Dublin 2

October 6, 2013

Dull morning, so dull I slept very late, with an extended dream about doing a play with the students at school, during which we turned into vampires. I had hard time finding the table to take off the make-up afterwards.

Yesterday met Loretto in her gallery for the first time in years of trying. She looks well indeed, though she had tales to tell of open heart surgery last summer. I think she is a greater power in the art world than she lets on. Today she is in Nice for some conference, so I met her just–. Stephen says there is a death in the family, so he can’t meet me until Tuesday. I think he doesn’t want to see me, and picked a day that was plausible and yet late enough that I might be gone. It’s all right. I won’t try again.  Jason did the same thing, made up an elaborate story about a deluge so he wouldn’t have to come to the meeting he himself had insisted upon. I am able to take “no” for an answer. I expect to take no for an answer. Arrived back at the hotel late in the afternoon, at the exact second the maid was doing my room. Had a drink in the lounge, came back at the exact second the maid overseer was checking the maid’s work. This infuriated me. Hope I kept it to myself. It is a great hotel. Everyone calls me by name.

Late last night to Project Arts to see Riverrun, an adaptation by Olwen Fouere of part of Finnegan’s Wake. Ms Fouere was sensational. The evening proved that a charismatic actor can deliver even nonsense for a while and still keep an audience, though she (the piece, rather) lost me long before the end.  Handsome boy beside me who was her colleague, so I had to keep myself awake. The Wake is an exhausting joke that the amateurs and Philistines got right off. We academics still hammer away, trying make something of it, while Joyce in the Heavenly Dublin laughs.

Boring hour in the George. Portrait of John the beloved bartender on the wall, whom I knew and who knew me.

Derelicts in the street. They’re grubby enough, but how many are genuine? Saw one on Dawson, though, welcome a puppy from the street, who curled up beside him with the boy’s hand on his head.

I hope there’s still the Sunday art show on Merrion Square. Dived in yesterday. The shady areas are very dark, the meadows very bright.