I’m working on my project, I really am.
Last week, I met with an archaeologist, an economist and a sociologist (unfortunately, we didn’t all walk into a bar). They’ve given me plenty to consider and read, and a trajectory for the rest of my time in Ireland. I had hoped to write about all of that this week
But on Friday the sister-in-law of my boss’s boss’s boss from an internship a couple years ago had me over for dinner and I so enjoyed sitting around an actual dinner table, telling jokes and stories, I didn’t get started on writing. I had an unplanned interview on Saturday that threw a wrench in my thoughts for the week. On Sunday, I went to see a production of Pygmalion and met up with some welcoming Irishmen who took me out for a night.
All this meant Monday was the day where I was going to buckle down and pull together these disparate readings and interview notes into some sort of coherent whole.
But as I wandered towards a quiet, closed-in space to write, earbuds in, I noticed the Dublin sky had turned from flat gray to brilliant blue, and that the sun, usually diffused through thick Atlantic clouds, was nearly reflecting off the cobblestones.
And I removed my earbuds and listened to the murmuring of people meandering the city echo off the brick walls. And I saw the finance guys in suits skiving off on a Monday. And I realized it would be a damnable crime for me to hole up with my articles and my notebooks. And so instead I’m going to go sit in Stephen’s Green, read a book, and watch the joyful anarchy of the kids on the playground.
I’ll be right back with some thoughts on death. In a day or so.