Wilde YES, Liffey NO

I like to think I have a good sense of direction, but about three of the ten miles I walked today tell me I’m wrong. To be fair, I’m not nearly as familiar with Dublin as I am with NYC and London… that still doesn’t excuse the many times today I went the opposite direction of my intended goal.

I’m staying relatively close to where I stayed the last time I was here, which is south of the River Liffey. I’m a little closer to the city center now than I was two summers ago, but both times I’ve had myself all turned around. Today, I wanted to get to the Liffey if not across it. Simple, right? It’s almost like all I had to do was walk due north on a street that runs north-south. Except it’s not a grid like NYC and I don’t know all the twists and turns like I do in central London. Every time I had a choice, I made the one that took me further from my goal. Maybe I can blame Samuel Beckett for this, as it was initially his bridge I wanted to cross. I hate Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. I understand it; I just hate it. I also had to do set and costume designs for it in IB Theatre. I thought I was pretty inventive doing an all white set, including the one tree, but I guess my teacher didn’t like my artistic choices.

Anyway, what I was able to find like a homing signal was the Oscar Wilde statue. No thought or decisions required to have me standing in front of my dead, gay, Irish, giant lover (and a tour group of German teenagers). Bolstered by my innate sense of where literary landmarks are, I consulted a map to reorient myself. Like my last visit, I was a bit upside down, thinking I was north when I was south, thereby messing up east and west. I *think* I have a handle on it now. At least I did this afternoon. when I made it to the banks of the Liffey for a stroll and some writing before continuing north of the river (and walking by the James Joyce statue, don’t worry).

Writing? I said writing. I wrote quite a bit today, starting in the Insomnia Coffee shop (great name, greater logo). Here are a few snippets that probably don’t make sense… mainly because very little of any of it is cohesive. (and because I’m still waiting for the hot water heater to do its thing so I can shower)

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Yesterday doesn’t count. Tomorrow doesn’t matter. Only now.

(Remember when Helen chastised me for misspelling tomorrow? “Yesterday” is more straight forward.)

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Life stripped down – maybe it’s what I need.

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Old bruises fade, new ones appear; am I ever without them?

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It’s not true, so I’m not writing it. Crossing the street or crossing the ocean, you would see me coming long before I’d recognize you. (I’m not shaking; it’s the bridge!)