Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Shoo Fly, Don't Bother Me.
So the bad part about staying at luxury resorts for free is that you can get evicted if a real paying customer shows up, which one did, and we did. now we are in some unpronouncable town by the sea.
I am almost at my 50,000 word goal for my second cycle and i'm trying to teach myself shorthand so that I can write quickly on paper because the computer for some reason only charges for 45 minutes without the plug and my mother is so worried about money that we decided not to get two and now we have to go swapping back and forth every 45 minutes which leaves me vulnerable to seeing all sorts of horrible things like what I think might have been my parents having sex in a shower. yes. as nauseating and slippery as you suppose.
I went for a walk today on the beach which was very relaxing. there are mounds and mounds of this strange bubbly kelp and as I strolled I rediscovered the game so popular with children called "I'm gunna stamp on that." I stamped on a host of mussle shells abandoned on the beach and they crackled under my weight. I stepped on some slimy seaweed to see what color it looked like against the sand. I stepped on this kelp which seemed aching to be stepped on, all pustuley and crisping in the hot sun, and it made a very pleasing cluster of pops. Pop pop stamp.
This released a not so pleasing cluster of flies whom apparently i had just destroyed the home of and they flew into my face perhaps unanimously deciding that my nose cavity would be their runnerup restingplace. gross. I ran away from them and stamped and stepped on some stinky piles of rotting seagrass, a fishy feculent miasma wafted towards me and the flies appeared out of nowhere fifty fold, tiny little gnats, very excited about this rotting grassy stuff I had uncovered. They totally went to town on the fermenting greenery and I decided that irish beach flies like booze as much as irish bar flies.
We are leaving for dublin tomorrow and already i am certain that i am not cut out for all this meet and greet stuff- i do not care about the weather here. I do not care about what the weather was like before we arrived after we will leave or on the day that you were born. I do not want to talk about the weather with you, person with a thick accent, because my face hurts when I pretend to smile for too long and that is my only defense against being really rude and staring at you the way i really feel which is with an eye roll and a gaping mouth, a mouth which says "i cannot even conceive of how you manage to not throw yourself off of a cliff having to listen to yourself talk about this bland bland blandiness all day long. At least I can excuse myself to the bathroom. When you excuse yourself to the bathroom you have to go along too. If you were there every time I was trying to get some alone time on the toilet I would punch you in jaw you chattering blathering insincere ninny."
I miss... my own room my own schedule my bed my cat my books my closet my ability to choose who I do an do not shmooze with. I am a little bit cranky because I think i need some alone time to recharge and that time on the road is few and far between. on the lighter side I am reading many excellent things and my stampathon has revitalized the child within me- i plan, in her honor, to spin around in circles, run fast in no particular direction, and catch ladybugs in a jar before we leave. Or at least kill some damn flies. they're even in my room right now eating my delicious strawberries. have they no shame.