Art of the Odd

I like browsing the spam comments in my Akismet filter before I delete them - partly because I want to be sure no legit comments have gotten trapped in there (I haven’t had any trouble with that, but I know other people have), and partly because some of them amuse me. There are plenty of the type filled with random characters, hiding links to sites I have no desire to see, but the ones I like are the ones that attempt (usually in mangled English) to form some kind of personal connection.

“This post I like very much. You come my site. Much love. Ebbeca.”

I got a new one today, though. Some SpamBot thinks I’m behind the times.

“I saw similar post three month ago. Topicality of this post sucks. Dude, you have to keep up to date.”

This, from Dotty - or “femaleapants at (free email service not named here, lest Dotty be hijacking a legitimate email address)” - whose web address promises me “onkel-man-best-gay-video.”

As if I’m going to fall for that. Dotty, dude - you have to keep up to date.

As promised, I’ve submitted one of the stories I used for my Clarion application to Weird Tales. I was so wound up about it, I forgot to attach it to the first email (though I did remember to paste the first four paragraphs into the body of that email, per the instructions at Ralan.com’s listing for the magazine), and had to send a second one, with an apology and an attachment. I can only hope Ann VanderMeer’s done something similar in her time…

NovySan got the invite for his high school reunion yesterday. It’s at the Hilton, in a town near the one he grew up.

The invitation included a brief description of the event. There’ll be an open bar - four hours worth of an open bar. This is a good thing. And dancing, yes. We like dancing. And a buffet. That’s alright. Nothing wrong with a buffet. But what’s on the buffet, that’s the question. Well, it appears to be… Heavy hors d’oeuvres.

Heavy. Hors d’oeurves.

Heavy. Hors. D’oeurves.

Nope. Still can’t wrap my head around that.

I’ll plan to take a camera. And maybe a scale.

One of my New Year’s resolutions was to apply to the Clarion Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers’ Workshop, at UC San Diego. As I’ve mentioned here before, I’ve always thought of myself as a writer - but I haven’t always been willing actually to write, and one of the things that’s often stopped me is fear. Fear of sucking. Fear of not sucking. (Because if you don’t suck, then you really have no excuse, do you?) But, having made the resolution, I actually carried through, and this morning I got an email telling me that, although I wasn’t one of the 18 writers selected for the workshop, I have been put on the waitlist.

I can live with that.

In fact, I can more than live with that. I’m so excited I can barely type.

I’m a bit nervous, though. Because another of my resolutions was to submit at least one piece of writing for publication. I know which piece it is. It’s one of the short stories I submitted to Clarion. I’ve got one or two small edits left to make to it, and then away it goes. And I know which market’s getting it. It’s Weird Tales. My goal is to get it to them by the end of the week.

Wish me luck…

The full photo set is here. Here are some highlights:

Saturday, March 15: We landed at 10 AM, picked up our rental car (which Novy did an excellent job of driving, on the wrong side of the road and with the stick shift on the opposite side) and plunged into midday Dublin traffic. After a few (did I say a few? Okay, it was more than a few) wrong turns, we made our way to our hosts’ flat, in Rathmines, and got ready to go to PaddyCon - an all day pub crawl with a group of Irish, Canadian, American and Czech leprechauns of which I, unfortunately, have no pictures - but if those who do would like to post links in the comments, we’d much appreciate it. (Update: There are a few pics posted here and here.) Along the way, we met Brigid in the Post Office (a lovely old lady who told us she’d been there in 1816) and saw giant French puppets in the rain.

Sunday, March 16: We staggered out of Ian and Gina’s flat and headed north, on our way to the National Museum of Ireland, to see the bog bodies. On the way, we passed Trinity College - I would have liked to see the Book of Kells, but didn’t feel like standing in line, so we admired the grounds and moved on to the museum, after which we wandered through St. Stephen’s Green, one of the most beautiful parks I’ve ever seen, and watched the sun set over the canal.

St. Patrick’s Day: Thanks to Gina, who’d been working on the project for weeks, we marched in the parade, wearing tie-dye and pushing a sound system topped with a seahorse. Here’s a brief clip of our section of the parade:

And as if that weren’t enough, once we’d wiped off the greasepaint and had a few pints, it was time for the Kila concert at the Olympia Theatre (followed by a few more pints, complete with spilled drinks and dancing, and excellent burgers at Rick’s American.)

Tuesday the 18th found us in Galway, on the other side of the country, and the single night we spent there wasn’t nearly enough time. Our host, Niall, treated us to a brief tour of the medieval city, excellent vegetarian shepherd’s pie, and a great bit of trad (traditional music) at a pub called The Crane.

Wednesday, March 19: Possibly the only thing that could have pulled us away from Galway so soon was a Christy Moore concert in Enniscorthy - our second trip across the island in as many days. And, oh yes, it was worth the drive. Enniscorthy’s a lively little town - lots of boutiques to let you know there’s some money around somewhere, and a neo-Gothic cathedral that was swarming with TV crews. (It’d been chosen to host RTE’s four-day Holy Week broadcast.) Across the river is Vinegar Hill, site of one of the last major battles of the 1798 Rebellion.

Thursday, March 20: We left Enniscorthy and drove out toward Dunkerrin, deep in the boggy Midlands, where Dan’s family emigrated (or were transported) from. There’s not much there, even 150 years later, but we saw the church some of them may have attended (though it’s Anglican now - the Catholic church was built in the 1970s and still displays a picture of John Paul II), went through the cemeteries there and in nearby Moneygall. On the way, we stopped in at Leap Castle, whose owner kindly allowed us up into the tower, though he was about to go out. (It may have helped that our Galway host, Niall, once lived in the gatehouse.) Leap’s supposed to be haunted by a small, smelly elemental, but all we saw was a black-and-white border collie guarding the door.

Friday, March 21 through Sunday, March 23: We left Port Laoise, where Brian (who we’d met at PaddyCon, kindly put us for the night) and headed east to Wicklow, where we spent Easter weekend with Randy, Mel and Captain Allen TurboButt, hiking the hills and recuperating from the preceding week. They live in Glendalough, just across the road from the Monastery of St. Kevin (though they’re moving soon, to nearby Rathdrum). Leaving Galway was hard, but leaving Wicklow was even harder. Still, leave we did, and drove back to Dublin Sunday, to spend one last night with Ian and find our way to the airport Monday morning.

Monday, March 24: Our flight left Ireland Monday morning, and landed in LA Monday afternoon. We said hi to the cat, had a drink under the lemon tree, took ourselves out for margaritas and calamari steaks at Casablanca, and went to bed around 8 o’clock. We’re already planning the next trip.