WWOOF wwwwoooooooffff

So much to record. It’s been quite the week. I left on Saturday evening from Belfast and flew through London. Got lost in Heathrow…I was supposed to go to Terminal 3, which I kept repeating to myself, Terminal 3 Terminal 3, you’re looking for Terminal 3. And there, the sign as big as can be, Terminal 3 to the right, Terminal 4 straight ahead. Well I promptly walked straight ahead, annoyed even, at some slower passengers and jumped on the bus connection to Terminal 4. After getting off the 15 minute bus ride and walking up several flights of stairs did I come to a monitor with gate information. All of them were British Airways, but I was flying Air New Zealand. What the hell? So as I walked to find an information desk, the thought hit me. You idiot! You are in Terminal 4, you marched straight to Terminal 4 while the whole time you were repeating to yourself Terminal 3, this isn’t the right terminal! Fuck it all. I ran back down all the flights of stairs, and asked someone at the bus door how to get to Terminal 3. “Go back up the flights of stairs, walk around, through the security checkpoint and down the stairs to bus pick for Terminal 3. Seriously? Damn it. Back up the stairs, through security, down the stairs and plop down in the seats to await the bus “arriving shortly sir” I was informed. Moral of the story. Thank god for long layovers. Ah but then. I finally reach Terminal 3, which is like a parking garage stairwell up to the check-in booths. Ah, check-in. Could’ve sworn I did that in Belfast, but had noticed it quite odd that no one so much as looked at my passport nor inquired about it. I showed no form of identification to get from Belfast to London. But here, I have to check in for real. With about 40 minutes until boarding. Well, at this point I am informed after waiting in a long queue for quite some time that Americans are not allowed into New Zealand without proof of departure. Oh really? I was completely unaware of this. After reading requirements for entry to the country, I thought I was golden. I also didn’t expect New Zealand to be stricter than Ireland which is the most xenophobic country ever next to the United States when it comes to immigration policy. Well apparently its third behind New Zealand. So then the process of buying a “for visa purposes” plane ticket out of the country with a totally inept airline personnel I ran to my gate just as boarding was ending. At least I had aisle seats the whole way through.

The first leg of the journey was from London to Hong Kong. I was thoroughly impressed with the on board in flight entertainment. They had a wide selection of movies new and old, they had a wide selection of music that you could even create your own playlist (Like having an iPod in your seat!) and much more. It was great. I watched Top Gun (yes!) then a special on the area of New Zealand I would arrive first. A couple episodes of Planet Earth. I didn’t have to use my iPod or computer the entire time. Which was great. It had also completely slipped my mind that it is common to have free booze on international flights. At least if you’re not flying RyanAir. So, needless to say that was sweet. Although, the one thing I was not very impressed with was the special vegetarian meal I had ordered. It was simply a large plain salad. Come on, you could do so much more. Anyway. Pleasant flight surprisingly. Could have been a lot worse. I also don’t take pills like a a lot of people do for long flights. I didn’t realize this was so common. But, uh, dangerous! I did though, drink a scary amount of coffee. Which, meant by the time I finally arrived in Auckland and then in Christchurch, you could say I had the jitters. I couldn’t keep my hand still. The layover in Hong Kong was fine. Uneventful. The airport is nice in Hong Kong. We had to go through security again though, which was annoying, but fairly smooth so not that bad. The flight from London to Hong Kong was 12 hours. We had a 2 hour wait in Hong Kong and then a 10 hour flight from Hong Kong to Auckland. On that leg, I watched the first two Lord of the Rings movies (to get stoked about awesome New Zealand scenery obviously). When I landed in Auckland, it was really sunny and hot. Humid and summer time/tropical feeling. I was SO happy. I had to transfer terminals again, from international to domestic. Which, instead of a bus was a walk outside. Uhm, awesome. I had a nice leisurely walk, listening to tropical birds sing and finally smelling that smell that will forever keep my mood happy and will to live strong: orange blossom. It’s quite possibly the best smell in the world. Anywho, the flight from Auckland to Christchurch was a short little hop and before I knew it I had collected my bags and was navigating the public transportation system of Christchurch in order to find my hostel. Which I did with apparent ease (how is that possible?) and checked-in, took a rinse shower and then began to run errands, trying to get my cell phone to work, buying a power converter, finding lotion (somehow I could not get anything to physically dry in the whole country of Ireland, yet somehow, my skin dried out. Fantastic) So basic toiletries and so other miscellaneous errands had to be run. I was miraculously not tired whatsoever (lie) and ran around all over my side of Christchurch. Fantastic park right next to the hostel made an awesome evening run right after a cheap but greasy dinner. I went to bed at 9 30 pm that day. Which was just as the sun was setting. Perfect. Woke up at 6 30 the next morning and packed my stuff up and went to the train station.

The train journey I took has been rated the sixth most beautiful train ride in the world. It was pretty amazing, I will admit. However, there were two older middle age people (husband and wife) who were quite possibly the most annoying people on the planet. They were from Cupertino California, I said I had come from Los Angeles, to which the woman replied to her two Kiwi seatmates, “they’re weird down there” And so I quickly turned to my window and didn’t look at them again. Mainly because they proceeded, together, in tandem and tag team fashion, spend the 4.5 hour train ride ranting about how the liberal media is ruining America, how it’s so sad that everyone is getting indoctrinated into liberal extremism in school, how Al Gore just tells plain flat out lies, how great Nascar is, and pretty much every stereotypical conservative viewpoint, interest, or bias. Oh yeah, they ranted about how great Bill O’Reilly and Ann Coulter are. (She’s so witty and no one can argue against her because she’s so smart.) Wow. It was awful, they were the loud boisterous American type that subjected our entire train car to their tirade. It made me cry. Finally I called upon Van Morrison and Steely Dan to shut them up. They also complained about how the younger generations are so lazy and expect free handouts all the time. I don’t think they could have attacked one more thing I could be offended by. It was absolutely awful. I was going to go off on them, seriously, but I thought to myself as I thought up how to express my objections that a) they wouldn’t listen to me one bit and b) I had the maturity and sensitivity to not use this opportunity (like my offenders had) to satisfy my personal desire to trounce these wackies at the expense of my entire train car’s enjoyment of this beautiful ride. No, I tried to concentrate on the kickass gorges, mountains, fields of wildflowers and old mines.

I was then picked up at the station by my first WWOOF host. To distinguish myself and make it easier on my host to find me in the train throng I wore my Nike running hat, and had told her I would be wearing a white ball cap. I obviously wasn’t thinking. Wearing a white Nike hat was the wrong first impression I wanted to make to a major hippie. With curt directions I was told where to put my stuff, where the car was and that (in an annoyed tone0 my host had errands to do in town. That’s ok I cheerfully responded I’d like to run some errands myself. I needed to send some mail, change more currency over and first and foremost get something to eat. Which I did.

After 4 days with this host, I have realized what one of the things I’ll “learn or take away” from this experience (being abroad that is) is dealing with being offended. I was explicitly warned about it in Ireland, that people will offend you but you can’t take it seriously, its part of the Irish humor. So that was ok, I could deal with that, then the moment I stepped into New Zealand, I was floored, almost literally floored with the friendliness and the ubiquity of the friendliness in this country. But I got stuck to shit-hole Californians on the train and offended offended offended. And now, this first host, is the first person I’ve met in New Zealand who is not in anyway, friendly. In fact, she’s downright offensive and derisive in her tone and behavior toward pretty much everyone. Although, I’ve learned more about her and I know where it’s coming from, but I am most assuredly being taught how to deal with constantly being offended…well, it just is a bit wearisome, but I’m holding up well. I am not letting it get to me I don’t think. Perhaps because being by myself I don’t really have any room or space to be actually indignant. And probably more specifically, anyone to be indignant to, except the transgressor, which when it’s the person feeding you, its not quite prudent to bite her hand. Indeed.

So anyway, my host’s home is in a National Park and the house is on a hill that spread down below it a large biodynamic garden. The hill opens out onto the ocean and so, let’s just say it’s probably one of the most beautiful views ever. Like really. New Zealand’s flora in this area reminds me of Jurassic Park. The palms and tree, green and stony bluffs makes me feel like I’m walking through prehistoric jungles. It’s pretty freaking sweet. Although, my accommodations, hah. Get this.

I flew halfway across the world and traded my cold rainy windy stone shack with no toilet, or electricity really, or heat, for, drum roll…..a hot sunny, tin and plywood 5 foot by 6 foot shack with no toilet (the forest is the pee spot (sound familiar)) and no electricity. In fact, I’m still sleeping in my sleeping bag. But guess what…Sean is happy because its WARM! The composting dry toilet is a little more sophisticated than our bucket but pretty much everything else is the same. Well, save for the fact that my meals are made for me and aren’t out of a can or Brian frying eggs. Although, those eggs were fantastic. So yeah. Not much has changed. Except for my daily activities and my surroundings. There is one other WWOOFER who has been here a week already and is a 19 year old student from Skidmore College. He’s cool and it’s been a lifesaver that he’s here and figured out our hosts already for me. He also is providing my way out for moving on to the next WWOOF host. We are ditching out on Monday. But, since he’s been here working so hard for a week, we got yesterday off as a vacation, completely off. Which was great. We hiked up a local river having missed the actual trailhead but had an amazing time nonetheless. We found a sweet ass boulder with a deep crystal clear pool swirling around it. Needless to say we decided we needed to climb it and dive off into this perfect swimming/diving spot. Beautiful sunshine and beautiful freezing cold river. But awesome. Also, a wild goat chased us. We think maybe we were in its territory, but it actually charged us whilst we were on the boulder. We had to dive in and swim to the other side to escape it. It was quite comical. We had a wonderful day off. Supposedly it rains 2 out of 3 days on the West Coast (where I currently am) which I did not know until I got out here. Seemed like a bad decision on my part since I was also trying to escape the rain. But, as if its an act of God, it has not rained since I arrived in the country. (bad for the garden, good for this gardener) So I think fortune is smiling upon me and I am really grateful. It’s been a wonderful experience so far and I’m only 4 days in. I think I’ll be heading south next, or perhaps north to wine country. Not sure, wherever, I end up, it will be awesome I’m sure. Also, I’m eager to hitchhike which apparently is like hitchhiking in America in the 50s or something, like, when it was really safe, easy and fun. That’s the word on the street from everyone I’ve talked to. I seriously can’t get over how friendly people are here. I haven’t been able to have one short interchange with a stranger since I arrived. Everyone engages me in at least a 5 minute (not exaggerating) conversation at checkouts, counters, the bank teller. Everywhere, its awesome. But I feel bad about holding up lines, but I’ve been told that its just part of Kiwi culture and not to worry. I like it. It fits me well, since I’m not normally that friendly on my own. Its great to have an entire people bring it out in you. It certainly has made me feel at home and like this was the best decision I’ve made in a long time. In a word, I guess you could say that I’m happy. And interestingly enough, not having a hard time “being on my own” which I’m sure is due to the nice weather and nice people. I think also because I was so ready to launch out on my own from the get go. So things are going well. Except that my poor Irish skin just burnt like forgotten toast. Where did my California skin go? Damn it. I’ll be trying to repair that in the coming days…

PS. Sorry this hugmongously large entry isn’t funny or anything. I guess so much has happened I just tried to get it all down without really embellishing. A lot of stuff happens that I just keep thinking, I’ll need to relay this experience in person. Because, well, I just do. So this is sort of like cataloging so I don’t forget anything, but will trigger my memories when I need to ramble on and on about my adventures in “Godland” New Zealand, really is amazing guys. Oh, and a system I think we should adopt in the States…it’s like kegs but on a smaller scale. For recycling type purposes and perhaps others you can take 2 liter plastic bottles to the pubs and fill them up with beer. Isn’t that wonderful? They are called “riggers”. We need this. It’s great. Which reminds me, this entry is not done.

This is mainly for my father, but last night I was taken to this crazy little shack where they broadcast a local independent radio show. Its these aging hipsters who drink wine and smoke pot and play all this crazy old American music and like Westerner themed music and pretty much are awesomely hilarious. Well last night, they had a “Thanksgiving night” (a week late right, well that’s the Kiwis) and they alternated between Monty Python songs like “Eric the Half a Bee” and “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” and Jimmy Buffett. I was in heaven. Isn’t that just perfect? Well. Yes, yes it is.

What is my life?

So I'm in Kiwi Country, aka New Zealand now. After 24 hours of flying I am suprisingly not jetlagged. perhaps because it was an entire day. and well, I landed in New Zealand and it was sunny and warm. phew I'm back home. I also am looking at my hands right now and they are pukey pale. like awful. Which, by the way, I read an article in Scientific American about the positive effects of sun exposure. The sun scare with skin cancer has actually driven the majority of the Northern Hemisphere (well really just US and Europe) into a Vitamin D deficiency which is causing all sorts of health risks. Moderate, non-sun screened exposure to the sun is good for you (duh because thats what was planned by nature) So, I'm not wearing sunscreen. And I'm going in the sun.

so far I like new zealand. people are really friendly and helpful and are really the first people who have been genuinely enthused about my nationality (the irish sort of were, but in a racist way that sort of lost its charm and the eastern europeans weren't enthused whatsoever, to understate things a bit)...

not that i blame any of them. what is this shit going on with Iran? are you serious? and wanting to revamp our nuclear arsenal? yeah, that's where I'd choose to spend billions more dollars that we DONT have. sigh.

So yeah, i'm back in shorts and a tshirt, which is much better for me than long underwear and a hooded sweatshirt, sleeves full of snot. Although, my whole skin died right before leaving Ireland and now I'm a scaly lizard. Don't know how Ireland dried my skin out...the physics of the country are simply mind boggling. I've also dealt with the whole traveling alone thing pretty well so far. i guess we'll see how it goes after a couple of days not traveling. Whilst traveling, I just sort of get into game mode, where like, shit needs to get done, like figuring out where to catch the bus, and then riding the bus. I had a complete brain malfunction in Heathrow, repeating to myself almost outloud that I needed to go to Terminal 4 before proceeding to walk straight past the Terminal 4 bus and getting on the Terminal 3 bus, for absolutely NO reason. I didn't realize I had not meant to go 3 until I had walked around the terminal and realized it was only British Airways there...thank god for the long layover.

anyway, i'm here I'm ok. I'm working on getting contact stuff up besides internet, but oh well. Tomorrow morning I'm taking the 6th most beautiful train journey in the world...(ranked by whom I still don't know) and I'll try to post again soon, once I'm settled on the West Coast and not Christchurch. Happy no longer winter.

Bob LoBlaw's Law Blog

It would seem that almost every jackoff has a blog. But it does make me quite happy. Some people are really good at 'blogging' and really, they're are quite entertaining to read. I'm glad I can keep up with all my friends through blogs. wave of the future yadda yadda.

not sure where I'm going with that.

it rained again today and I wanted to jump off a bridge. actually, I didn't mind so much. I stayed in bed for a long time today. stop judging me. i was really comfy.

I went with a friend to run errands and walked into a PC World. Hah. It was so funny how struck I was. I walked around bug eyed just marveling in the gadgets gadgety gadgetry. How long I've been away from all that crap and how sleek and gadgety it all looks! oh and bought some guacamole. i don't suggest trying a dip made almost exclusively from a fruit that doesn't grow in 1000+ miles from where you are. it sucked. but made me happy nonetheless. It's been a while since I've had chips and guacamole, or as they say in Ireland, crisps. I even had chili and lime chips, now we're talking. It reminded me of eating Tostitos Hint of Lime by the bagfuls and the summer I became an alcoholic...was it Jeff who perceptively stated "Hint of Lime? More like Hurricane of Lime" my memory doesn't count for anything, it could have been my dog who said that I can't quite remember. Sigh, Mexican food.

Although, I must say, I've had the strangest feeling as though my sojourn in Eastern Europe was actually a sojourn in the United States...not necessarily because the geography is eerily similar to the midwest and some parts of the eastern west, haha, you know where I'm talking about? I did feel like driving through the Plain states with some forest sprinkled here and there. Anyway, beside the point. I somehow coming back to Buncrana after having been away feel as though I went home...or rather that the length of time I've spent outside the States doesn't seem quite so vast anymore. Weird? maybe, or it was all just make believe. I think my brain might be slightly broken. Or it could be this all bread diet with a splash of Guinness that I've been living on since returning. Oh, I guess I lied. I had some chips and guac. I have been trying to remember some of my early experiences here and they seem so long ago. Did four months really go by so quickly? Apparently. Sometimes I feel like there is a conspiracy, somewhere, 'out there'. conspiring.

I still haven't gotten over graduating college. I can already tell this is going to turn into a shit I can't recall the word, pathos, pathology, pathogen...none of the above. damn it. It's going to be a problem for the rest of life in an unhealthy way. That's what I mean. Well shucks.

I am going to go walk home in the cold, by myself, to my cold and empty shack and I'm going to lie down in my cold bed, by myself and do something or maybe nothing. poor poor me. poor me. hahahah. save it. see ya round.

oh, as a final thought. i am really happy that sort of without knowing it in the beginning I named this blog exactly what it should be named. And I'm really happy about it.

Enough turd posts?

So it hasn't rained for two days. That means I'm on cloud nine. It is amazing to see how interconnected my mood and emotions are with the weather. I know I've mentioned it before and I know that it's exacerbated because I haven't a home to shut out the weather but still. I think I've accumulated enough evidence to argue for a permanent home in LA.

Also, I will put a poll at the bottom of this page asking all of you if you'd like me to continue with the blog after I leave Ireland. I am toying with the idea and am not sure what to do. Your input will help. It might not be as depressing after I leave (haha) but I can almost guarantee adventure and interesting stories. So yeah?

It's amazing how quickly this final time will fly. I am almost already gone. But its sort of bittersweet because I just got back and yesterday I was walking around town just enjoying being back and seeing all the people I haven't seen in so long. With the end come all the final thoughts and oddly enough, I'd say, perhaps more from other people than from myself. I don't really feel the need to talk about the end. That's what the few weeks after the end can be for or something.

I have some worries however that the house won't survive. I've tried very hard to get it to a point where I can basically simply maintain most of the work we've done to it so it can be picked up at a later date and pushed further along. But, those thoughts lead to future thoughts, and the whole point of this first year out of college was NO future thoughts or plans or whatnot, and yet I find myself already planning the next 3-4 years out. Well, ferk that. I guess I just can't avoid it. And now, that stupid Into the Wild movie keeps creeping into my thoughts whenever I entertain those type motifs.

I did think of this yesterday though that brings a smile to my face. Maybe it's just me, but, haha, before a year has passed since graduating I will have literally, yes, literally, circled the globe. Haha, what a thought. Certainly, not what I had planned. It's amazing what the mere thought of warmth and sunshine can do to my mood, even though I'm still sick, it gets dark at 5pm (which means I go to bed at around 6pm) and I now no longer cease to see my breath. Oh and also! I took another outdoor shower yesterday. I didn't think I'd make it this far...November 15th, that's pretty late in the year to be taking outdoor showers with groundwater. maybe that's why I'm still sick....nahhh. It's been staying out here that gave me the superb immune system I had before a 10 day drinking binge while confined to a shit Ford Fiesta with a disease bag (Crosby, ahem) that finally broke it. Eastern Europe was fascinating. by the way.

Fascinating mainly because, well it seems to be the general consensus, but speaking only for myself, Behind the Iron Curtain was not really the realm of any primary education, and, as I chose a rather esoteric college course of study and practically mundane course of study (pre-med) I never came across it there. And to think, my dear Elliot, a Russian major. Ok, I take that back, I briefly encountered Eastern European/Russian issues in my final course at Pomona, Religion and the Environment, mainly through the book Blood and Oil by I believe Michael Klare, let me check...yes, I was right. In this book, I learned about the struggles to secure oil deposits by the Soviet Union. But besides that. I knew nothing about Czech and Slovak Republics, very little about Germany (besides a lot of the literary and philosophical figures and WWII stuff), nothing about Hungary and to be very honest, I would not have been able to locate Poland on a map...Now, after pouring over maps after map while driving through the Slovak countryside, or through the Tatra mountains on the Czech and Polish border and circling around the labyrinth of Bratislavan streets, or yuckin' it up with Lithuanians in Budapest, I can now confidently locate almost any Eastern European country on a map and probably could tell you a little bit about it, except for the southern Eastern European countries....which I've been told should be saved for summer. I know nothing about Moldova and didn't know Macedonia was a modern day country apart from it's Biblical land claims. Sigh, we can all now admit how extremely lacking our primary education in the States is...and that was back in the 90s when it was half-way decent! Hah. I still will never forget being absolutely mortified in college taking my first class on Islam (Sufism: Islamic Mysticism) and being shocked when we began to study a prominent Sufi from...gasp! Spain. Spain? Now that doesn't make any sense, until it was painfully explained to me that the Islamic Empire, the Fertile Crescent, was actually a crescent of land that stretched from Spain all the way to Southeast Asia. Doh! The moors of Spain...the spanish architecture....well, thank you primary education you sufficiently blocked out oh say half the globe in my education on 'civilizations'. But to be fair, we only had 12 years.

I'm rereading the Golden Bowl (it finally came in from library exchange, from some place in Gweedore (really rural)) by Henry James. I had to read this my first year in college for my Modernism: London and Berlin course. Well, I was so taken with it and thought I understood the author's tone and the interplay between characters so well, I wrote furiously about it only to have it torn to shreds by the head of the department, Miss Else Lasker-Schuler herself. No, that was just the writer she had taken to emulating this year. So frustrating, that course. But I wanted to reread it to see if after another 3 1/2 years I still had those convictions. I still love the book, and have a sneaking suspicion I still had an accurate analysis. What was the point of this..? I had a point. Oh. that's it. So, in the Golden Bowl there is a character who is American, but travels all over and most of her social circle (as we can gather from the book) is not American, but there is an interesting point brought up that rang true for me now... let's see if I can find it.

well after a damn long search I found it, and it turns out its not quite as clear of any sort of point as I thought, but I'm struck by it regardless:

This character is struck by the type of day it is in London as she is walking around with an Italian. She feels strongly about the 'weather-washed English type' day it is.

"So far as this was the case the impression of course could only be lost on a mere vague Italian; it was one of those for which you had to be, blessedly, an American--as indeed you had to be, blessedly, American for all sorts of things: so long as you hadn't, blessedly or not, to remain in America."

Take from it what you will.

What else is there? I'm afraid my life can be quite boring and normal when I'm not in a flurry of unnecessary distress. I could tell stories from our adventure, but let's be honest, those are best told in person or at least over the phone. Some things you just can't write, unless it's in a novel form. Which. I'm not going to do now. Sorry.

I am extremely excited to begin training again. As part of this year of no plans, part of it included taking a huge break from running (which I more or less did whilst here). But. Enough is enough. I can't wait to get back into it, especially in warmer weather. I surprisingly haven't filled out more. But I can tell I'm horribly out of shape. It is a good sign for the future (or that my metabolism hasn't quite slowed down yet...). Four months of pretty much no exercise with the onslaught of winter normally resulting in a bulking up. Nope, still got it. Although I did notice on pair of pants felt a bit tighter. Wow, what an alarm bell that sent ringing. There is some primal fear, I believe, in men, who view themselves as aging in gaining weight, or at least girth.

On that note, I'm going to go finish my loaf of bread breakfast.

Better

Well, I'm doing much better. Perhaps its because the rain stopped. The sky is still ominously grey and unyielding. But, I've moved out of my bed and started working on the house again, in small steps. With such little time left, there isn't much I can really do. I am glad to be back but I am also glad to be leaving again. I think it's clear that it is time to move on and do something new. And really, let's be honest. I just can't wait for warmth and sunshine again. It was actually that singular thought that improved my mood drastically last night. Things aren't so bad, regardless of what my mind tells itself about this project etc etc etc.

Being alone is sometimes really dangerous. Haha. Ah well. More later I suppose.

Mixed Mash, Muck. yup.

So much.

So I am back in Buncrana after a 10 day tour de force in Eastern Europe. It was fantastic. Crosby Brian and I went to rock the Continent and we ended up getting rocked. No big surprise. But let's just say, hitting Berlin, Dresden, Prague, Bratislava, Budapest, and Krakow in 10 days is pretty impressive. Dresden was interesting but small. Prague, was beautiful but touristy, Bratislava was desolate but a labyrinth, Budapest Crosby got decked in the face and Krakow was cold but pretty darn cool.

I'm not sure how I can recount the entire vacation. So many funny, so many crazy, so many just well things. Perhaps over the next few days I'll try to recall them all.

Actually, everything right now is a little crazy and I've had some time to reflect upon it all but haven't been in the mood to record any of it. I have a cold and I'm guessing that's the main reason I haven't had the energy to write. It's cold back here in Buncrana. We had beautiful weather pretty much the whole trip in Eastern Europe, chilly, but sunny and bright and no rain really and just impressive. But now I'm back to the slightly more moderate temperature but depressing omnipresent clouds and wind that mimicks animals poking around my shambles of a house. The sky constantly threatens rain.

Apparently the sequel to Once a Runner is now available through the Publisher "Breakaway Books" but I'm a little sketched out considering the previous year of speculation and rumors about release etc. If it's not available on Amazon.com, I won't believe it's available anywhere. Anyway, Runner's World had an excerpt from the book which is promising...but also completely disappointing. Skeptical that Once a Runner could possibly be matched even by it's own author, my cynical attitude was validated by this excerpt. Reading it, it read like Parker's prose, but in his attempt to remind us of the original novel by recalling various details and picking up the story, HE GOT ONE OF HIS OWN DETAILS WRONG. I noticed this right away, cried out in pain and then double checked with my copy as soon as I got home. I was indeed correct. Parker had confused one of the details between the first and second books. Now, I may be a fanatic, and he may have had 1000 times more things to occupy his attention in regards to this new book, but come on! I noticed it on the first read over. Certainly, his knowledge of the book and story should be greater than mine? Anyway, for those who are fans of the book. To clarify, if you happen to read either the excerpt or the new Book. The nickname Quintus Cassidamius, was NOT given to Cassidy by one of his teammates. He claims he made it up himself in OAR. C'mon Parker. It's important to the development of his character that he made it up himself. Sigh. Anyway.

We met some awesome Spaniards on our journey. More on them later.

My worries over the border crossing back into Ireland have been allayed. At immigration. I was granted another month of legal residence in Ireland. Phew.

I am awaiting my last visitor and my subsequent plane flight out of here. I am moving on, but not going home. Which, I have mixed feelings about. But like I said, I'm a little too under the weather to sort out right now. I need to write it all out first and then post it here as opposed to trying to compose on the fly, comme ca.

My last night in Dublin, I went to the movies with a few friends. We saw Into the Wild, the new movie directed by Sean Penn, with Emile Hirsch and based off Krakouer (sp?)'s book about the true story of Chris McCandless from West Virginia. I was initially worried that this movie would be about a guy just like me, who does something similar to me but way more badass and cooler and better at it etc... That was not something I wanted to see. But I have not read the novel, and I read an article about the movie in Outside magazine which totally intrigued me. It seemed like a compelling story, something I was quite interested in and would love to see/read. Brian had certain misgivings about Krakouer and so I thought, perfect. I'll see the movie. Plus, the article seemed to praise Penn's meticulous attention to detail and intentions of "Staying true to the story" especially considering the amount of drama and conflict went into the production of the film with the McCandless family. I thought, this could be a good one.

Well I saw it. and was at first, thoroughly disappointed. which then, slowly developed into anger. Needless to say, it got me all worked up about a lot of issues wrapped up in my own story that had previously stayed subdued for a damn good reason. So, the movie ignited 3 months worth of bottled up self conflict (and you thought it was coming out in this blog? hah.) and well, my opinions on the movie, its flaws, issues, style, implied meanings, and how it relates to me and my story will all come out a bit later, again, once I've sorted it all out. Grr. Bluck.

Needless to say. I wish I had more discipline. Talk to you later.

Thoughts on the Road in October

Monday October 29, 2007

Riding the bus back down to Dublin. The light fades over the hills and hedges that make up the Irish landscape. Anticipating a hectic early morning I let myself begin to fade with the light. Intermittently cracking an eye to see the rows of heads swaying in unison. It’s the end of a bank holiday and the roads are busy. The bus is full of travelers, mostly students returning to campus.

This weekend has been reminiscent of those in college, however, my life isn’t quite as put together as it was back in Claremont, and so the toll of three day benders is greater. I must remind myself also, that I’m living in a small town again. The freedom of anonymity and lack of responsibility for drunken behavior is no longer a buffer against reputation. Damn.

In addition, we had guests. And we didn’t get nearly as much accomplished with the house as both Brian and I were hoping. Brian however, is no longer “under the gun” to get miscellaneous projects around the house completed as this bus ride is the last he’ll see of Inishowen for quite some time. Here on out, I’m on my own. So with those things weighing on my hungover shoulders I feel anxious. Crosby arrived on Saturday and I spent the day trying to recover from my first night without Brian and in the company of local friends. Playing frogger with the bus system to somehow navigate my way to Belfast left little energy for anything else. Excited to see Crosby, I thought only of getting us back to Buncrana. But it’s been nice. Crosby’s foreignness by comparison makes me feel quite local and again, proud of “my” community. It’s these scarce moments that lift the background of anxiety and worry. The difference is so subtle but strong. It’s like wearing sunglasses, only noticing the difference when they are lifted. It’s refreshing to say the least.

So here we all are. On the bus after a drunken weekend, about to embark on a week and a half of who knows what. Certainly, standing on the brink of the unknown. We have plane reservations and car reservations and that’s it. No language skills, no maps, no plans. Plenty of audacity. Aren’t we surprised.

It’s a strange feeling knowing I’ll be coming back alone. It seems to a certain extent to have already hit. Brian’s attitude has definitely been one of resignation to the end. He’s already departed. And Crosby, never really was signed on for Inishowen or the house, his mind resides solely in this trip to Eastern Europe. Whereas, while I’m looking forward (quite eagerly) to this break, I think the vast unknown of Eastern Europe eludes even my ability to mythologize it. Perhaps, it’s simply a lack of interest, or has been put on the back burner? Perhaps, this notion of leaving and being left is attracting all my attention. The future seems just too amorphous to begin to draw lines around.

Being left. Hmm.

I like the thought, even though it does fill me with that creeping dread of some unknown danger. But one I know will be diffused. Buncrana is home enough now. And I can look upon my return with excitement. That is if I survive driving in Eastern Europe, something about which I am extremely excited. I am craving to drive again. In a way, since this trip required that I buy a ticket out of Ireland for good, I too, have begun to leave. My mind often runs to thoughts of New Zealand and my next step, a part of my future easily filled with dreams, lines, plans, form. And so being stuck here straddling two diverging rivers I find myself nervous and anxious. Anything but settled.

Sorry

Regular entries will recommence the 11 of November.