Mike, St. Patrick, and Haley: The Top 5s

(Casey, one of the girls in the Community Arts program in Dublin, decided to catch me at a lower moment with this photo-op. Seeing that it's one of the only St. Patrick's Day photos I have on my computer at the moment, I have decided to share it. More will come, mind you. For now, you'll have to be satisfied with me wearing a ten-year-old's guitar and a primordial dwarf's leprechaun hat... why I didn't just say "a leprechaun's leprechaun hat", even I am unsure of).

Top 5 Things About Spring Break With Mike Plantan:

1. Golfing In Howth -- For economic reasons, we decided to do the 12-hole short-course (or as we referred to it, The Not As Manly Course... we might have been a bit more derogatory. Boys will be boys.), but the view was incredible, a few pars were sunk, and the afternoon was relaxed. I had a rough first go of it teeing off, but eventually found my stroke and worked my way to a very admirable sister-kisser -- er -- tie (Mike might take that expression a bit too literally: he has never hidden his plans to wed Pegeen and offically be made a Lamb). The tie was fine by me, seeing that, realistically, it was the best-case scenario for me when golfing with Mike. We had to ration our golf-ball output, which proved to be more difficult than anticipated because we were both drinking relatively large bottles of Slice throughout the afternoon, if you catch my drift. My personal highlight was losing a ball into some heavily-thorny bramble (which referred to as "The Devil's Nether-Regions"... again I might be using a euphemism), and not only was I able to locate it, but battled against the branches and enured a lifetime's worth of splinters in order to successfully achieve it.  In the clubhouse after, we enjoyed a pint and some better than average bar food, and it was the most content in our seven years of friendship I had ever seen the fella. It looked a little something like this. Hiking the trails afterward was just gravy, and, as we know, I don't use that term lightly. 
2. Celebrating International Women's Appreciation Day at Gogarty's: Mike really brings out the best in me, as does live music. When you put the two together, it tends to be a near-lethal combination. When Mike took me out for my birthday, the night ended with me sitting in the bathtub with my feet over the sides (balance is incredibly undervalued, in my opinion), waking up my entire family in the process (I vaguely remember Pegeen screaming "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!?"). The week before I left for Dublin, he and Daisy Donohue had gotten me up onstage at the piano bar under the misconception that I was leaving for 'Iceland', which, of course, we played up to no end. A worthy member to be included in this trilogy was International Women's Appreciation Day, which landed on March 8th this year. I gave him a tour of a couple places in Temple Bar while we killed time for the music to start, eventually meeting up with Olga, Amy and Dianne (three of the other six playwrights), who didn't mind being appreciated with a couple pints (to their credit, they deserve it). I kept up my tradition of Irish stepdancing, and was asked to "learn" some Spanish girls who wanted to be shown how it's done (absolutely the last thing that I needed was a vote of confidence). The gang also did their part, apparently well enough for Mike to overhear an Irishman say to his wife, "Jaysus. Michael Flatley would be shittin' himself." The night concluded with a sing-along back at our place, with me playing until my fingers bled (which only took, like, two songs, since I cut my finger open mid-song -- and still had the stage-presence to finish. Terry Westerman would have been proud). I guess it goes to show that when women feel appreciated, the world seems to run a little smoother... Too bad we have to wait a whole 'nother year before that happens again! (Kidding, of course: I can see my mom's face as she reads that, which warranted a disclaimer. Granted, I also saw my dad's disapproving laughter, which is why it wasn't altogether erased: that's sort of an insight into the moral conflict I have to wrestle with daily. Now you know my Hamletian struggle).  Anyway, great day. 
3. Seeing Tom Stoppard's "The Real Thing" at the Gate Theatre: First show at the Gate, and I enjoyed it very much. We were the younger than the median age by a good forty years, I think, which was interesting. He's a smart playwright, that Tom Stoppard, which had to've made it a stretch to write a play about the tribulations of a smart playwright. It is always nice to have the question posed, "Isn't love wonderful?", and he does it well enough to have it not necessarily be rhetorical. So there's my sixty seconds of pretentiousness. Anyway, I liked it.
4. The Jameson Distillery Tour -- Based on the pre-tour cheesy informational video, you would have thought John Jameson was a decorated war hero or something, judging by "how brave" he was to distill his whiskey three times instead of two. One of my favorite moments was Jameson's cat, who used to catch mice around the distillery and was honored by the family when it died by being stuffed and put on display. Honsestly, on the list of top-five creepiest things I've ever seen, it's definitely an Honorable Mention. Mike was chosen to taste-test between Jameson, Jack Daniels, and Johnny Walker. After "correctly" choosing Jameson as his favorite (he lied), he was presented a certificate stating that he was a capable whiskey-tester. Since I am not able to be at Mike's graduation in May, I treated the ceremony as though he was being handed his diploma, bursting into an abrupt round of applause. A few people even joined in, not even knowing why. Needless to say, I was very proud. 
5. The Dublin Writer's Museum -- We decided that, for me, the phrase "Dublin Writer's Museum" was the equivalent to the phrase "Candy Chocolate Pancakes". 

Honorable Mentions: 

• Charlie II Chinese Food -- Mike for some reason placed this run-of-the-mill fast food Chinese restaurant on his list of things to do. Turns out, it was a run-of-the-mill fast food Chinese restaurant. So my question is, if you receive exactly what was advertised, regardless of personal expectations, do you still have the right to be disappointed? (I've asked my now-ex-girlfriend this very question, by the way). 
• Rooftop conversations -- Turns out, on top of being a great guy to be around, Mike's also a great guy (Take that, Benilde-St. Margaret's school newspaper, which published an article labeling him "Crap Date Mike", after Stephanie Geerdes went home from the winter formal less-than-satisfied). 
• Lunch for breakfast, dessert for lunch... dinner for dinner. I know what you're thinking, and yes, we are that crazy. Would I do it again? I don't know. Am I glad that I tried it? Absolutely. 

Top 5 Things About St. Patrick's Day in Dublin:

1. The Parade -- Bands, floats, music... All of the plusses of the Thanksgiving parade but of a more intimate size and much, much warmer. What a great way to spend the morning / early afternoon. 
2. Barbeque at Tommy Graham's -- Tommy grilled up some chicken, sang us an "abridged" epic tune (maybe 5-10 minute) a capella, and disappeared to the pub before we could say goodbye. His kids, 10 and 7-year old twins, were chips off the old block, (Tommy's oldest played "The House of the Rising Sun" on his guitar -- because it was the only one he could remember all the way through) and his wife was an incredibly nice hostess. Other families were there as well, and made for a great atmosphere. Erin joined the eight-year-olds on the trampoline, Jake and I butchered half of modern music on the guitar while trying to lead a sing-along... it was just too good.
3. The Pint of Guinness you somehow manage to get in the overstuffed pubs: I told myself I had to have at least one on the day. Turns out it's pretty much the same, except less elbow room and more elbows while trying to get it. I guess that mad it all the more rewarding. 
4. The unfortunate state of affairs crowding the streets around 2 AM -- Take the dramatic hilarity of the worst college party ("No! Nnnnno, Jaasssson! Jaasssonn I'm surrrrrrrry. I'm surrrrrrrrrrrry, Jassssson, I'm jus-- my feet hurrrt...."), multiply it by fifty, add about nine other countries represented ("No! Nnnoo, Juuuuuuuanita! Juuaaaanita, lo ssssssiento!"), and then force them out onto the streets. Some of the best people-watching I have ever experienced. 
5. The pride of being Irish -- Self-explanatory. 

Honorable Mention:

• The big dumb oversized felt leprechaun hats that were selling like hot-cakes. Okay, it's one thing to be wearing them in celebration of the day in a party situation. I'm all about that. It would be the times where I would walk by an Indian restaurant and see a guy sitting by himself and absentmindedly poking at his chicken tikimasala with a depressed look on his face that made me want to knock on the window and say, "You need to take that hat off, right now, or no one is going to want to be friends with you." I refrained, but the guilt haunts me. 

Top Five Things About The Long Weekend With Haley:

1. Seeing the World Premiere of Sam Shepard's play "Ages of the Moon".  -- Easily, the best use of of a ceiling fan as a character that I've ever seen. Two-man show with Steven Rea and Sean McGinley, kind of like a middle-aged True West, except instead of smashing typewriters they just sit on the porch and drink whiskey. Been looking forward to it all semester, and it didn't disappoint. We saw Sam again, by the way (not peeing this time) taking a cigarette break outside of a pub... at 10 in the morning.  
2. The Dublin City Zoo -- THEY HAD A TAPIR! I had grown fond of tapirs because of the one at the Minnesota Zoo. (Haley did an amazing job at recreating them). I had yet to see another, and Dublin had three of them. The Tanning Orangutans and Gorillas also put on a good show, and the day itself was the warmest of the week. You have to walk through Phoenix Park to get to the zoo, which was lovely enough for Haley to dub it "like Idaho". In fact, almost every beautiful place that we saw, it was compared in passing to her hometown of Boise. We even saw Idaho's state bird, state flower, and governor on the trip, now that I think of it. Since all I really know about Idaho is Larry Craig and Napoleon Dynamite, you can see why I might be a little skeptical. But if any of you can't manage the flight to the Emerald Isle and you're looking to get away, consider it Plan B. 
3. Sitting on the rocks looking out at Galway Bay -- "Picturesque" would be a suitable way to describe it. Of course, when I pulled out my camera, the batteries were dead. Haley created an artistic rendering of it, however, so you all could get the picture. We decided to spontaneously hop an early bus to the west on Saturday, forging the 3-hour ride to spend the afternoon along the beach.  We ate dinner at an Italian red-and-white-tablecloth-type place called "Fat Freddies" and listened to the roar of the rugby fans as Ireland cemented it's grand-slam victory (meaning that it went undefeated in its five-game season, apparently a great rarity). We killed time waiting for the late bus back in a hotel lobby that sort of reminded me of somewhere, I can't quite put my finger on it. This made me miss New York, since wandering into hotel lobbies like we had business being there was one of Haley and my most popular pastimes. (Side note, don't try to change the lyrics to "Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay", even to make the applicable parody "Sittin' On Some Rocks By The Bay", because this girl loves her some Otis Redding).
4. Cutthroat Scrabble Wars -- A significant cluster of dinosaur bones were found this week in Montana. On an equal plane of discovery, I found a Scrabble board in my room. Haley, get this, had never played Scrabble. Apparently too busy counting all of the flying pigs clouding up the Idaho sky. After walloping, and I mean walloping, her the first two times, she managed to squeeze out a victory in the final round. I wonder if she's coping with a standing record of 1-2, since, as I've been told on several occasions, Hepworths don't lose. Consider the Fates defied. 
5. Styling Haley's hair -- What can I say? I have a gift. I don't want to say that I've found a fallback, should this whole writing thing not work out... but okay, you've twisted my arm. I have nearly mastered the Aileen Wuornos look but, like a fine wine or trying to renew your driver's license, these things take time. 

Honorable Mentions:

• Sitting in on Michael West's rehearsal -- It was great to see my playwriting professor work on developing his new play, and especially fun since his wife is the director. The two are part of the theatre company The Corn Exchange, which develops and performs plays for The Dublin Theatre Festival. The process, in a nutshell, is that Michael makes an outline for the play, Annie (his wife, who actually went to NYU) guides rehearsals with the actors (who are allowed to experiment based on what they know of their characters and the basic plot), by calling out different styles, side-coaching, and even playing a small drum set that sits in front of her. Then Michael takes what's been done in rehearsals and goes off to write the play, and two months later they stage it to be performed in October. It was really a treat to see your teacher at work, and I think Haley (an acting major in the David Mamet-founded Atlantic Theatre Company studio) enjoyed it just as much. Michael, of course, asked Haley how much I was paying her to hang around me for the week. The heckling never ends.
• Creating my alter-egos -- My favorite of which is "The Bovine Helix", the persona (created from consecutive Scrabble words) that I would use should I ever go into professional wrestling. The costume is a cow with bionic qualities (which Haley is designing) that best executes my killer wrestling moves, such as "The Cow-Tow", "Hoof-in-Mouth", and "Udder Insanity". Other personas include Jerry La d'Racula, a Vampire who, instead of seeking out victims, decides to spend his evenings honing his craft as a standup comedian (I'm tapping into my role of Sven Ghouli from the Pleasant Avenue Players as inspiration). Obviously, he is terrible, relying on his catchphrase "I mean, Vaaaaaaat is the Deeeeeeal?" to transition him from joke-to-joke. We're thinking of developing it into a one-man show, working title: "Vamp". This sort of came into fruition when I yelled "You Suck!" to a cheesy Vampire in the St. Patrick's Day Parade... The final one is Scatman, a talented Jazz singer who has never quite made it to the top because of his irregular bowel movements.  As you can see, on top of having a fun week, we were also very productive. 
• Late-night pizza by the Liffey -- We had put off dinner for, admittedly, too long. When it came time, I kept talking up all of these great places, only to have them close as we arrived up to them. What had to have been the last remaining place open in the city was Apache pizza, and even there they were only selling slices through the express-window (of which we snagged the last two slices... score?). It actually turned out to be great: I got to show her O'Connell Street and all of its historic landmarks (thank you, Tommy Graham), and sitting at the river turned out to be just what the doctor ordered. I mean, it was no Idaho, but...
• Our steady diet of blue mints, pocketed tea packets, and Cadbury chocolate. Like I said, sometimes mealtimes fluctuated. I will, however, say that there was not a time throughout the entire week that we were deprived of any of these three elements. I know I don't need to say this, but when Haley left on Sunday, there was certainly a noticeable absence... she had taken the last of the blue mints. 

Katie and Tim are headed to the airport in less than 30 hours from now. I believe a trip to the Guinness Factory is on the docket for Friday afternoon, Then they're off to do their own thing while I head to the Aran Islands on a field-trip overnight. We reconvene back in Ol' Dubs for a couple days before they fly home next week. Then London. Then Kathleen / Easter. Then Chelsea in Seville. Then Chelsea here. Then May. Then parents. Then home. Now that doesn't sound so bad, does it? All I'm wondering now is who's going to write the rest of my play. These are not the worst dilemmas to have, I suppose. Spring has certainly sprung in my state of mind: Everything's looking like Idaho.

Until next time,

D

PS -- Follow me on Twitter, if you're so inclined. They'll be more frequent, more stream-of-conscious, and might help some of you blog addicts coughGrandmaKaycough as you wait for me to do more things, so I don't have to keep making them up and then saying that my camera was dead. XO

A little something while I cram in some studying:

Hi Everybody,

March has indeed been Madness (My bracket is terrible by the way: apparently Western Kentucky decided not to be the Cinderella story I had fabricated for them. Kathleen, my apologies about your office pool). Finishing two papers this week that I had put off to enjoy all the fun I've been having. I will post a much longer update by the end of the week, I promise. Until then, I have two very exciting PREMIERES to wet your appetite!!

First, a couple teaser moments from my Bernie Madoff play. 

It all takes place over the last night in his house (March 9th, 2009). The second scene is an imagined one in Bernie's mind, remembering his meeting with his client William Foxton, who later shot himself after losing everything. It's bookended by snippets of a lengthy conversation he has with his hired security guard -- saying whatever he wants to fight off the feeling of his own looming mortality. It's hard to play to all audiences that read this, so my apologies if this is a little racy: either way, it's what I'm doing and it's been kind of fun to write such a demonic character -- it's almost a catharsis for knowing that he actually exists. 

.........................................................................................................

MADOFF

Do you ever have one of those moments where you wonder, if you could do it all again, what you would change?

GUARD ONE

I suppose so. Every once in a while. 

MADOFF

And?

GUARD ONE

Oh, I don’t know. I might traveled a little more. Wrote a book. 

MADOFF

 I think I would have eaten more pork.  

Pause.

GUARD ONE

Please don’t be finished.

MADOFF

Life is too short to be Kosher. 

GUARD ONE

Well, I don't know what's holding you back. By all means, live a little. 

MADOFF

Hey, don’t get cute.

GUARD ONE

I’m not being cute. I think it’s safe to say that you’re a terrible Jew. I mean, if Moses had seen you back in Egypt, sitting on top of the largest and most literal of pyramid schemes, selling Rameses on your sham of a hedge fund, I'd bet that Exodus might currently read: “Let my people go, except that one. That one can stay.”

MADOFF

Just because I’m talking to you doesn’t mean you have the right to an opinion. I’d be having this conversation with the ottoman if you weren’t here. You got that?  “A terrible Jew”... You know, another guy was labeled a terrible Jew, if I remember correctly. His name was Jesus Christ.

......................................................................................

MADOFF

If a guy marries his high-school sweetheart, and then fifty years later finds himself fantasizing about the first time that they ever made love, does that make him a pervert or just nostalgic?

GUARD ONE

Are you asking me?

MADOFF

I don’t know... You got a wife?

GUARD ONE

Me? No.

MADOFF

You gay or something?

GUARD ONE

As a matter of fact.

MADOFF

Is that right? I guess that’s a good enough excuse... Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but you don’t look gay, at all... I can usually call these things, I’ve got a very good eye for it. You, I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years... So, you got a buddy?

GUARD ONE

What?

MADOFF

You know, like a fella?

GUARD ONE

Oh, no.

MADOFF

You’re more of a party guy?

GUARD ONE

I’m reading Dickens. For fun.

MADOFF

A gay guy reading Dickens. There’s a joke there somewhere... You wouldn’t happen to have five dollars on you, would ya?

GUARD ONE

You’re not serious.

MADOFF

Why wouldn’t I be?

GUARD ONE

What are you going to do with five dollars?

MADOFF

Turn it into six dollars.

GUARD ONE

I'm done with this. I’m not paid to entertain you.

MADOFF

Who’s asking you to? It’s clear to me that I’m the entertainment around here. Look, here’s my proposal: you give me five dollars. We wait for ten seconds. I promise you that you will have made another dollar in that time. Take it from me, that's an incredible return. 

GUARD ONE

You don’t have any money!

MADOFF

I always have money, it’s just not always my own. 

GUARD ONE

You’re out of your mind.

MADOFF

Old habits die hard... You haven't said 'no', by the way. 

............................................................................

Bernie takes a long sip of water. He flips through a book on the coffee table as though it were a financial portfolio. 

MADOFF

I’ve found honesty to be the best policy, Bill, so I’m just going to cut to the chase and say that we’re not interested in the amount that you are offering. Thanks for coming in. 

FOXTON

I don’t understand... You said it had potential on the phone. 

MADOFF

Oh, your account has potential, that we could have been interested in. Your offer, however, is, simply put, too low.  

FOXTON

Too low? 

MADOFF

We mostly deal with a seven figure minimum, which, if I recall correctly, you were not interested in. And as much as I don’t understand that, Bill, I accept it. I just can’t do anything with it. We don't need the smaller stuff. 

FOXTON

Seven figures would be my entire life’s savings.

MADOFF

I see that, Bill. Your file tells me that. I am reading your file. What I’m not understanding is, given what you know about what I am able to do, given that you are already willing to place the majority of your savings into this firm... do you see where I’m going, Bill? 

FOXTON

Look, I trust you, Mr. Madoff, and I appreciate you coming out here to see me -- 

MADOFF

It’s a seven-hour plane ride to London, you realize that.

FOXTON

Of course... This is my nest egg. It’s all we have. So you have to understand why I would want to keep some of it out of the equation, should something go wrong.  

MADOFF

I’m sorry, should something go wrong? 

FOXTON

Should the market turn, should we lose it -- 

MADOFF

Okay. Okay, thank you. Thanks for coming in, Bill. Thanks for coming in, and wasting my time.

FOXTON

No, wait -- 

MADOFF

Should something go wrong? You’ve seen the figures. I beat the market. I always beat the market. Hell, I’m running the market Bill! 

FOXTON

If you could just help me understand --  

MADOFF

No, time’s up. I’m sorry, but this is a waste of time. Your investment is too small, I have nothing to work with. Thank you for coming in.

FOXTON

Please, if you could maybe explain to me again, one more time, how this all works -- 

MADOFF

'How this works'? 

FOXTON

How you are able to run the market, I mean.  

MADOFF

How this works. Well, in a nutshell... I can’t believe I’m doing this again... In a nutshell, Bill, Mr. Foxton, what we have done is arranged a system of computers that can predict fluctuations and make transactions through a system of puts and calls, faster than any man-operated business. You following me? Now, other firms are afraid to do this, and they’re suffering because of it. You know why? Because the computers will make the decisions that human beings are too afraid to make. There is no hesitation, there is no second-guessing, it is completely and entirely computational. When you take the human being out of the equation, Bill, you solve your regulatory problems. It’s that simple... Now what I have outlined for you, what we have spoken about over the phone, what I have flown across the ocean in the hopes of making you realize is that this is the chance of a lifetime. You’ve got your nest egg, and that’s wonderful. But I’m making you a fuckin’ omelette, Bill, pardon my French. You’re a veteran, I’m sure you’ve spoken a bit of French, on occasion... Bill, what I’m saying is, I know what I’m doing. Very important people are living much happier lives, because of me. And if you want in, you’ve got to make an investment that I find worthy of including... I will do what I do well, to your benefit. All you’ve gotta do is pull the trigger. 

Madoff extends his hand. Foxton breathes deeply, shakes it. 

MADOFF

Do you love your wife, Mr. Foxton? 

FOXTON

Of course. 

MADOFF

Then this is the second-best decision you’ve ever made. 

.....................................................................

GUARD ONE

Are you scared?

MADOFF

Am I scared, is that what you asked? Scared of what? 

GUARD ONE

Dying.

MADOFF

Are you kidding? ... I picture Hell being a lot like Florida: a little warm, full of old pricks like me... Politically fucked, a few too many Cubans, but an unbeatable view, you know, in the afternoons? And great golf. 

GUARD ONE

I have a feeling you might be disappointed. 

MADOFF

No. No, in truth I’m a realist. There’s nothing after this. It’s like that Lennon song... John Lennon, now there was a fraud.  

GUARD ONE

All right, I could take my Lord and Savior, but I draw the line at John Lennon. 

MADOFF

Oh, fuck the Beatles. “Yeah, I’m the Walrus too”, who gives a shit? 

GUARD ONE

I need a cigarette.

MADOFF

Yeah, and I need 65 billion dollars. Life is tough shit sometimes. 

.................................................................

So there's a few pages, from here and there. It's still very much a work-in-progress (I'm only done with the first act, the first draft is due in a couple weeks), so any feedback, articles, tidbits, etc. would be more than appreciated. It's been a fun challenge to write hypothetical history, particularly as it is unfolding in real-time. To incorporate the real elements that you learn while still making it an enjoyable play to watch is a balance that is definitely making me a better playwright (though, while working through it, "better" isn't always "good"). Anyway, it's fun to share what I'm writing -- obviously, otherwise I'd probably be studying for the wrong thing. So thanks for reading. 

Okay, so if I haven't scared you off yet, here's the link to the regrettably wonderful music video that I was a part of. I willingly am giving myself a death sentence with this one, but since you guys have for some reason taken an interest in what I'm doing, I can only be fair and hold up my side of the bargain. Also, most of you have seen me hump a tree, so it's only a half-step down from that. Acting as though I have shame is only a formality for our more prudent readers. 

This group of us is talking about making more comedic videos in the future, so that would be great. See? I totally did this for a reason...

Look forward to a lengthy update regarding visits from Mike, Haley, and St. Patrick (and maybe even Katie and Tim, since they get in this week)! Until then, Happy Spring! 

Dylan

Catchin' Up: Belfast, Paris, Arson and Sam Shepard

Hello again lovely people, it's been way too long. Apparently the clowns over here running this "college" program wanted us to eventually do some "schoolwork", so I've been a little tied up. I know, I'm angry too.

So, to get us all back on track, here's some of the basics:

• I'm in Ireland

• I saw my first genuine DeLorean at the Transport Museum in Belfast. 

• I just performed in another music video... dressed in drag. I'll post it when it's online, but I warn you to watch at your own risk (though I got several complements on my eyeliner). 

• I have had awkward exchanges with both playwrights Brian Friel and Sam Shepard, the former was in Belfast after seeing his play (he looked a little something like this), the latter was in a restaurant in Dublin on his way to use the restroom (since I could faintly hear one of my idols urinating, I probably looked something like this). I tried to slip him my script underneath the stall, but I think it actually ended up as toilet paper. 

• I WENT TO PARIS, Which I think constitutes a Top 5: 

1. The Chocolate Cake at the Centre de Pompedu. I know, you're all like "Say what? Cake!? That stuff's all over the place!" Oh no. This was the greatest thing I have ever eaten in my life. We went for dessert one night to the restaurant looking over the city. It was the highlight of the best food weekend of my life: escargot, beef you cut like butter, banana flombe' crepes... the list goes on. Wow. I think I need a moment. 
2. The Louvre, and the park adjacent to it. On Saturday, it was so warm we actually got a little color on our faces -- something I wasn't expecting for another four months or so. We took a leisurely walk through the park, taking in the day. The museum itself is massive: you could spend a week in there. We did the Chris Lee version, however, and got the essentials: The Mona Lisa, Napoleon Crossing The Alps, some Italian sculpture... just enough to wet our whistle for when we come back (which I definitely hope to, if only for that cake). 
3. Biking! We got to see a lot of the city, and it was a great way to get around. 
4. The Eiffel Tower at night. Okay, so the forty thirteen-year-old girls around me in the elevator up reminded me how I had reached the lowest rung of tourism, but the view was unbeatable.
5. Our hotel room... Okay, maybe not. our sheets were the same fabric as the curtains. It was quite... matching? 

Honorable Mentions: 

• Phillipe, the mouse who ran across our feet in a restaurant, 
  
• Notre Dame 
  
• The view from Mountmartre and the Church de Sacre-Coeur 
  
• Did I say the chocolate cake?
  

I also found that you can survive in Paris on four phrases:

Bonjour -  French 101. You've really got to sell it, though. 

Merci - The most overused word of the weekend. 

Pardon - Works as both an apology (mainly for being American), to get someone's attention, and to get people out of your way on the Metro or on bicycle. 

Delicieux - Okay, I lied, this was the most overused word. To complement the food, and the women, as one French waiter demonstrated on Erin, to great success.

... And everything else can be sounded out, pointed at, or butchered without your knowledge. There you go, you're ready. Book your flight. 

On an exciting note, I wanted to extend my CONGRATULATIONS to my cousin Ryan and his new fiancee Sari! I saw the pictures, and it looked like quite the proposal halfway down a slope while snowboarding in Utah. I thought it would've been appropriate had the ring been a Triple Black Diamond, but subtlety is key and the goal was achieved. And Ryan, just because it's your wedding doesn't mean we're not going to clear the dance floor at the reception. 

Mike Plantan is currently on a flight over here for the week, he arrives at 8 in the morning. It's my spring break this week so we're looking to explore a little bit. He sent me a list of three demands: 

One, that we go golfing somewhere on the Emerald Isle. We're thinking of this place back near Howth, which is great so I can visit my Selkie girlfriend.

Two, is to tour the Jameson factory, something I've been meaning to do anyway. You know, for educational purposes. 

And Three, see a castle of some sort. I've fallen for this before with Mike: it usually ends with him trying to convince me that he was a king in a past life and me making terrible puns like "Serf's up" or something along those lines.

... Beyond that, the world is our oyster. 

We met one of the hunger strikers in my history class this week. He was a former IRA prisoner who didn't eat for 70 days, and didn't bathe for nearly two years. In other words, he went to college.

I couldn't completely focus on what he was saying, however, because he had my uncle Robert's face. Like, it was him. I couldn't get over it. My aunt Kathleen told me that someone at my grandpa's funeral had said that when all of the male Lamb cousins stood together we looked like a bunch of IRA thugs looking to do some damage. I guess he wasn't too far off.

It was a good week for entertainment as well: saw the movie version of the Irish play Disco Pigs by Enda Walsh, and it blew me away. It's like a really messed-up Romeo & Juliet, so if you're into something a little on the fringier side it's very powerful. Cillian Murphy is in it and is as disturbed as ever. But very good. Also saw the movie "Hunger" to go along with our section on the hunger strike. A gruesome bit of Irish history, but it's well made. 

Also saw the play "Woman and Scarecrow" by Marina Carr. Definitely my favorite play of hers, and probably the best play I've seen since I've been here. I could totally see Pegeen knocking it out of the park. 

For those of you who haven't yet heard, my roommates and I had a bizarre / frightening arson attack on our room about three weeks ago. Someone had put a cloth doused in lighter fluid over our doorknob and had written things in chalk on our door like "Take Some Rest", among other drugged-out scribblings. Not the greatest thing to wake up to at 4:30 in the morning. Dublin, to its credit, has a noticeable heroin problem (not crippling or distracting, just noticeable), and the place we were in wasn't the most protected from some of their favorite hangout spots. We're pretty positive it wasn't anyone we knew, and the main suspect coincidentally moved out of the building the next day. Still didn't stop me from sleeping with a fire extinguisher, though. 

Anyway, the Garda here are the equivalent to the Keystone Cops, so we're not expecting much more out of them. However, we were moved into a newer, much safer, much more swanky loft apartment, so we are now reaping the benefits of having a potential lawsuit go overlooked. 

The best part of the whole night was calling one of the heads of the program here, scared out of our minds, telling her what happened. Her advice? "Take some rest, and we'll talk about it in the morning." It would've been a great joke, had it been a joke. 

Momma's birthday is on Monday, so my thoughts are being sent her way this week. I got a great picture of two dolls that resembled my parents, which were part of the Titanic exhibit in Belfast (you know, for a boat that sank, they sure boast about building it!). Here's a picture of it:

 

along with a few others on Flickr. 

Other than that, I'm just plugging away on my play (Poppa Lee's going to love it, I think): It's about Bernie Madoff's last night under house arrest before he goes to jail, and he's visited (a la "A Christmas Carol") by some of his victims, Carlo Ponzi (of "Ponzi scheme" fame), and maybe even his favorite musician Neil Diamond, all the while trying to plead his case to a pair of security guards that despite what he's done his life has still amounted to good, sucking them in like a Hannibal Lecter or a Richard III. It's basically two hours of the Devil incarnate playing his own advocate. It should be very fun to write, and it has been fascinating to continue to learn more and more about.  

Thanks everyone for the emails and the updates. I will try to keep up more frequently but, as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder -- and I need all the help I can get!

XO

D