Friday, November 24, 2006

Book Luck

To pick a random book off my shelf, one of his, and to read it and for it to be a pleasure, is a true pleasure to me.

All the sweeter as it is free. Miss Wyoming is the fifth Douglas Coupland book I've been absorbed in (Generation X, Girlfriend in a Coma, Polaroids from the Dead and Microsurfs being the others in chronological order in which they were read).

There's something about Coupland's style, I'm not sure whether it is the luminous capture of the spirit of today or his curious stream of conscious linking of seamingly random moments into a lucid tale, that appeals deeply to me. In particular Miss Wyoming connected me to a story and a world, and while I recall thinking briefly that Girlfriend in a Coma was probably one of the best books I had read, tonight, as Miss Wyoming drove into the sunset, I had a similar feeling.

And then I put that thought away, remembering all the other gems I've recently read - Philip Roth, MJ Hyland, Iréne Nemirovsky, Coetzee - and am brought back to a bold quote I read in the Observer magazine a few weeks ago from Nina Bawden, writer of Carrie's War, who said:

'People who don't read seem to me mysterious. I don't know how they think or learn about other people. Novels are a very important part of our education.'

In this time of great darkness, when I despair at every turn about the injustices and clawback of human rights that are happening during the spell that my generation are coming to the fore, I admire the brave sentiment contained within her quote. Suddenly things are clearer. If you don't read, you mightn't learn, and if you don't learn then you can't be expected to know or understand about the relationship between yourself and other people. The responsibility is ended for compassion.

I can't end the wrongs, I bury my head in a book, maybe someday there will be an answer, meanwhile I'll enjoy the story and learn.


Thursday, November 23, 2006

contraversial theory regarding my head

Is my head a seismograph or am I just going mad. Actually that's not what I meant to say at all.

I think I might be able to sense thunder or just bad vibes using the power of my head.

This afternoon I had a terrible headache, and suddenly the juju in the room was pretty awful for about two nurofen or a half an hour. Then it returned to its usual purile state.

Likewise, when I worked in Bray under the shadow of the Sugar Loaf, I distinctly remember two ocassions when I had a headache and suddently there was thunder and lightening.

Or maybe I'm going batty and the headaches are a symptom of my malaise.

Who knows.

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Random items of musing

Phantom FM is tops. I'm so delighted that it's back and all proper-stylie, and gone are the Ray D'Arcy / Ian Dempsey filled traffic jams of my past, good morning Dublin, thank God for the music.

I love doing my show on Annalivia fm, and would recommend the station to anyone wanting to work in community radio, and I love being a volunteer, you get great freedom to create your own show. Though, you have to admit that it would be fantastic to get paid someday for blarbling, opining and playing decent music, so maybe some day da boyz n ghouls from Phantom will come knocking on my door... a gal can dream, sigh.

And on the subject of Phantom, they brought the website 'mydeathspace' to my attention. It's so strange, and yet I suppose it was only a matter of time before someone did something with the sites of people who've passed away. It's very voyeristic, and compelling in a really sinister way. At the same time though, isn't this an extension of the place that obituaries have played in the world since newspapers started running them? And even gravestones. They are a marker, a reminder of who someone was. Still though, I'm conflicted by the whole thing.

I'm off to Donegal for a hearty weekend of gardening and chilling out, I'm really looking forward to leaving the city for a few days. I can't wait to walk down by the beach, and I know that when I'm strolling, the daydreaming will start and I'll be planning a spring break after Christmas. Last year we went for a week in March or April, and it was fantastic taking three hour walks around the coast and past fields filled with little lambs. If I can swing it, I'm going for longer this year. Maybe I'll have a laptop, and maybe I'll finish the first draft of my book.

Aw, the curse of being a city slicker and being a general nuisance to the people of whatever county you terrorise with your notions of fresh air, turf and toast cooked on the collapsing range.

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