Holy Shit! I'm Getting Married

So... this happened:

Capt, are you crying!  There's no crying in piracy?

For the three people in the world that are surprised by this (Mad Jack and I have been dating for nearly 4 years, planning our wedding for 6, and have had people tell us we're doomed to marital bliss since before our relationship was legal in the state of New Jersey), I will tell you what went down.

First engagement happened in Wild Wood crest, which is now a sandy puddle.  Mad Jack had just found out he had been accepted to his Masters in Ireland, we had approximately a month to move to a new country, and he was trying to figure out housing.  In a gelato place one day, while I was figuring out apartments in Galway, he looks up and says, "Hey, in case it makes it easier, I'm going to tell housing that you're my fiancee.  Is that okay?"

I kinda looked at him like 'dude, who gives a fuck?' and 'aww, we're psuedo-engaged, now' and I said, "Yes, I'll marry you."

He then protested that this was not a proposal and I insisted that I would tell our children only of this moment and forget whatever else he did as a means of defense against the warm and fuzzies threatening to revive the black pit that is my soul.

Mad Jack took this as a challenge to come up with the most romantic and warmest and fuzziest way to propose ever.

There has been weeks of deception leading up to this.  For example, three weeks ago:

"Hey, capt, what's a good Rufus song for a guy to play to like get with a chick?"

"There's is none.  Rufus Wainwright sings only of unrequited love."

"Come on, It's for [name I register but don't recognize nor feel any compassion towards.]"

"Who?"

"The little guy who should be gay, but is straight with the really hard abs that we all molested at the bar that one time."

"Aww!  That guy!"

"He wants something like sophisticated to sing to this girl he wants to impress."

"He should use 'Pretty Things'.  That's my favorite song.  He should also be gay... it's just weird."

And this:

"Hey capt, I think we should go to the Cliffs of Mohr next weekend."

I remember that a short while ago I said to Mad Jack, ' if you are going to propose to me for real i'd be nice if you could do it before I leave to go back to the states.'  Followed by the thought, 'that sneaky bitch, thinking I don't know he wants to take me out there somewhere beautiful and ask me in public.  Ha I'll show him.'

"Naw, it'll be cold and rainy."

"So you really don't wanna go?"

And I think, 'why spoil it?' so I say, "I'll wear my poncho!"

Somewhere along the way there was a sneaky question about public proposals, slipped into by watching a comic sketch with a public proposal... but that's fuzzy in my head.

Anyways,  Mad Jack is slick, as you all probably know.

On Nov. 2, the fresher play at NUIG was having it's last night and I went.  The play was "Laramie Project" which as Mad Jack says, "is a comedy about a small Wyoming town's reaction to a gay man beaten and taken miles from town and left  for 18 hours to die."  (This is where you all laugh uncomfortably and say, 'yeah, poor Matthew Shepard.  Poor dead Matthew Shepard.)

After this tear-fest makes every person in the room cry until they're dehydrated, the director comes down and says a few words about the play. 

"'The Laramie Project' is really a play about love."

And I'm thinking, 'oh fuck, more warm fuzzy talk.'

And the director says, "So to celebrate this Mad Jack would like to ask Capt. Bloody Thom come down."

And because I'm a snarky shit, I thought, I'd just sit there and refuse to do anything, but I was sitting next to his director from another play and began to realize that all his friends were behind me where they had wedged themselves after intermission and that everyone in the room had known this was happening.  So I figured I'd oblige him.

Either that or I was already crying and on my way.  You know, take your pick.

At this point, "Pretty Things" by Rufus Wainwright stared playing and I was either thinking 'Mad Jack you bastard you tricked me again' or 'Oh my God, I love him' and probably didn't meant Rufus.

Thistle: the national flower of Scotland!

All the girls in the cast began handing me roses and lilies and Mad Jack comes up to be with thistles, which looks peculiar and off next to all the other flowers, but distinctly beautiful.

The flowers at home

He said nice things about me.  The only ones I remember was that I was smarter than him (which is only kinda of true) and that he had always loved me (which I know is true).  I realized it was nothing that I didn't hear from him at least once a week, and that having such an affectionate and articulate fella constantly telling me why he loved me makes me pretty damned lucky.

He talked about how it only made sense to propose in a theater because we met in the theater and began to bring up the Iago/Richard III argument.  I slapped him and he went back to business, got on one knee, and gave me this:

It's a Claddagh ring and it has symbolism that isn't little children dying in mines or daughter selling.

So I did the right thing and let him save face in front off all his friends and said 'yes'.  It was the best moment of my life, so far.  Which says a lot because my life is filled with God-Damned Awesomeness.

I almost found out three times that day.

First, Mad Jack lost his plastic money in the morning (in his defense out roommate who belongs in a sitcom had pocketed it because it looked like his) and my first thought was to check the pockets of his coat... where the ring was kept in an inside pocket.  The slick bastard pretended to be angry at me for thinking he wasn't bright enough to check the pockets of his coat, then put his coat on and checked the other pockets.

Second, during the sound check for the show, I was sitting in the back with Mad Jack's laptop typing for Nanowrimo (I'm at 20886 words, bitches!).  Rason/Jussel, our friend the schizophrenic Jew, rushes over to me and insists I come with him to the college bar to get a pizza.  Like frantically, which really is just like Rason/Jussel so I go with him and avoid hearing "Pretty Things" cued up as the finale.

Third, everyone I knew in Ireland was asking me in the weeks before what day I was going to see Laramie...and they were all there on the same night.  At least twice that evening, I came up to a group of friends and met with that weird hush where you know they were talking about you and now they have nothing to say.  I always assume that it's a coincidence and they just ran out of conversation as I arrived, because I try not to be paranoid and think everyone is talking about me all the time.  If I had been a little more aware/ suspicious/ gave a shit, I certainly would have put together why they all wanted to sit by me.

In the end though, it happened, it was beautiful, and not a single person I have told has been surprised. We all knew this was supposed to happen.

Look more pictures!

Forgetting Halloween, Irish forum fights, Imaginary Dance Parties, and Chalk-Candy Adults

So my Halloween prep has kind of been thrown to the curb this year.  Normally, with the ghost tour and working for peanuts (and occasionally donuts) at O.C. Rep usually keeps me pretty much in the loop of Halloween. So this year, in the country that fricken' started Halloween, I forgot all about it. No dressing up.  No parties.  I haven't even gorged on the cheap candy yet. I  forgot about trick-or-treaters.

So here's my Halloween prep in a nutshell.

Beginning of October:

Mad Jack: I can't wait for Halloween this year!  We're gonna hand out candy to all the kids and it will be good candy.  None of that chalky crap.

Capt: Doesn't Laramie Project go up over Halloween?

Mad Jack: Nooooo! The only delight I can bring children outside of the summer has been snatched from me by the hands of cruel, cruel fate!  What will sustain me!  How will I live! (I may have embellished that reaction...)

About a week ago:

See Misery.  The stage adaptation of Stephen King's book.  Die of boredom because for Christ's Sake if you're going to adapt a movie into a stage play, don't attack it from a Realism perceptive.  THE MOVIE WILL WIN.

About five days ago:

While grocery shopping

Voice in my head one: I should get Halloween candy for all the adorable kids in the neighborhood.

Voice 2: Yeah, but not that crappy stuff.

Voice 1: Yeah.  Like Twix and Skittles and shit.

2: Oh yeah.  Sounds good.  Chocolate covered cookie thing and candy-coated um...skittle stuff.

*reaches for bag*

Voice 3: Wait!  It will never last.  You and Mad Jack will eat that shit like it's the day after Halloween and your six.  Wait until it gets closer.

Voice 1 and 2: Oh... okay.

Voice 3: Now go buy some healthy carrots to snack on.

Voice 1 and 2 grumble.

Yesterday:

Random friend: Hey Halloween party tomorrow?

Mad Jack: I can't go.  I'm in a play.

Random Friend: Oh, which one?

Mad Jack: Laramie Project.  It's a comedy about this gay guy in Wyoming who gets beaten and is left to die tied to a fence.

Random Friend:...

Capt.: It's not going very well.  I'm going to stay at home and pass out candy to the kids!  It's my first time and I'm so excited to bring delight and happiness to demanding children.  I won't feel awkward at all! ( my excitement may be embellished.)

Today, Halloween, around 3 am:

Capt: shit!  I forgot to buy candy for the kids.  Oh well, I can do it tomorrow.  Hey Mad Jack.  It's about time you got home.  How was the show.

*Mad Jack begins to cry and throws himself on the bed, trembling with frustration.*

Capt: There there.  There there... Call your Dad.  He's comforting.

Today, Halloween, around 1 pm

Mad Jack: I don't wanna get up.

Capt: Me neither.

Today, Halloween, around 2 pm:

Capt: Alright, time to start my day because I'm a lazy sack o'shit.  I have to go to the store and get candy... but first, let me check my e-mail, as if something special awaits!  Oh, an e-mail from the Irish board of naturalization   My hand-written letter has been received.  I will receive further correspondence by post.  That makes no sense, but ok...  Oh, facebook.  Hurricane Sandy, that sucks...  Hocus Pocus links... *gasp* I have to watch Hocus Pocus.

*watches Hocus Pocus...*

Today, Halloween, around 4 pm

Capt: Salty Meg is on facebook!

*talks to Salty Meg.  Here are the highlights*

Capt: I can't believe Wildwood is underwater and OC has Sharks, and AC is being cleaned and I'm in Ireland where I cannot make a bathrub into a watercraft and pilot through the buildings. God-Damnit.

Salty: Fucking Herrocain. Halloween has been cancled to a later date. :(

Capt: Nature has stopped Halloween! That's worse than that one time when Halloween stopped Christmas.. that year was pretty bad ass.  I better go get some kid’s candy soon…

*goes on irish forum to see where trick-or-treating is in Galway.  About five minutes llater*

Capt: So I’m having a fight with an irish person in a forum.

Salty: OMG lol.  What about?

Capt: I asked when trick-or-treating was and he got all angry and said it's called Halloweening. “Since when are we American?” And he goes on about Americanizing Irish and loss of language.  And I’m like: “Sorry dude, I'm an American. When is Halloweening?”  Now people are coming to my defense about it not being ever called halloweening in their lifetimes and someone described a sex act called Halloweening.

Salty: omgtellmewhatthe sexact is. (excitement here is embellished by lack of spacebar function on Salty’s machine...)

Capt: Halloweening involves butterfingers and blowjobs.  The giver eats the butterfinger and then… blows?  That makes much more sense with peanut butter and chocolate than a candy bar…  Uhoh… Urban Dictionary just got involved and…. It’s gross but funny and I’m not putting it on my blog because my mother occasionally reads this.

Salty: Both gross and funny.

Capt: Just the same I think I better go and fetch some candy in case I get kiddies

*But I don’t… I keep talking to Salty, because she’s more fun than a sack of wet children dressed like Spiderman princesses.*

Capt: When I’m giving out candy, I’m telling them my costume is a dead American writer, who is passing out candy and is still living.  I then plan on meticulously explaining to every child who comes to the door also saying that I am going to kill myself on Nov. 16th. That way when I go home to America I can traumatize all the youngsters in my neighborhood.

Salty Meg:  YES!!!!!!!!

Capt: When they ask Mad Jack where I am, he’ll say, “she went home.”  not knowing what the kids think.  Therefore they will tell Mad Jack he’s in denial and I am dead.  And I’ll come bck on April Fools and say to everyone, “Mwahahaha.  Best trick ever!”

*more talk on the hurricane and boyfriends and other friendly issues.*

Salty: And that's why I am housing a musical Halloween party in my brain.  To salvage this holiday.

Capt:  *Dances in Devin's head* what my imaginary company at your imaginary dance party isn't good enough. Whoot whoot!

*discos*

Fuck it. I'm in your head *Begins to tango with a rose in her mouth, swirling around an invisible Lane and then flying into the air on a cloud of glitter*

Salty:YES!!!

Capt: Wait where did all these cats come from. Oh no! I'm being carried away by Devin's brain cats! AHHHHH!

Salty: Croudserfing Captain!!!  aretheyfuzzyenoughfor you?

Capt: No. they are skeleton cats and they are eating my hair! My lovely braids!  I need to find a way out of Devin's head before that get to my toes! Which of course are magical and will cause the cats to explode.

Salty: use the exit door.

Capt: Well, I just feel dumb now. *I exit through your ear drum.  And now I'm growing to me regular size and I'm sitting in the Starbucks next to you.*

Salty: That would be awesome.

Capt: Seriously. I like wish I had the magic to make that happen. It'd be awesome... though the consequences for you are terrifying.  The government alone would do horrible things to your brain to figure out how to use it and Facebook as a travelling device.

About 4:30

Capt: Hold on, Meg.  Someone is knocking at me- SHIT!  I have trick of treaters... Shit monkies!  All I have is crappy adult chalk candy, which is sweet and tastes like cloves and is delicious, but will ultimate disappoint children who do not have the same advanced palate that adults do. SHIT!  I’m THAT ADULT. NOOOOOOOOO…

About 4:32

Capt: By, now.  Happy Halloween kids.  Shit!  I refuse to be that adult!  The angry man on the forum said it started at six... That gives me an hour and a half to get the best candy I can.  To the Batmobile- oh wait, we left that in the U.S.  To my sneakers.

So I walk to the college (half-hour walk remember) and I book it and I get plastic money from Mad Jack (because he's the treasurer, you see and Capt. can not be trusted with money) and I go to the bank, and I book it to the grocery store and I buy awesome candy, Twixes and Skittles, and Starbusts.  Four bags for  7 euro; it's like being a pirate again.  And I book it home.

And it's not 7:43 and I have a shit-ton of candy.

Not a single kid has shown up.

I blame twitter.  The earlier kids were the spies, sent ahead to case the neighborhood and then using modern technology those little bastards told the world that I was a chalk-candy adult.  Damn those children for not appreciating the effort I put into getting them candy! Damn them!

On the plus side... shit ton of great candy.

Jason and the Argonauts (grown-ass men playing with dolls)

Not in the show.

So I meant to update this website a lot more and review all the shows I saw in Ireland.  It's been on a to do list and this is the first one where I left and said, Holy Shit.  I need to tell everyone about this.

It's a show that reminded me of what I want to be when I grow up.


Jason and the Argonauts

Actors: Simon Donaldson & Tim Settle



Yeah, just two men, doing a Greek EPIC all by themselves.  Just two clowns and dolls...


Go here for real pictures.  Auguste is the one in suspenders and Whiteface is the one in a vest with red hair http://www.visiblefictions.co.uk/


BEST SHOW EVER.   This blew me out of the water.  This is exactly the kind of theater that I live to see.  The story was great, the two actors (only two) told the entire in an incredibly funny way.  It was just the best thing I ever saw.

And it was basically two grown-ass men playing with dolls in front of a wagon.

It started with one guy, we'll call him White face, running onto the stage after a really long wait, as if he had forgotten.  He informed us he was going to tell us the story all by himself, and began it very seriously.  This is interrupted by a second man, we'll call him Auguste, who comes in and says "who are they.  What are you doing?  You didn't tell me we had a show tonight."  Auguste then proceeded to screw with Whiteface's version of the story by mixing it with the opening of Star wars and spider man (including once when he was twirling a rope around and hit himself in the eye with his web-shooter).

Together these two told the story, switching between the characters.  For example, the story begins with them as the two kings (Jason' father and Peleus) and they had a sword fight, with sticks! Whiteface is the dad and Auguste, suddenly very serious is Peleus and wins.  At the end of this very dramatic fight, with dialogue to let the kids know who the baddie is and what not, Whiteface rises from the dead and is like, wasn't that scary?

When they introduced Jason, they introduced the concept of using dolls to represent the Argonauts.  Literally Ken dolls (including several jokes about Barbie and how she was not coming).  I guess they didn't like that one chick.... the really fast one who was an Argonaut.  Hera was also portrayed very positively in this (she was the main goddess and not Athene).  But back to dolls (spider man was one of them, but Auguste was trying to work him in and Whiteface wouldn't let him).  It was ingenious and very funny.  I think the kids really related and enjoyed that part as well.  They would make the dolls mimic their gestures and when Heracules was introduced with ... I think a Thing doll, Auguste adopted his posture which was great.

Speaking of physicality, this show was tops!  Though they changed who they portrayed (without ever changing costume), it was never confusing who was who because of the dialogue.  Medea was Medea because of the way she held her hand and swayed no matter which of the men were playing her.  At one point of time, they cycled through being a harpy and being a blind man beset by the harpy, switching back and forth which added to the sense of confusion and helplessness of the blind man.  Towards the end, the created a dragon by making one of those air socks (long and green) and attacking a fan like a drum over the august's shoulder so that the waving air sock was his tail. Whiteface attacks it with his sword, is doing a great job killing it, when he gets tangled in it's tail.  Then the auguste (dragon) becomes jason tangled in the tail and the Whiteface becomes Medea.  She held Jason slay the dragon by casting a spell over the plug and unplugging it.  It was gold.

Another example of the great meta-fiction and physical comedy was when Jason has to sail through clashing rocks, the Auguste takes two slabs of rock (or fake rock) and stomps around and bangs them crushing the other ship.  When Jason was sailing through, they pretended he was crushing the other actor's fingers.

They set was incredible.  It looked like a wagon... but was so much more.  It unfolded to become a newspaper ship,  it moved on it's wheels to spin and change location on the stage, it came off it's wheels to become the tree the fleece hangs on and the walls of Peleus' castle.  There was also a truck that held all the dolls, ships, and spiderman paraphernalia.

The story was great, the actors were AMAZING, technically the best and very good an improv.  The auguste especially, he noticed I was laughing and singled me out from the start, even pointing at me at one time. Right after they make the wagon a paper boat, he said, yeah anyone of you can do it at home.  Just a couple of folds.  (The Whiteface was struggling to make on of the folds come out, not sure if it was scripted of not.)  Some of you might need help.  Definitely you."  That was me.  And I fell out of my seat laughing.

It was like watching children at play, only the story they were telling was cohesive.  I remember sitting in the lobby before the show watching the kids chasing eachother like zombies and using their own coats and candy bags as shields and weapons and thinking 'this is it's own kind of theater.'  I had no idea the people who had created the show had seen and thought the same thing.

Anyways... it was awesome.  http://www.visiblefictions.co.uk/

Check these bitches out.  They tour internationally and if they ever get near AC, ya'll should see what black box theater is all about.

Pretending to be an Agoraphobic writer

 Pigeons.

Who is this bitch and what is that thing in her hand?

I have mixed feelings about them.
On the one hand, they are very graceful birds.   Watching them fly is a glorious thing that I have been unable to catch on my camera, but it's very freeing to watch.  They make the most delightful cooing sound, which is a really cool thing to wake up to when they are in your window sill like this:

It's like they're talking to each other!

Then they can be so pretty and delicate like here:

Aww, he's bowing like he's asking me to dance.  How cute!

 But there's another side to pigeons... look at their eyes.

It wants to kill me.  I can tell.   This pigeon is out for blood!  I can never go outside again!

Also, I has a kitty... but not really.  She's an outdoor cat... and may also be out for my blood...

That's a two story house behind her.

Here's how I normally see her, pawing across the courtyard.  She comes across the big wall, maybe 20 feet high.

So delicate and pretty

She comes down off the shed...

She thinks she's hiding.

Yes.  I see the orbs.  Stop mentioning them!

She walks across the overhanging ledge.

















Then she chills out in the courtyard.









Anyways, this cat is incredibly aloof.  She walks away if there are any people nearby.  But she sits on my window sill and stares at me sometimes.  She's not afraid of us; she just doesn't give a fuck.

Mad Jack has gone to Dublin for the weekend, for the theater festival there.  Very excited for him.  I went with him... maybe two weeks ago to see some shows.  There was so much drama over getting on the bus (we had to print tickets and we couldn't.  We had to run to the bus so we didn't miss it because we didn't know where it was, but we found it).  In the end, we didn't need the print out and all was well.

Here's the calming scenery between Galway and Dublin:






The shows ended up being shit.  So much shit, that I'm not even going to tell you about them...

Okay fine I will.  One of them featured a ten minute opening of someone putting on make-up from a YouTube video while all of the 3 actors (the male included) put on the same make-up.  Then one girl sang a love song.  Then the man and the other girl fell in love, but with really high-tone language, like very mythic.  Then there was a picture of a man riding a horse... for TEN minutes.

Stare at this for even one minutes and see what it does to you.

Okay, our horse was at least in motion, but still TEN minutes.
Then they were modern kids sitting around talking about missing home and they kept interrupting each other with less interesting stories. (the first was about the guy calling his family one a month when he lived in America and they lived in Ireland and that's interrupted by the story of some friend they all know who quit her job and traveled the world and wrote a blog about it, and this is interrupted by... a story so pointless I don't remember it.
Then the guy and the girl in love stood next to each other.  She was happy.  He was restless.  While this was happening the other girl (the singer) was sitting on the floor with a jar of water and pouring that water to another jar, then sliding the now full jar across the floor and then pouring it into the empty jar.  She did this over and over and over and over... it drove Mad Jack even madder.  The guy sits next to her and held her, picking it up after she slides it, then handing it to her.  All the while she's got this great vacant blissful stare on.  Then the guy says to the girlfriend who is pouring sand between her hands into a tray (wtf?) I have to go. and she's like no! no!  And he's like I miss home.  And... then is was over.   (Somewhere in there was a great ghost story about an island that had to be evacuated due to flooding and the father who's three sons had drowned in the channel refused to cross the channel.  So he set a table for four and a priest on land watching insisted that they came to dinner.)
Apparently, this entire thing was a post-modern expression of an old Irish myth about a guy named Oisin (O-sheen) who falls in love and is carried away by a nymph, who then keeps him for 100 years without him knowing.  He asks to go home because he's homesick and she tells him he can, but he will lose his youth and die if he falls off his horse.  So fella goes, and of course, has to get off his horse to prove how strong he is and falls off the horse.  Ages a hundred years and dies on the spot.  Nobody told me this before hand, so the entire thing was confusing... but you know, as well done as that style of theater can be.  The actors were great at expressing concrete feeling in the abstraction.  They knew what was going on even if we didn't.

Which is more than I can say for the next show... Which was an hour of a man reciting for us a really lovely novel about his grandfather, uncle, and himself.  Their mental illness, their house, and their relation to God and Ireland.  Would have been a great book, very funny.  But the man was deadpan, hardly moved, hardly changed the tone of his voice.  Fucking boring as fuck.

Anyways, after experiencing the combination of mind-fuck and bored out of mind, this is what Dublin looked like to me:

Here's what it looked like to my camera:

Panorama!

Anyways.... whatever is awesome...
Right.


My time in Ireland has been ridiculously productive and I love it.
I finished "Unleashed" (Saulier and Averic) very recently...Last week I think... Sept 24 th 11 days ago and I jumped into the next one immediately.  That one has no title yet... but it is also finished and will be ready to submit to a contest about Bounty Hunter Nov 30th.

I'm looking for un-paid beta readers for them, if anyone is interested in critiquing and grammar checking gay male smut porn. I put that on facebook as a status... I probably shouldn't have posted to the world that I write gay erotic smut, but whatever. I enjoy it. I don't think I have any friends that are stupid about that and if they are, they can unfriend me. Fuck them, right?

I was very excited that I finished this one so quickly. Technically, it was a revision of "American Dreams" but it's so impossibly different than that story. They didn't share a single a scene, just the premise of a Bounty Hunter and his mark falling in love. And this one was much less campy.

So this has really energized and excited me! Which is funny because this is my horoscope today:

My favorite view while writing

Friday, October 5, 2012
By Rick Levine
You may need to accept your current status in a relationship or on the job, especially if you set your goals so high that they are nearly impossible to reach. But rather than wallowing in disappointment or fear of failure, acknowledge your successes. Instead of setting a new course, shift gears and move ahead by building on the foundations you have already created. Your confidence will return as you focus on the work at hand.


So yeah, I'm acknowledging successes and feeling really good about myself right now. I'm moving on to work on that e-publishing site now, so it should just be a matter of time before I'm telling y'll about the money I'm raking in from Smashwords.

Anyways, I have to get back to work. Actually, I think I forgot to write about this on this blog, but I've been treating writing like a 9-5 job, and I'm going to use all my lunch break on this post. lol. Every 90 minutes I spent writing I work out for 30 and I do that 4 times. Usually more. Writing has consumed me. If I don't do something in the morning before I start writing, I won't stop writing to do it. SIMS 3 Supernatural included! How fucked up is that? It's like I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing with my life. I just hope I can start getting paid to do it soon.

Ten minutes...

The Hat

Well, we finally have an answer to the question of the hat: was it cool and worthy of comment or just weird and therefore commented on.  Those of us with great tastes in hats (ie. me) all knew it was only a matter of time before the question was undoubtedly answered with a resounding "aye", but today the question was resolved in the most horrendous manner possible.

Mad Jack's most beautiful hat was stolen.

No.  Not by the over-excited kid.  He's still awesome and we run into him all the time now.

This was unfortunate foreshadowing.

The theft occurred this afternoon in NUIG's College Bar.  Mad Jack, ever filled with a deep-seated trust in the fundamental goodness of humanity (or at least the fundamental belief that they'll be too lazy or cowardly to steal shit). left the hat alone at a table to empty his bladder.  During this time, eye witnesses report, a woman approached the table, picked up the hat, tried it on, then walked off with it.

I wasn't even there to yell the history of that hat at her.

Mad Jack is considerably distressed.  Apparently, the hat was a gift from one of his girlfriends or something, and one of his most prized possessions (that's why he took it to Ireland).

This is her wearing the hat.

Anyway, the hat is gone now... and all that remains are our pictures and our fond memories.

Still the best picture of Mad Jack ever.

Random Little Boy

So... Mad Jack and I are in recovery.  We've not allowed it to stop us from experiencing anything.  Today I've seen a show about James Joyce, a culture night of weird things with women and this kid...

Basically as Mad and I were walking the 40 minutes home (it is 40 when I'm sick and yammering in my muppet voice about stomach pains) and suddenly this 7-8 year old kid dashes across the road.  He gets to that fence you see behind him (yeah, it's about chest high) jumps over that (well, kinda falls) and then rushes across the other two lanes of road to slam to a stop in front of Mad Jack and say, "Hey! Whasyaname,mister? CinIwharyahat!" (roughly translated into Jersey "Yo, dude.  What is your name, sir?  I like you hat?  Can I try it on to show off to my friends across the street?")

So Mad Jack let's him wear the hat and snaps a picture (I blurred it so it's not as creepy).  We talk to him for a bit, find out he's more well-traveled than I was at the age of 7-8 having been to Boston.  Didn't know where Jersey was, but he understood near New York was cool.
I was worried for a hot second that he was gonna dash back across the street with it.  So while Mad Jack was snapping above picture, I was formulating what I was going to call after him:
*please read this in the most epic, Morgan Freeman and/or old gypsy woman voice you have

"Irish child, you must know the history of the hat.   This white fedora was born in an unknown country; it has no tag.  It was sold in Upstate New York to me as a gift for my boyfriend.  He has worn it since in Wildwood, New Jersey as a pirate and now in Galway, Ireland as a student.  It has been lost 37 times (that's maybe exaggerating, but if you're doing the voice right it's believable).  People stop him on the street and comment on the hat.  We're not sure if that's good or not.  So God-speed with it, Irish boy.  You're wearing it backwards!"

Then he gave it back and so I didn't get to shout after him.

Later on, we asked our roommate when we got home if this was normal and he's like "Ya. Pretty standard yoke."

Yoke means "unpleasant thing", "egg yolk", "Ecstasy pills," and a general derogatory term.  They have lots of general derogatory terms.

So today, I also figure out something nifty my camera does (thanks again, sis).  Check this out:

Can anyone see what's wrong with this street?

I can take panorama shots.  This was my first attempt.  This was my second...

Sky, buildings, water, and trees!

 So more of those to come in the future probably.

Later on in the day, Mad Jack and I got a really neat opportunity to see a man preform a one man show and then discuss his entire career afterward.  It was really nifty.  His show is called The Dubliners Dilemma and it's about Grant Richards, the guy who took the risk to publish James Joyce's The Dubliners.  It was a really interesting 50 minute show about the gamble and included a couple of the more controversial short stories from that work acted out by the one man, with characters and voices.  It was really entertaining and I think I'm going to start trying to read Joyce again.

Here's a picture of the man after the show while he was explaining his career (of which I retained nothing...):

Now imagine him playing 2  little boys, the pedophile they encounter; 2 college jocks, the lady they encounter; a mother,  a very nervous singer, an abusive father, and various other people in the mind of James Joyce.

Later in the evening, Mad and I went to another show which he described as "Amateur Night at the Town Hall Theater."  It was actually for something called culture night and it was very post-modern.  Due to our still very debilitating stomach illness (good news I didn't accidentally poison us.  We're still experiencing the pangs so it has to be a flu), Mad Jack and I left after only see half the six act variety show.  The first act was a bunch of different scenes merged into one 30 minute block.  It was acted out by three women.  They drew from the shows Macbeth (3 witches scene), some restoration play than neither Mad Jack or I could figure out, something incredibly absurd possibly Beckett, and then Grace's monologue from Faith Healer.  It was very well done.  The three had really great physicality and used their bodies in really funny ways (particularly when acting as old women).  Also, and I'm sorry Salty Meg, they stole our idea of the witches in Macbeth having this hat...

The second act was a woman lip-syncing some interesting monologues while doing random things.  For example, the scene in There will be Blood where the one guy bullies the other guy about a milkshake, she was mouthing along and making a milkshake.  Then at the end of it she gave that milkshake to a woman in the first row.  Then while mouthing along to Warren Zevons "For my Next Trick I'll Need a Volunteer" she brought the same woman on stage, stole her glasses, blindfolded her, and fed her.  Weird stuff.  Even Mad Jack couldn't figure it out.

The next act was the one we came to see.  Two violinists, a french singer, and a woman reading spoken word poetry in Gaelic.  Gaelic is a hell of a language if you've not heard it spoken.  Sung doesn't count.  Find a youtube video of someone speaking in Gaelic.  I'll wait...

See.  It's alien.  Like outerspace.

The actress read two things in Gaelic, which Mad Jack (because he knows her) knew about.  The first was about her trip to France (which for some reason had lot's of references to Sound of Music as the only bits I understood were Maria, Hills are alive, Von Trap, and Do Re Mi.  Also the violinists were playing "Do Re Mi" and "Edelweiss") the second was about Gallway (and James Joyce and Nora Barnacle, his wife).   

Then we walked home and were accosted by a toddler who wanted to wear Mad's Hat.  It was a surreal night... not are surreal as my hallucination night was but... I was waiting for the fish to walk though.

Yeah also... this startled my reality:

Look how guilty he looks that I've found out.  Why Tony?  Was "Frosted Flakes" offensive here?  Is "Frosties" so much better?

Dragon Toast

Mad Jack and I are dying and it's all my fault.  You see I can't cook.  I didn't know you're supposed to cook frozen breaded chicken from frozen.  I thought you had to thaw it like regular uncooked chicken.  So when I served my honey and I a nice dinner and felt very proud of my good deed, I had no idea it would food poison us.  And now we're dying.

Also, I've become obsessed with toast.

So about three days ago I made this evil dinner.  As I was eating it I was even mentioning to Salty Meg (through a facebook chat) that there was something off about the sandwich. I thought it was the stale buns.

Literally, the conversation:
Me: Also, my buns are stale.
Salty: Lol.  Make bread pudding.  Or are we talking about your butt?
Me: That's for going into sexy places with that...

Later that night, Mad Jack had a really bad time.  He went to bed early and when I went to go to sleep like three hours later, he was shivering like a naked mole rat under all our blanket.  His face and head was incredibly red.  So I helped him get into warmer pajamas and hugged him and hoped he would be better in the morning.

He wasn't.  Mad Jack, without even trying to be funny, stumbled into walls, had trouble getting dressed, but was still going to NUIG.  At this point, I was starting to feel sharp pains in my stomach like he'd been describing and I realized we probably had the same thing, either a bug or food poisoning from said chicken.  I walked him to NUIG, because I was going to a tea house anyway and I didn't want him to walk into a moving car (which he almost did.  When I pulled him back, he then muttered, "she was stopping.")

He admits he was seeing double by the time we got to the school.  He took an easy day, sitting on the sidelines for his movement (the Pam ensemble class) and I went to the tea house and wrote.  Really gross things started happening to me in the bathroom about once an hour that I'm not going into more detail on.

I went to NUIG with the hope of running into Mad Jack (which I did, after coordinating on the phone).  Interesting fact about NUIG: it's about the size of Stockton but has twice as many students.  There is never anywhere to sit in the library.  But Mad Jack and I found comfy seat in a copy room and hung out (actually kind of laid on each other too exhausted and in pain to move).

Then he had too got to class in the Arts Millennium building.  Here's some pictures:




I love this place.  It combines building and sky!

Oddly this beautiful place is completely devoid of chairs or hallway furniture.  So we sat on the floor outside the room and waited for his class to start.  My intention was to stay there and write (there was an outlet on the wall).  As I was doing this a police officer approached me.

Now y'all know Capt. Bloody Thom Cash, doesn't like the popo.  They follow me, they find me, they ticket me, they show no mercy.  I'm thinking Irish cops are going to be the same, so I'm nervous and expecting him to be all: "PoTAto, Lassie, hobos can't be here.  Take this wee pink slip and pay the 60 euro fine for hall hobo-ing.  Whack-fa-la."
Actually he said, as if upset to be disturbing my writing,  "Excuse me, miss.  Do you know you can go into any o the empty classrooms around here?  Just make sure you leave when the classes change on the hour, in case there's another one coming in.  In fact, I think 109 over there is open."

So I think I like Irish cops.  It was weird.

Mad Jack got out of his class, found me in the room, then we went to The Cellar Bar (which is my favorite bar) and had fries and diet coke (and water).  And visited the bathrooms like once an hour to deal with the excruciating pain in our intestines.

The reason we didn't just go home, because you know we were dying, is because we had tickets to see Tuesday with Maurie.  Mad Jack gets to see like 15 plays for free because he's an MA theater student or whatever, so I get to see a bunch of plays because I want to, damn it.  And we were going to see this one.

I'm going to review it in a later post, but until then, here's a text I sent Mad Jack during intermission (we don't ever get to sit anywhere near each other)

This is the last time I see a comedy about death while I'm shitting fire and acid.

I promise that's as gruesomely descriptive as this will get...

Anyways, because we are still both visibly sick as dead dogs, a nice lady in the department named Bridey (spelling?  what a cool fricken name) gives us a ride home.  So kind of her.  We both would have collapsed in a ditch on the way home if not for Bridey, which would be an accomplishment because I don't think there are any ditches along the way...

Once at home, I get a taste of what Mad Jack went through the night before, incredible chills, burning fever, and constantly waking from sleep for bathroom trips.  Also, a little thing Mad Jack somehow escaped: I start hallucinating.
I think it's because I wore a sweater to bed and though I was experiencing chills, my body temperature had to be higher than normal.  The cause is unimportant because the hallucinations were funny.

So they started mildly.  I thought I could write a career-propelling article for cracked.com (which is a great site that everyone must see).  The topic was going to be how screwed up play rehearsals are in Ireland.  That's right... I was going to write an informed and hilarious article on a topic which I know nothing about.
And yet, I was able to write it in my head, intro, conclusion, supporting paragraphs... I think I even had citations... it was sick.

Then I started thinking - and this is somehow related to the purple chalice I was drinking water from to try to stay hydrated while making hourly trips to my friend the toilet- that if I did not beat this sickness tonight, everyone in a small country would die.

The country was one from my story.  It's called Tolemac, though I kept calling it Aedem which is that country's enemy; I don't know how I was confused.  The point was if I succumbed to the pains in my stomach then all of the humans in Tolemac would die.  Not that the story would never be written if for some reason a stomach bug/food poisoning managed to kill me.  No, the imaginary people would all suffer horrible deaths if I didn't get better.

Also purple chalice.

Later in the night, I spent hours trying to figure out how both Mad Jack and I were stupid enough to eat a piece of glass.  So there was that...  Eventually I figured out it couldn't be glass, because then it would have cut our throats and we've be dead and not just dying.  So clearly, it was ice.  A piece of ice that for some reason would not melt and was causing me great internal pain.

Mad Jack was trying to eat the world.  Then when he promised he wouldn't eat the world anymore.  He was accidentally swallowing the world as he yawned.

At some point I slept... I removed the sweater and stopped hallucinating.  I woke up at about 8:30 when my alarm went off, tossed that shit across the room, then fell asleep again until 12 maybe 1.  Then I realized I had not eaten since the fries at the cellar.

So toast happened.  I meant to eat it dry (which in my head was good for stomach sickness), then I forgot and had jam.  Then I noticed this and made Mad Jack help me take a picture of:

But this is what I was seeing:

Dragon Toast!

At this point, I decided I should go back to bed... and write this blog.

•