Things to do when half asleep

So the week is more than half way done, and half asleep might or might not be the way you're feeling right now... but if it is, here are some fun things you can try to maximise your enjoyment of that particular state of being...

1. Cook yourself a nice "Coffee" using the following simple recipe:
5-7 g of coffee
45 ml of milk (if available - can be substituted with cold water if milk is not around the house and you don't have a cow)
230 ml of boiling hot water
Combine all the ingredients in a bowl, mixing thoroughly - the order of addition can be varied depending on the flavour/ dissolution level required.
Serve in a "Cup" if desired.

2. Investigate your own body, by allowing yourself to fall asleep in an unusual position, discover new muscles within your frame that you never knew existed; when you awake they will announce themselves by their aches. Isn't science fun?

3. Write. Not only does writing when you are nearly asleep lead to greater creativity - because you are as close as possible to that master of imagination, the subconscious, but also this technique leads you to a pleasant surprise when you get to read stuff that you don't remember ever writing. A word of caution, on the rereads - if what you are rereading is truly brilliant check whether it is covered with card board - this may actually be a book that you own, and not something you've written at all.

If you would like to try these things, but don't seem to be half asleep at the moment, don't panic, merely stay up longer than usual, all night if necessary - you will get there in the end, it's nature, we all get sleepy eventually.

Enjoy...

Fair Glór

I like "the Glór sessions" and I like "Fair City" - luckily the two things are compatible, since the Glór sessions are held on one of the few nights of the week when Fair City is not on. Stephen James Smith may tell you this is an accident, a lucky chance, but I don't think so. Readers, imagine my delight last night when an actual Fair City writer was reading at the Glór sessions. Fintan O'Higgins was his name and he read some really great poems, the highlight and grand finalé being the one entitled "The Poet proposes to Beyoncé" - (linked up and all there for you - I'm so damn organised) - a work of genuine genius.
Another personal highlight was the artist previously known only in this blog as "Floppy hair guy" - and I even found out his name for ye this time - Pearce McGloughlin, - one to watch out for, seriously, he played 5 songs and I would've happily listened to another 5 from him, (then I would have said - ah get off, I'm bored with ya now, go on, ya scamp)...... (- no actually, I think i'd have kept on applauding politely)
Damien Kinnerk (artist known as the school boy poet of last week's blog fame) was lining up to read as well, however the chariot was about to turn into a pumpkin, so we had to run.
Huge thanks too, to the chariot driver (not the same one as appeared in yesterday's photo) who put up with my contented drunken ramblings all the way home.

Delegation

A bit tired and lazy tonight, so I'm delegating today's blog to whomever wishes to do it for me. The subject is the aul lad in the sulkie as per the above photo - as taken this evening on a roundabout while trying to pass him out. The best blog - as written in the comments will be copied and pasted up to here and the author will win a free LOLLIPOP!!! Go on - you know you want to...

Tarmac Walk

Walking on airport tarmac,
long walk to the airbus, past several other planes,
courtesy of the biggest, cheapest, most soulless "airline" in europe,
smell of fumes and generators,
makes me think of the lungs of the guys in vis vests with mickey mouse ears,
which makes me think of my father's father,
who died years before I was born,
his lungs torn apart,
confused by the same sort of gunk,
and how this walk is a walk he might have took,
out on tarmac,
when he worked here -
yonks before customers were ever allowed feel wind on faces,
back when they were cherished precious things, not rats in mazes.
And I could feel the old man I never met,
who must've been so perfect,
because my granny still grows giddy at the thought of him,
smiling at her from above (of course),
still deep in love,
and he's walking with me,
and I can smell what love once smelt like to my gran.

RESULT: FAILURE

I'm quick off the mark when it comes to recognising something crap that I do, and I think yesterday's idea was fairly crap, as ideas go.
Reasons blog piracy will never take off:
1. Too much work for your readers, too distracting, when you click into the other blog you get drawn to their far better content, and the comment blog just jars and looks out of place and foolish.
2. It feels rude, being on someone else's blog, and being all about your own thing, it's like walking straight into their sitting room and demanding dinner.
3. You can't have pictures - unless you put a pic up on your own blog and encouraged people to split screen - which would be too much work - see point 1.
4. You can't edit, so those prone to mistakes have to leave em up there forever or have a silly "comment deleted by author" note up there - either way very unsatisfying.
5. Too much work for the blogger, pasting your work over, doing links blah blah blah - life is way too short
6. It would get too irritating, people would eventually block pirate commenters completely, and there's enough irritation in the world.

So normal service resumes: until the next experiment - leaving a long, impassioned, well crafted comment on the subject of a blog post fourteen posts back on the latest blog - to see what the reaction of the blogger is...

Experiment 1 in gorilla blogging

Ok so since I'm rather a wooss really I'm going to do my first experimental gorilla blog on the 2 people's blogs who invited me to do so, so you'll see today's post
in Beedlemama's blog and Quotidian Photography.
(Both on their most recent posts under the comments section)
Please comment on their blogs rather than here if you feel driven to do so...

See ya over there...

The Point

Not about the O2 ... see comments for more.

Lou Reed at the Irish Writer's Centre

My heart skipped a beat too, when I first heard it, until after my uncontrollable shriek of delight and excitement, the person on the other end of the phone clarified - they were actually saying "New Readers at the Irish Writer's Centre" bloody dubland accents...

Longford Man Found

The first question from Mr VC, on the subject of Monday's Glór Session, (as it is now definitely being called, now that my entire readership has failed to come up with anything better, shame on all four of you - the lollipop goes to DQ for effort at least) -Mr VC asked (after having asked how my reading went, and saying he missed me terribly while cruising around the Aran Islands, and luxuriating on various Trá-inna.) - the next first question was - "Was the Longford Guy there?" The infamous, aforementioned Longford guy - well readers, he was. And as an intrepid reporting type blogger who always gets her facts straight for her reading public, I insisted on accosting said Longford Guy and finding out his real name in the public interest, so you can google him, etc - His name was...... Charlie Walker. Isn't that a great name? Anyway, he played his great song, and I will be posting a link to the video of it whenever it comes out.
Other than that, the night consisted of the usual high quality musicians and poets, all blowing your mind in various ways, richly rich with stuff and things.
Orla Martin was genius - with some very very funny songs, and rounding off with a great poem. People were shouting for more, begging to find out when she's back (it's some time in Autumn - definitely not one to miss). Quincy - brought us on an atmospheric journey in a long and winding poem that had every one in a bit of a trance. The legend Eddie - who can be caught there most weeks had a fantastic song about a drinking competition between God and the Devil (I think God won) (should they be in bold do you think? since other people names are? or is giving them caps enough?) (I love that new song about No One Laughing at God by the way - spine tingling whoever it is - check it out on this page if you haven't heard it yet). The Dredded poet was on as well, can't remember his name, (I wouldn't mind but I did have a pen and paper on me, why wouldn't I ever use them) I'd seen him once before there as well. I love the ideas in his poems, eg "Would you Die for Peace" etc, and the confidence with which he reads them. There was another genius on at the very end... again, I'm sorry, I didn't catch his name,,, and I wasn't even drinking, just high on the toasted sandwiches I guess, (yes there were free toasted sangers as well as the lollipops) - but he was one of the best poets I've seen all year, maybe it's just that his poem was the most relateable, but it was just full of simple, gorgeous, moving images from childhood - hope to see him again and I'll let you know his name too, for the moment let's call him School Boy poet.
Stephen James was his usual energetic self, heckling me for even mentioning Cloverfield - saying it was a crap film... And I thought the guy had taste up to that moment, (I mean he even let me read so...) anyway another great night was had by all, (notwithstanding the fact that I won a pint I could not avail of because of driving, yeah there was a raffle as well - there's nothing this night doesn't have, fireworks, indoor swimming pool, heated underflooring in the bathrooms, ok - well there really was a raffle) - as expected, beginning to take it for granted now, that it'll be great - will let you know if it's ever not, I promise.

A Town Called Moira

I was pulled in on the side of the road, (in a town named disconcertingly after my mother), after my 2 hour drive, awaiting my covolunteers - we were to go to a meeting.
They drove smoothly past, altho I was right there, near the curtain shop, where I said I'd be. I pulled out and followed, found them turning the car further up the town, thought surely they'd seen me.... and drove on past pulled in to wait, but no, they'd turned around.
So I drove back down the town, and could not see them anywhere. (repeated this about 5 times, so that the local neighbourhood watchers were out in force). Pulled in and tried to ring, my phone not working, last bit of credit used... In Northern IreLand - another country, lost and alone. The feckeens, they drove on, out the country - towards our customer, altho I had the samples. I bought credit, tried to put it in my phone, it didn't work. A nice girl in the phone credit shop offered me her shiny touch tone phone, it didn't work. Then she put in the number, and finally it rang, and we managed to hook up and not have a total waste of a day, altho I'm still pretty ropey after a late one last night - more on that maybe next time.
So - I found myself a samaritan, and you know I like to think that it made her feel almost as good as it did me, the helpingness, the good deededness of it, so go out and get a stranger to do you a favour now. Try and make it really convincing, look really panicked as you demand a cup of sugar. They'll feel more useful and good about themselves - maybe.