even if it's by marriage. I'm starting to feel a sense of belonging, anyways, if only the beginning of that emotion. And I suppose that's the first step in shirking the label of stranger.

Tuesday may be a little late for a weekend re-cap, but oh well! Here it is.

So I've started socializing, just a little, and it feels good. Interacting with humans: good. On Monday I went over to Seomra Spraoi to help them set up their new space, which is less than a ten minute bike ride from our apartment. I was a little surprised at how uh...unfinished it was! A bathroom was being constructed, and a kitchen area. The floors are cement, and the place was more or less in disarray. I rolled up my sleeves, and was set to work planing and sanding the corners of the posts around the kitchen so they'd be nice and round and smooth to avoid injury. An Italian woman, Sabrina, came by, and she and I worked together. We didnt' talk a whole lot, because the planing and the sanding was quite loud, and we had dust masks on. But we made some conversation. People stopped in and out to help and do other tasks, and it was just nice to be out doing something among people. My arms started to ache, and my hands and feet were freezing cold (there was no heat in there and the door was wide open) but I stayed until the job was nearly done. Sabrina and this other guy, Mark, talked to me about how hard it's been for people to find work of any kind. I felt sort of comforted that it's not just me having a hard time with it. After a few hours of work, when I felt that my poor post-surgery shoulder had had enough, I went home covered in saw dust and quite satisfied with myself.

On Wednesday I met a girl named Lisa, a friend of an acquaintance, for tea at Bewley's on Grafton Street. I was curious about Bewley's because I have sort of an "in" for working there, if I should decide to take it, because the catering company I worked for last year is owned by Bewley's. I just really didn't enjoy food service that much is all. But aside from that I was concerned because their uniform seems to be a short sleeved black t-shirt, and it's been my observation that tattoos are really not socially acceptable here in Ireland. And, well, there's no way around that except for a long-sleeved shirt for me. So I asked one of the waitresses about the uniform, and it seems like they might be flexible. But man I really don't want to degrade myself to working at Bewley's. Not with 7 years of college and all the work that I've done to get myself out of the working class. I don't mind working with my hands, I don't mind manual labor, but the service industry fills me with rage at this point, and the eras of my life when I've had to do it have been really miserable in a lot of ways (though I worked with a lot of great people while catering!) So we'll see. I'm just going to bear it in mind as a possibility, but hope that it doesn't come to that.

Anyways, Lisa was a real peach, and we had a very pleasant tea, and I look forward to hanging out with her again -- we talked about the fact that our respective partners don't enjoy girly things so girly movies and shopping and such will be in order. And she seems to be a music fan, so maybe we'll go to shows together as well. She lives in Smithfield, and Mark likes that part of town, so maybe we can go have some drinks as well. I think it will be good. And we have plans to go to the Dublin Co-op Flea Market on Saturday, which I am really excited about!

Friday I had a job interview, and it was for a job that I might have wanted to do -- a machinist (that's sewing machine)/Pattern Maker/Fashion Designer job. It was an ad I answered on Gumtree, and I had received a call on Sunday or Monday asking if I'd come in for an interview up in Swords. As long as I could get there by bus, I didn't care where it was! As it happens, the 41C to Swords swings right near the house. It was about a 35 minute ride, and a little stressful because her only directions were that it was in a community center next to a place called the Millenium Pub. The funny thing about Ireland is that everyone seems to give out directions based on where the pubs are. And I mean everyone. I had gone online and tried to find directions as best I could, but when you're on the bus and you're in a foreign place, and (as it turns out) the pub you're looking for doesn't exist, it gets a little hairy. I asked the bus driver for my destination about five minutes after we'd passed it, so I got off and hiked back. No big whoop. But when I got to the place, all I found was another woman waiting to be interviewed. She said she'd been waiting 45 minutes for her 3:15 appointment. She'd tried to call, but the phone was clearly off. We continued to wait, hoping for a break.

We waited another ten minutes or so, and then finally a middle aged woman with short, messy burgundy hair, missing teeth, and a baby stroller, walked in and told us that Jeanne, the interviewer, had been unexpectedly called away by a client emergency -- something to do with one of their biggest clients, so obviously it had to be attended to immediately, she sent her apologies, but we could leave our CVs and she would be in touch. I left my CV along with a CD on which I had burned a .pdf of my Portfolio. Then the woman and I walked over to the bus stop together to catch the bus back to Dublin.

She was from Germany, and seemed to be in her early to mid-twenties. I sadly didn't catch her name, but we made very nice conversation on the journey back to town, and I have to admit that I was happy again to be interacting with someone, and hearing stories of people's experiences. She told me about her Irish friends who are getting laid off, and how hard it has been for many people. I really feel like one issue making it difficult for me at the moment in finding work is my nationality. If I'm up for a job against Irish nationals, there's just no way, in this economic climate, that I'm going to be considered. People are very sensitive about non-nationals coming in and taking up Irish jobs. So I need to apply for jobs where my education and experience are a real asset and make me uniquely qualified. This is a challenge, but not impossible, since I do (finally!) have a decent CV.

When I got home, I was pretty grumpy and forgot all about the show at Seomra Spraoi, which would have been a fun time. Instead, I sulked at home all night. On Saturday I headed over to Seomra Spraoi to help cook for the opening weekend event. I was helping Damo, a very nice guy I'd met on Monday. The place looked much improved! The bathroom was finished, and the posts I'd worked on were finished in linseed oil. People were gardening out back, and there was semblance of order in the place with a bookshelf and a little 'zine library area. I was commissioned to make some signs, drank some delicious coffee, and ate Damo's perfectly spiced soup and salad. I sat with some really friendly girls -- one from California, and another from Galway. But once lunch was over I decided to go home for a bit.

I convinced Mark to finally visit Seomra Spraoi for their "Fancy Dress Party" event, and I'm so glad I did! People were dressed festively indeed, though we weren't out of place in our jeans. Even some of the men were in their fancy party dresses, which I loved. That's true commitment! There was a party game going on in the center of the main room -- musical chairs -- in preparation for a slapdash "makeover" featuring secret identity designers and rules that I couldn't follow, but it looked like great fun. I enjoyed watching it, because it was so unlike anything I'd ever seen back home. We don't have party games; we stand around lamely with our drinks in our hands and try to look like as indifferent as possible! I loved the spectacle of a game in the middle of the room with people drinking all around, and music, and people dressed up in crazy outfits, and pots of paint on a table for face painting, and funny hats, and a young girl as the MC who would occasionally break into Irish, even if most of the people didn't understand her.

We decided to move on, however, probably just as the night was gearing up there, and we headed over to Fibber Magee's, Mark's favorite local joint. It's where he metal dudes go. The first time he told me the name I started laughing because it sounds like a joke. Like, seriously? Fibber Magee's? But we headed over there for a couple of drinks. On our way out, we were flagged down by a group of people looking for Seomra Spraoi, and it was a great coincidence that we were coming from there, so it felt good that we could give good directions. I felt a little regretful that we were leaving, but felt confident we would have a good time at our next two destinations. For me it's a people watching experience more than anything. Just as we were getting our first pint, a band was going on. Their first song was actually quite good, but then the second one was sort of meh, so we went back into the bar. We had a nice chit chat and of course critiqued all the outfits in the room (and believe me, there is always a lot to critique when PVC is involved), and then moved on to our third destination.

It was a bit of a disappointment, because Mark had seen an online flier that said that it was free admission to the evening's Goth night at Peadar Karney's, but apparently it was at the door man's discretion, and I think that we weren't dressed festively enough for him (ie we don't dress one bit gothy) so he charged us each 6 euro at the door, which was kind of bullshit. But, whatever, he had some lame excuse and we didn't argue. But admitedly the music was of a much more industrial bent than the last time we were there, and there wasn't one song that inspired us to dance. And to be honest, hardly anyone else wanted to dance either. There were a few "hits" that got people up there, but it just was not my thing -- a lot of new stuff that I didn't know and I didn't get into. I guess I can't get into new goth, especially if it has an industrial tinge to it. And I remember when "goth" meant something entirely different anyways. But I digress...

However I was still quite satisfied with our evening. We stopped into our favorite kebab shop for late-night falafel and tahini fries, and had a nice bike race home (I won). I think I crawled into bed finally sometime after 4:30.

You're probably wondering when will this end....

Sunday, when we woke up, it was time for more Seomra Spraoi! Mark and I headed over there for a scrumptious vegan meal. Holy moly it was so good I couldn't get over it. There were like four different dishes, and each was a culinary experience. My mouth is watering just remembering the food. After we ate, there was a gathering of about 30 people and a person from each of the group that use the Seomra Spraoi space gave a 3-minute talk about their group and its aims. There are lots of really interesting things happening there -- people doing good work. Good, but hard, and probably discouraging at times. I definitely want to get involved with some of them though, and will keep my eyes open for happenings. Maybe I can be active here in Dublin in ways I never got off my duff in Boston.

Sunday night we went to the pub to meet Mark's parents, and had a great time as usual. They are just so very pleasant. Even if I am in a sour mood before we go see them, they always manage to make me laugh.

Jeez. Well I have more I could say, but I have to do something with my day besides write in this here blog. People often ask what it's "like" here. I'm not sure I'm describing it adequately. But I guess over time I'm hoping it will start to become cumulative.

And finally... Happy Birthday to my dear, beloved Father. I miss you always and think of you every day, constantly! I am so lucky to have been raised by such a caring, intelligent, funny, unique person. There's no one in the world like you, and you inspire me always to push myself and be myself, and to be proud, and also, to be a little ballsy too. ;)