Annoyed

Ireland had a wolf-whistling contest. Read here. As someone who has degrading things yelled out the window at her practically every day, I'm disgusted. Wolf-whistling is a symptom of a larger problem of disrespecting and devaluing women. I first learned about this on www.feministing.com. I am so sick of this bullshit. Yes, it's politically incorrect. Pointing that out doesn't make it ok to keep practicing it, or to make a competition out of it. We should be discouraging this ape-like behavior. Not rewarding it.

Village Adventure

I went to Ballincollig Castle today! B and I trundled across the fields, were chased by really cute puppies, waded through a bog, and stepped over a large dirt pit that felt like walking on chocolate cake. The castle is mostly taken by nature, beer cans, and graffiti, but it's clear it was a rather large castle with great towers and maybe a moat. The cross section of a spiral staircase flashed across the expanse of grass where floors once were laid. Wonderful.

The sidewalks in town were odd today. Gasoline spattered the streets like molten silver. A bird was flattened on the sidewalk, its eyes eaten by ants, the skull crushed and cracked, and the brain bulged out of the open head like an opal glowing strangely in pale sunlight. Two men in a car laughed at a tractor crawling toward them. I brought glass to the recycling plant: my bag ripped open and a bottle shattered on the street. I worried about kids feet. Cleaned up best I could.

Waiting for L to come home to me. England is far away.

Cork has a faux Banksy

I can't help but capture street art.

Outside

I haven't written in a few days. That's because I've been trapped in an oneiric smoke for the past week or so. I have been outside in the sun, examining white lilies, hot pink and purple grape hydrangea, myriad roses, straight laced lavender, holly trumpeting with sticky red and yellow flowers, endless plants... and then feeling sunlight reach right into my guts and massage any agony out. Yes, it has been that strange. I know I've eaten, but I don't remember. I know I've slept, but dreams and waking are the same tenor. And I miss it. The blissful fog lifted this morning and I woke up startled to remember that I have things to do, people to write to, arrangements to make, even important forms to submit: it all seemed ridiculous to imagine that there is more to life than being in nature and being happy.

Outside is such an odd idea. I think nature is inside, and the removal from it through homes, schools, and buildings is outside. How could someone be genuine in a classroom or on the sofa? You go in nature to remember that you're an animal, then you feel human, and then you know yourself. It only makes sense.

Sunlight

Lisp Kiss

Butterfly face

ETA: excuse the vanity-- I'm just learning how to use the fancy-phone I got for xmas from my in-laws. Ooooh.