Reading my way out of the bog
As I sit here attempting to remain true to my commitment to post AT LEAST once a week I hear the eloquent screeches of a baby pterodactyl being unleashed through the thin walls that separate this office and the teacup human’s abode. Having a child really robs you of your free time. I thought this was just something other parents made up to make us non-childbearing people tip our hats to them and acknowledge they will always have it harder but goddammit children really throttle your social and personal life. They got us in a chokehold and there is literally nothing you can do about it. *laughs nervously while looking around for an escape hatch*
Reads
Am I the only one who is exhausted…like bone tired at the constant self-branding, promotion and monetisation that weaves it’s way into everything these days? I re-downloaded Instagram a few weeks ago while my husband was travelling for work. I had a weird ‘naughty me’ energy with that decision which I will now of course spend weeks obsessing over and self-analysing. I digress. In the three days (month -___-) I was back online it totally sucked on my soul until I felt spent, angry, massively depressed and I began to obsess over how my life is a complete and utter failure. The noise was obnoxious and the comparisonitis a disease. I don’t want to bandy on too much about the old days of social media and how much I miss that. What I am really curious about is how we have been changed as a species, irrevocably, by the merging of profit and personhood in our current era of online evolution.
This article on Vox, Everyone’s a sellout now, is a fantastic read that articulates far better than me exactly what is draining my life force these days. I am curious to see how generations approach this movement differently. Sometimes I feel like I have my head totally buried in the sand and, I kind of like that.
“Yet what they best represent is the current state of art, where artists must skillfully package themselves as products for buyers to consume.”
Bants
Here’s a photo from a time I often refer to as ‘the good ole days’. I miss those ‘easier’ seasons especially while I am now in the thick of hardship. It’s challenging really for someone like me- a nostalgic romanticist with an overactive imagination and depressive mood swings- to not live my life with my eyes in the rearview mirror. Ye all know I am not shy when it comes to talking (joking) about how I am struggling mentally, emotionally and all the -allys you can think of pretty much. It has been one thing after another with debt, the inability to thrive in an outrageously priced location, car troubles, career doors slamming shut, loneliness in parenthood, failed attempts at a date night without le bebe etc. etc. Things are really very hard right now and it is so easy to get lost in the shite. I found this sweet little TED video on the history of Nostalgia. I never knew the etymology and to know it now, ‘homecoming’ ‘longing’, I feel a fissure in me cracking further open in response. As someone who emigrated from their home and will likely never return permanently, this is something I feel with a depth that can’t be spoken to.
Currently I am on a galactic search for things that can keep me going in this challenging time, one of the toughest I have faced yet. Happily taking recommendations if you dear readers have any to pass along. I hope that if you are reading this and you are firmly being pulled under by the bog, led in by the pooka of false promises I assure you that you are not alone. I hold you aloft, I hope you hold me.
Eats
I have had parentals-in-law visiting for the past week so am ALL OUT OF MY ROUTINES. This has not boded-bided? bidden?- well for my mental health which needs predictable structured daily tasks to feel purposeful and a sense of control and calm. Something to do with growing up in chaos and childhood trauma connected to lack of structure or whatever but basically it means I don’t always handle non-predictable activity well. Weirdly though I do love a little bit of spontaneity it all really depends on how my inner state is doing. Right now, she is not too good, but it’s ok I’m just taking it as it comes.
So here is my recipe for
Emotionally Regulating Banana Bread
Pre-heat your oven to 350 degrees farenheit or 175ish degrees celcius.
4 overripe bananas-most recipes call for three but I found one that lowers the sugar and ups the ‘naner count (buh-naner that is). If you don’t have that many just do three and increase which sugar by half a cup. Mash in a bowl and set aside.
1/4 cup white suga and 1/4 cup brown suga. Mix in large bowl with 1/2 cup (8 tablespoons) of melted Irish butter. Mine is usually rock hard out of the fridge so I melt it in a pan and then of course it’s just a bitch to clean but whatever.
Add two eggs and 1 teaspoon vanilla essence into mix. Honestly I do not know what the point of vanilla essence is…it always seems like such a tiny amount in the big whole bake and it never tastes like vanilla but seems like it’s much important for the whole shebang so I just do it anyways. At this point in time I hope my little sister-who is a professional baker-reaches out to me to educate me because she is amazing I bow to her superior knowledge and I know I could potentially be blaspheming here.
Add mashed bananas and mix her up nice. Apparently, you are supposed to sift your flour in….I have never done that lol so anyway dump 1 and a half cups of flour, 1 teaspoon baking soda, 1/2 teaspoon baking powder and some salt as you please in. Now fold it all with a spatula shaped object so basically instead of mixing (I think) you turn the mixture in the bowl slowly until it’s all combined. This is where I feel like I could seriously do well on the Great British Bake Off (Great British Baking Show for my americano friends). Fold in 3/4 cup of chocolate chips or basically a heck of a lot. I have substituted the chips for blueberries on the occasion I want to feel fancy.
Pour into your pan. Add 1/4 cup of chocolate chips into your mouth and 1/4 cup on top of the mixture for decoration :D I bake for around 50 minutes, do the fancy clean knife trick where I stab it and if the knife comes out clean it’s good but if not, I bake for ten more minutes.
Let it cool for approximately 4 minutes (if you are me and want hot snacks now) or I suppose 20 if you are one of those people who have self-control. Finish the banana bread in one day and feel happy about life.
The end.
This week has been hard. Here’s hoping the next is better.
R(esting) B(itch) E(xclusive)? I don't know I was trying to be clever. It failed.
Good afternoon/evening/morning/end of days to you. It’s been a chockablock week for me so a little light on the posting schedule. March is our madness month, we got tons of birthdays, anniversaries, family visits, and Paddy’s Day and this year easter and jesus christo there is a lot I lost my breath just typing all that. Plus, we got so much shite going on with mould infestations and multiple vet visits for the pets. WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS AM I RIGHT?
Reads
Sadly, I do not get much time for television watching these days. Part of me enjoys having a more limited relationship with tv, I have really been investigating my own personal relationship with numbing and avoidance when facing difficulty and I know tv has historically been a very soft, safe place for me to land. I do love it though, particularly beautiful storytelling and the commitment to excellence and artistry that we see in a lot of shows these days. Yay for a golden era of television. So right now, I am deeply invested in one show on Hulu and FX and that is called Shogun. Based on a book and an older limited run award winning show from the 80’s it focuses loosely on the true story of political goings on in Japan in the 1600s. It is BRILLIANT and one thing I really appreciate is the costume design; often an overlooked element of any media production, the costume design and its consistency and quality is a major contributor to the success of world-building. This sweet article I read on Harper’s Bazaar is a great interview with the incredibly gifted designer Carlos Rosario.
Shōgun’s Costumes Are an Epic Ode to Japan’s Sengoku Period
Bants
(As I sit here typing this in the dark on my phone my baby is chomping on my nipple with her SIX first teeth and my cat is lying on top of us while licking her head).
It’s World Book Day and I received darling photos of my niece and nephew dressed up (both of them) as Harry Potter for school. My heart exploded with joy and remembering of the treasured celebration of the one hobby I’m any good at-reading. I was reading a couple of criticisms online by parents condemning the whole ‘dressing up for school thing’. So much so a couple of schools removed the day and oh I don’t know I mean I grew up without the money to buy costumes and we just made them. The world is so dark right now and reading for pleasure among younger generations is down globally I think if there are opportunities like imaginative play that allow children to connect with stories then we should encourage it. If dressing up is a sensory issue for your child, or uncomfortable or stressful then by all means opt out but let’s not cancel the whole thing. With that in mind please share with me your favourite childhood book character. I would like some ideas for my little one, books to collect, costumes to plan.
Also, as I was reading about all this, I came across a news article about basically the Fyre Festival equivalent of Scotland and I am shook. Some dude organised a Willy Wonka Experience and it was a total shitstorm/scam/shocking fiasco and honestly in this day and age where there is so much visibility and inability to hide I actually found it secretly electrifying and gleeful that he got away with it. Laugh my fookin’ arse off.
Eats
Sharing this recipe with you all here in My OWN words that I got from NYT Cooking (hope it’s not like stealing or something) because ba ba ba it’s behind a paywall. I made this scrappy little quick and scrummy meal while my husband was on the mainland doing who even knows what I stopped listening after I heard I would be solo parenting for several days. Mainly because I was celebrating only having one child to parent for a brief moment as opposed to my almost 8-month-old baby…and him my 30-something year old second child. I kid I kid :D
So onto the food.
Chile butter noods (I can’t remember it’s official name)
While you are snacking on your ‘making dinner snacks’ (any good cook knows it’s important to eat while making dinner to keep the hanger at bay) boil some water with salt to cook the pasta. Do not forget to salt the water. I learned this trick years ago probably from Home Economics class and have done it ever since. No idea why but I think it makes it…taste better?
Lob a chonk of salted irish butter into your large skillet or dutch oven pot. I usually base my butter chunk off how much slipperiness I want my food to be. I think the recipe called for 4 tablespoons. While this is occurring, pour in heavy cream about 1 cup or (irish measurement) also you can use whole milk that’s what I did because who randomly has heavy cream in their fridge? My mother-in-law that’s who but not this millennial no sir. Keep cooking it at warm on a low heat.
Cook pasta in salty water until AL DENTE (the one profesh cooking phrase I through around like I am a working chef on the line on the show The Bear). ie. a little chewy. Put pasta in creamy mixture, don’t toss pasta water to reuse later. Add a LOT of spinach, like six fistfuls. I love spinach but that thing cooks itself down into another dimension, I am not entirely sure the physics of it but for some reason I put four fistfuls in and whats left is one piece of grass. The rest has gone to be with God I am assuming. Mix everything together to coat
Lastly, still on a low heat, toss in as much parmesan as your heart desires. I always find the amounts given for cheese, garlic and chocolate chips to be widely inaccurate to what I deep down in the core of my being know to be the correct measurement. Once noodles are nice and slick, you can add some reserve pasta sauce to make the dish more saucy it’s time to serve. Divvy it up however you need and then I top with chile crisp to give it some kick. I just bought some at the shops but next week imma try make my own so I will share about that in the next post. If you can’t get chile crisp no biggie maybe do some crushed red pepper flakes and LOTS of cracked black pepper.
Alrighty stay easy, breezy, beautiful, Cover Girl.
Reads, Bants and Eats in the final week of February
Reads
1.) Scrummy little bit of poetry by the breathtaking Sylvia Plath. This was written in 1960 about the upcoming birth of her daughter Frieda and is full of lovely symbolic imagery relating to pregnancy and the myriad, weird thoughts and ideas an expectant mother has. Plath famously had a very tenuous relationship with childbirth and being a mother, this is one of her writings that reflects her positive perspective on the whole malarky. The poem takes the form of two 9-line stanzas, an ode to the gestation period of 9 months. Plath didn’t always seek fun in her writing so this one is particularly enjoyable.
Clownlike, happiest on your hands,
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo's mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fool's Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.
Vague as fog and looked for like mail.
Farther off than Australia.
Bent-backed Atlas, our travelled prawn.
Snug as a bud and at home
Like a sprat in a pickle jug.
A creel of eels, all ripples.
Jumpy as a Mexican bean.
Right, like a well-done sum.
A clean slate, with your own face on.
Why should you read Sylvia Plath? - Iseult Gillespie
Here I have attached this lovely little 4 and a half minute ted ed video on Syliva Plath I found quite by accident while reading up on her. Possibly I am finding in my own personal struggles with mental health at the moment a sort of visibility and camaraderie in the words of women like Plath and Emily Dickinson and others.
2.) Here lies the internet, murdered by generative AI by Erik Hoel
I love this concept of AI content being pollution. Such a visceral, smelly word it is, this whole AI thing, it’s pervasive. Everything I look at online I am questioning if the source is human or not and that is worrying. People are filtering job applications through AI, artwork is being made, fake writer’s are being conjured up to make cheaper and cheaper works. Distrust and discord being sown right in front of our eyes, and we are enveloped in this concept’s tentacles. I am not afraid of being replaced and murdered by AI bots, but I am afraid for how we humans have a propensity for choosing the most convenient, easy, and destructive behaviours, systems, what have you that lower our intellectual and emotional capacity for good and creativity. and honestly I agree with this writer. He pontificates on whether we are willfully accepting of AI generated content even in it’s most obviously generic, bloated and faulted form because .
““That’s not hardball capitalism. That’s polluting our culture for your own minor profit.””
Bants
My cat has two evil ingrown claws poking into his toe beans. Who knew this was a thing? I did not, probably because I’ve always prided myself on cutting his claws pretty regularly but I guess in the last month or two I forgot somewhere along the line? Life has been tough lately and I have been a bad animal parent. I tried to cut them today and he shredded me to pieces. So off to the vet we trot tomorrow after only bringing one of my dogs in three days ago because he is allergic to grass of all things? Yay vet bills. Consider this the universe warning you friends, trim your pets claws you will pay for it if you don’t.
Picked up this cute mug at Target the other day for $5! What a steal. When I moved to Maui I shipped all my handcrafted (expensive) stunning mugs I had collected over the years in one uninsured box (BIG MISTAKE). The box came with a footprint on it and nothing but dust inside. So now I just can’t afford to buy the good stuff so when I see something that sparks joy and it’s a bargain, I’m on it!
Eats
To be frank friends I’ve been seriously dealing with some depressive lows at the moment and my appetite has been somewhat affected. Cooking had been priority zero right now and I’ve just been grazing on I don’t even know what. I heard someone say, “people speak their hard into the world and make it known” this feels especially true when you have a baby and are seemingly drowning in “just you wait”-isms. Everyone has hardship and nearly everyone wants it validated and to be seen. This is comforting to me.
Anyways here is a sort of recipe I cobbled together when I accidentally made an omelette (my first ever!)
2 eggs beaten with a splash of whole milk and excessive cracked black pepper and some salt.
A dollop of salted Irish butter
Melt in frying pan, dump eggs in and promptly forget you were making scrambled eggs. Turn around after consoling wailing baby about five ish minutes and observe that the edges of the egg mixture are solid all around pan and crinkly.
Think hmmm…quickly sprinkle some feta, chop up old green onion tops that look like right shite but whatever and toss in maybe a handful of chopped cherry tomatoes
Slide spatula fish slicer thing under half of egg pancake and delicately pull over other half. Watch it cool for a few more minutes, say fuck it grab pan and attempt to flip. Let it sizzle on other side for few minutes till it looks browned and voila. Dress with pesto.
I should write a cookbook lmfao
Midweek Meal
With the rebirth of the seasons comes the rebirth of the weekly reads, bants and eats newsletter that I KNOW you have all been missing with a feral hunger that feels maddening and elusive. The dull ache of failure has been seeping through your bones, dragging you down to sit in harrumphiness in the pit of your own ‘what’s the point-isms’.
OH WAIT that’s me I am describing. LOLLERPANTS!
WELL DEAR ONES, welcome back to another episode of the tragically infrequent postings by Ned in which I attempt to share a few ditherings on things that have brought me small joys, giggles, deep existential musings and a tiny nub of purpose in an otherwise long/short life. I decided to jump all in because I have an UBER dedicated readership :P and I have committed to a year on this site. Let’s see where it takes us shall we. I need this, I am a new mother type figure who is reconciling with a rewriting of my whole world and self and I want something that honours the old me. This is a good expression of that with the limited free time that I have. So onward to the sweet recommendations.
Reads
Wow, what a swift and brilliant little read. I love articles on the Guardian usually they have good recommendations for follow up reads and have a wide range of topics. Did I read this article this very morning which then motivated me to come write this blog post? Most certainly I did. Something I have had a really hard time with in my evolution of self (more on that in another post) is the weird social presumption of the concept of me as an individual and me as a mother being mutually exclusive. At the same time while there is an innate sense within me of fighting against my various prior identities being subsumed within ‘mamahood’, I also feel a depthless ferocity of love towards my little human so it’s a quixotic tension. This was a read that made me feel seen and not alone.
2.) My spouse is sober…I am not by Lindsay Johnstone.
I know I know I just wrote this whole post kinda well shitting on Substack as if I don’t actually use it quite routinely. I do in fact love to read newsletters on there, especially when they are both accessible and profound. This writing circulated its way to me quite by accident. Here I was just finished with my yearly Dry January effort feeling nice and smarmy about how much better I am than everyone. Just kidding, I was feeling troubled about myself and shocked at what an incredible challenge it was to give up alcohol. The experience brought me to a very emotional and unstable place and I wasn’t sure what it meant when I saw this article. I, of course, celebrated the end of my month of boozelessness with my ole favourite-a gin and tonic or two-and found, to my surprise, I did not enjoy it quite like I used to. I awoke the morning after with the grim realisation that I couldn’t quite find the reasoning to justify the physical and mental consequences in this aging body of mine. So much so that I am really trying to take a step back to analyse my relationship with alcohol. This makes a lot of sense in the context of my family’s personal history with addictive substances. This piece really speaks into that questioning. 10/10 would recommend.
Bants
1.) Now something a little lighthearted. I came across this fun reddit post somewhere in some email and wasted a nice minute or two watching it. Who knew Lindas reigned supreme for almost an entire generation.
Most Popular Baby Girl Names in the US From 1950 to 2018
2.) My laptop has been broken for nearly a month now. So, I am effectively cuckolded :/ from being online except when I can hop on my husband’s desktop at the rare moments my teacup human is napping longer than 30 minutes and I have given up on cleaning. I have been listening to a LOT of podcasts in place of watching ma shows and this one was a beauty. One of my favourite creative ventures, the On Being Project interviewing one of the most skillful language artists and living poets I have had the pleasure of following- Pádraig Ó Tuama- back in 2016 in Northern Ireland. Some lovely stuff on dialogue, reaching across the aisle, the Northern Irish Troubles and the power of poetry to lay bare.
Listen here or probably you can find where you get your podcasts.
Eats
Goodness you know I have not categorically been balanced in my cooking and eating these past two months. Something to do with depression, maternal rage cleaning blah blah looming sense of financial anxiety and inflation making it next to impossible to afford groceries. I have, however, returned quite often to this one meal as something that I usually have these items in my cupboards in bulk-ish and doesn’t cost a lot of time to prepare. My husband randomly obsessively bought multiple 50lb bags of dried chickpeas/garbanzo beans so basically that will be all we will be eating from now until we die LOL but in actuality they are a yummy source of protein for my non-meat eater fronds.
If you did want a meat with this dish to bulk it up I would probably airfry some lightly breaded chicken breast…nuggie style. You know what loves I will go and dig up my own recipe for homemade fried chicken nugs/strips I have somewhere and share with you. Back in my carnivorous days I was a fiend for fried chicken.
So off we trot to the second half of the week. I hope this perked up your Wednesday and I shall see you all next week as this sweet, sleepy February draws to a close.
Autumn Reads, Bants and Eats!
Halloooo my old pals I am making good on my promise to flex my sleepy little writing fingers and newish attempt to generate cohesive grown up thoughts that have deserted me in the wake of spending all my time with a newborn human. Hence the first of something I personally enjoy a lot, a weekly post filled with some recommendations of good little reads, silly life things that caught my fancy and some yummy noms that are filling our bellies right now. I always love reading these types of blogs so I thought why not share my own.
Reads
1.) I think it’s likely I will be regularly sharing articles written by Maria Popova because she is one of my favourites and every week when I get her emails it’s like the articles were specifically chosen to speak to the status of my soul at that given time. HOW DOES SHE KNOW WHAT I NEED TO READ? I just aspire to write with such vivacity, prowess and brilliance one day. This short article really resonates with the theme of selfhood that I have been exploring. The Courage to Be Yourself: Virginia Woolf on How to Hear Your Soul. Since I have been finding a stirring in me for great female writers, particularly in bygone eras, I was intrigued to read about Virginia Woolf and her perspective on the soul. It’s a quick read that will hang out in your brainstuff for a while.
2.) My daughter is ten weeks old. I came across this poem online and cried reading it thinking about the incredibly intense love I feel for this teacup human and how much it terrifies me and is rewriting me. The gift of parenthood is so much sweeter and so much more responsibility than I had anticipated. I am wading through the bog of myself and my tiny pooka child is leading me deeper and deeper to confront goodness knows what in the dark. You may say I am in my ‘Brooding Era’ as I have been reading several books of poems lately to wallow away my thoughts in. I highly recommend it for spacing out with existential thoughts.
Bants
So I was (all too) briefly in art college a few years back after the pandemic when I thought (wrongly) that the cost of education in the US was worth it. BIG MISTAKE! The debt incurred for those few years of learning in the ways of something that has always been a dream of mine simply pushed my family further into a financially stressed position, and I have nothing to show for it. I digress. However, recently an old classmate of mine who is incredibly hardworking and talented shared on instagram her final painting project. We took painting together, just the two of us, with a brilliant but challenging professor. The theme for her project was Self-Representation and she painted a beautiful piece. One thing I recall from my college experience as an older student is that she, and other Gen Z, had an easier time connecting to her sense of self, her identity and exploring that openly than I did. She was 19, I am 32. I struggled so hard to open up and it limited my confidence. I would deflect constantly any direct commentary on my work that was positive and only hold onto the negatives. I would be so unsure of how to engage my deep self with what I was making. I was almost ashamed of any self-referential work and shied away from sharing what I had made or taking any pride in it. Even now as I reflect on this final brief I would have been undertaking had I remained in the Midwest, I can’t seem to conclude how I would choose to reveal who I am to the world through art. I am, it would seem, classically trained in the art of self-deprecation, self-flagellation, self-hatred (seriously all the bad self things) and all of it is wrapped up in a neat bow of shame and the millennial tendency to be confused as to how best to connect to my authentic self without falling into main character syndrome. Is this confusion because we were born straddling the line between pre- and post- internet age? ANYways it got me thinking I really need to tune into my deep self and sit with…well me. One thing I love to do for others is ask them to share with me three things they like about themselves without judgement (or fear of) and it’s always a sweet conversation tool. I think I am going to try turn this on myself and readers I encourage you to do the same. Do the awkward thing, look in your eyes (yes directly into them which chronic self-avoiders like me have not done for quite some time) and say aloud without giggling, three big or small or in between-y things you like about yourself. I read a recent substack post about human encounters and it really set me thinking how it would be to encounter-truly, fully-ourselves. It could be a very beautiful and terrifying thing, but those are always the things worth doing in this brief flash in the pan of a life we have.
Now dear ones if you were to paint a piece titled ‘Self-Representation’, what would you paint?
Eats
FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD….my how I love food. Unfortunately I live in a very expensive place and the cost of everything-particularly groceries-is climbing up and up leaving those of us who live paycheck to paycheck (if we can even make it stretch that far) with fewer and fewer options to nourish ourselves. So on a quest to try to shop as conservatively as possible while still feeding ourselves I am always on the lookout for good recipes that are simple, and use as many staple pantry ingredients as possible with easy substitutions as opposed to ones requiring specific fresh ingredients that don’t last and die quickly if you don’t use them asap.
1.) My husband hates canned tuna, he regularly shares his feelings of repulsiveness towards tuna sandwiches and mocks my tuna breath whenever I eat it. I LOVE tuna I don’t know why he is such a hater, the man eats peanut butter and jam sammies for christ’s sake talk about disgusting :D So here is an easy Tuna Pasta Bake recipe I found that is low cost and you can batch make and freeze for easy leftovers.
Cost-saving tip: I always use ground, jarred herbs instead of fresh because fresh are more expensive and I never use them fast enough to warrant the cost.
2.) Oh my god I can’t believe how easy this is to make and the most expensive ingredient is salmon which I just buy frozen fillets in bulk from Costco. They are a little up there in price but since I don’t buy meat except chicken every so often for my husband and they are such a good source of protein I usually get a bag every few weeks. This Miso Butter Glazed Salmon takes like 15 minutes to whip up and then serve it over a bowl of rice or whatever grain you fancy and BOOM a delicious, nutritious meal.
Substitution: I often use a whole onion instead of the scallions and shallots because they are hard to come by and expensive.
So my friends onwards to another week of blurry sleepy days, crisp autumnal weather, pots of coffee warming the cold hungry bellies and another opportunity to just live this precious gift of life as fully and with as much presence as we can muster!
EXTRA EXTRA It's Reads, Bants and Eats Time!
It’s a new week my sweet ones and if you can believe it we are a third of the way through the year GULP. I realise this post is late this week by a day or two. Honestly I am brain and body dead from both growing a human and working two on my feet jobs and I delegated this post to a day when I knew I would have a few hours to sit and think and nurse my ONE cup of coffee… A DAY. -_______- Of course now I am here and the sweet dulcet tones of social media are tempting my distractable and sleepy brain from this joyful activity. Such is the classic problem of life today. April is such a lovely weather month, I am enjoying this Spring-soon-Summer moment where it’s warm and breezy and there are lots of baby chickies everywhere fluffing up my day and just being darn adorable as I am going to and fro from work. Wild chickens are a thing here on Maui…it’s the best.
Reads
1.) I have been oh so slowly working my way through this most beautiful and articulate book called Becoming Wise: An Inquiry into the Mystery and Art of Living by Krista Tippett. If you are looking for something to really expand your mind/spirit/body in a “MUST HIGHLIGHT EVERY LINE” kind of way this is the book for you. When I am reading this I feel like Tippett is capturing every unspoken question and idea locked within me and sharing it in the words I am not equipped to say on my own. It is profound and diverse. The interviews are beautiful and Tippett discusses so many questions with many different people on meaning across multiple disciplines it is just wondrous and challenging. I am seriously considering going back and re-reading once I am done.
2.) Continuing on with this theme of what exactly is life about when it feels like it’s about nothing is this brilliant article Singularity: Marie Howe’s Ode to Stephen Hawking, Our Cosmic Belonging, and the Meaning of Home, in a Stunning Animated Short Film by Maria Popova. I think this article may have been from around 2018 I can’t be sure but Popova’s site The Marginalian (previously Brain Pickings) has been going for over seventeen years. I love that her articles are multi-media expressions full of deep research and fun, thoughtful ideas and musings. This is a nice short piece dedicated to Hawking who had at the time recently left the embodied stage of living and I just felt myself moved by the mini film.
3.) Ok ok one more delicious essay to really get you musing on meaning this week. Seems this is a common theme for me at the moment I wonder dear ones what issues I am struggling with internally and mentally? This is rhetorical….obvs I am on the struggle bus of what is the point of my life. Anyways Magic and the Machine by David Abrams (Emergence Magazine). This piece is a little bit longer but so worth the burrowing into if you can set aside the time. It is a visceral piece that grounds you in your body and the space in which your physical self is an integrated part of an ecosystem of nature, people and energetic ways of being all around you. Abrams, a geoculturalist and philosopher, writes on the concept of animism-how things that are not human possess spiritual essence-and how we as humanity going forward are fusing technology with our ‘souls’ and prioritising tech advancement while the ecological realm is being largely forgotten or harmed. It’s emotional and full of such good writing it hurts.
Bants
1.) This is the hoopoe bird, a regal little fella found across Africa, Asia and Europe that has significant cultural and mythological relevance to humanity. It was historically often regarded as a thief or harbringer of war in Europe and Scandinavian legend. It is also the national bird of Israel, that’s pretty cool. In Persian folklore the hoopoe was seen as the leader of the birds and one of the sacred thirty birds who survived the perilous journey of thousands who sought the Simorgh (King of the Birds) across the seven valleys in the ancient Persian poem Conference of the Birds by the Sufi poet Attar of Nishapur. Also their call sounds like they are going “WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP” which is just so darn adorable. Here is a fun fact video about this little cutie.
Hoopoe facts: birds with stinkin' great accuracy
2.) Netflix recently released a documentary about the young Scottish artist Lewis Capaldi. It was really moving and interesting. I put it on randomly while cooking to watch with my husband who asked that we turn on subtitles because as a California boy he could not understand the thick Scottish accents eyeroll. Capaldi is about to drop his second album, a pretty big deal considering his first in 2019 skyrocketed the young lad to fame and Grammy nominations for his raw, haunting vocals and soulful writing. This documentary has been filmed over the past few years from before his fame through the pandemic and details not only the career journey of Capaldi but also his deeply personal mental health journey that involves severe mental distress and an eventual diagnoses of Tourette’s syndrome. It’s all very visceral and sad and uplifting too, you really come out rooting for him especially as he is so….normal and his battles with anxiety and imposter syndrome are something many of us can relate to. Anyways it’s called How I’m Feeling Now and it’s worth a watch.
Eats
1.) Here is a yummy little vegan recipe I recently tried that hits both the flavour factor and gives you that satisfied full, energetic feeling. Beans and legumes are a big part of noursishment when you don’t eat meat and lentils are one of those delicious meal components that, when cooked and flavoured correctly, leave you warm and fuzzy inside. As always you can easily add a meat component to this such as chicken which would compliment the adicic tomato profile well, or even some Italian spiced sausage meatballs.
Roasted Garlic Vegetable Stew with Red Lentils & Tomatoes
2.) Trying to eat well on a budget seems daunting especially when living in a place where the cost of living and groceries are through the roof. Even shopping affordably for two is tough but it can be done with the incorporating of a few simple yet, tasty meals in your weekly rotation. This is a very basic pasta recipe with a wondrous sauce that requires a good blender.
Creamy Red Pepper Pasta with Blistered Tomatoes
I love carbs, they are the building block to happyness.
The first week of April Reads, Bants and Eats
Welcome welcome to the official first edition of my weekly reads, bants and eats. My little way of coalescing my thoughts from the week into a snackable and packable bite-sized reading section for your perusal. I realise it is not Sunday morning and look hey around these here parts we don’t promise to be perfect or good we simply hope to show up and be and that’s what I am doing. Considering most (ALL) of my readers are my immediate family members (lol I am lame) who all live in Ireland ye will likely read this Monday morning so I welcome you beloved ones to a new week of life and I hope it’s off to a sweet start.
Reads
I have honestly had a really hard time in this past month focusing on reading my beloved books. I have been dealing with some physical exhaustion and mental burnout and it has just led me down a path of distraction. For my reads this week I will share two really interesting articles I read this morning that give me my readers fix without asking for hours of focus.
1.) ‘I once admired Russell Brand. But his grim trajectory shows us where politics is heading by George Monbiot (The Guardian)- You may not agree with the author’s perspective on this one and that’s ok because disagreement in dialogue can be beneficial. I have been a fan of Brand in the past and still enjoy a lot of his (older) ideas but recently his social media presence and enjoyment of controversy and nonsensical trigger pulling have not sat right with me. Divisiveness and inflammatory power has been leaking through in his language that is purposefully convoluted so it’s hard to discern his meaning. Finally someone is writing about it in an articulate and fair way.
2.) ‘It’s a control thing’: why are we so fascinated by super-organised homes? by Amelia Tait (The Guardian). My second article is also from The Guardian. What can I say they employ good writers who cover a wonderful range of topics. Also their articles are usually not behind paywalls (*cough cough The New York Times). I thought this article was super interesting, I personally struggle with control issues and concepts like decluttering and home edit organising bring up all sorts of anxiety and feelings of failure in me. I am not organised and my house is not clean and the guilt stops me from enjoying my home.
Bants
Today I saw a bumper sticker on a car that read ‘I am so far behind I thought I was first’ and I have never felt so seen. I thought it was a good laugh and perspective shift. Sometimes we have to look at the race we think we are in and re-frame how we measure success against others. Life is long and short and it’s ours and nobody can make it less.
1.) Now for your listening pleasure. I have Spotify which I am notoriously not great at using to it’s full capacity. I tend to listen to the same like 5 things on repeat until I die. This week I decided to give the Spotify playlist ‘Discover Weekly’ a listen to see what they suggest and on that list was the oh so fabulous Sammy Rae and the Friends. Fronted by Sammy Rae the band is a self described collective of dreamers and artists who consider themselves a family first. Enjoy a little ear tickle of this delicious music that infuses folk, jazz, rock and soul. What fun it is to discover new music.
Sammy Rae & The Friends-Living Room Floor (Live at Roadrunner Boston, 10/15/22)
2.) Lastly in the banter section of this week, let me share this incredible video I watched this morning online from the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute (MBARI). This species has only been seen less than a hundred times since it’s discovery in 1899 and only nine times ever by MBARI.
An extraordinary deep-sea sighting: The giant phantom jelly.
Ok who knew that jellyfish turn into gelatinous goop in trawl nets to avoid them?!?!?!? WHAT? I cannot these creatures are so beyond our realm of living I feel blessed to occupy a world in which miraculous creatures that defy comprehension not only exist but technology has advanced to a point that we can see them and learn of them. 10 metres or 33 foot plus tentacles….imagine that wrapping itself around you…ayyyyyy.
Eats
1.) Hairy husband companion has been having so much fun making food stuff for us in our refurbished Vitamix that we finally after years allowed ourselves to invest. We have really been enjoying homemade hummus and pita chips this past month. Here is his go to recipe if you have a strong enough blender to chop up garbanzo beans/chickpeas.
2.) One of my favourite sites for recipes that are easily modifiable, delicious and can accommodate a wide variety of food preferences is Pinch of Yum. I love how she understands that dinner can be excellent and not over complicated. Not everyone has time to cook gourmet meals that invoke ancient cooking techniques used by generations of women who built hearth and home from the warmth of their rough womanly breasts and hardworking hands. (I don’t know what that image is but you get what I am saying). Here is a recipe I have made a few times that my vegetarian sister and meat-eating husband both said was scrumdiddlyumptious.
Pearl Couscous Skillet with Tomatoes, Chickpeas, and Feta
I didn’t make the salad part and we had naan bread on the side. This dish would go great with some oven baked chicken breasts with seasoning of your choice.
ALRIGHTY then over and out dear ones. Happy Easter to you all.
Welcome to Weekly Reads, Bants and Eats!
It has recently come to my attention that I am drowning in an ocean of personal malaise and lack of interest in anything I used to love. This is obviously not good. So in a bid to inject some hope and freedom into myself and my life I thought I would start a little weekly collection of small joys or ‘weekly devotions’ as I am cutely coining them. I don’t know if I have stated this before but I grew up in an Irish Christian family with a pastor for a father and the non-denomational church for a babysitter/social friend group for pretty much all the way up to college. These kinds of things they…affect us religious childhood peeps in a number of ways. A lot of that is in the language we use and over the years it’s been interesting to see how words I grew up using that everyone at Church just ‘got’ are actually confusing and weird for people who were not part and parcel of that group. I’ve worked hard to de-institutionalise some of my speech but here I am reclaiming one of those words because I think it works for this particular topic. So a devotion or devotional generally was a daily or weekly religious practice, namely reading some Bible goodies or biblically adjacent texticles, that you would ‘devote’ your time and heart too in an effort to be a more advanced Christian. I like the idea of devotion in a broader and more natural context and having it reflect more of a commitment to our own joys and things we notice in our day to day that bring us to a place of fulfillment and peace. Hence why I am reclaiming this section as the ‘devotions’ section.
So please feel free to check out this little corner of my spiderweb of madness every Sunday morning (I think? I live in Hawaii so I don’t know what time zone it will actually happen in lol) for some good recommendations of yummy recipes/food stuffs I have put in my belly. Things I devote myself too in order to bring me back to joy. There will also feature some good reads of a shorter nature than a book. These will likely be some interesting articles by much better writers than me that I love to read as a means to combat ‘zombie scrolling’ as I recently heard it coined. I will also maybe share a funny meme or story and maybe some interesting activities I have been enjoying lately or what have you. Who knows after all this is my website so I suppose I can write whatever da fuck I want and probably nobody except my brothers and sisters will read it.
Maybe I’ll call this segment ‘Shits and Giggles’? Eh who knows let’s just say the title is a work in progress.
Yellow.
Yellow is the colour. Yellow. Not green, or blue. Why not vomit green, mouldy green, green around the gills, green bile? No, somebody decided on Yellow. Perhaps a HSE directive, he wonders, ambling towards the Luas after a tiring 24-hour shift. Or maybe it was a WHO consensus – is it Yellow in other countries? The regular media coverage and social media commentary from different places blurs and overlaps and seems borderless. Was there an actual faceless civil service discussion on the colour here in Ireland – an agreed decision on Yellow, on behalf of an unsteady caretaker government? Yellow it is though – Yellow posters, circular stickers on shop floors, pop-up adds, sides of buses – Yellow; warns and educates about Coronavirus (which they even translated in some posters to Irish, that was quick, he thinks).
There is no one, of course, at the Luas stop. Automation, not being affected by the current pandemic (unlike the much feared Y2K bug) provides the due time for the next tram – three minutes. Just enough time to get a ticket, and he pauses – is it safe to touch the screen? The blue rectangle reading, ‘Standard Tickets’ awaits a response. A pointless precaution, on later reflection, but still, he nubs the options with his knuckles rather than fingertips. Working in Healthcare he could have a pocketful of clear vinyl or even blue nitrile gloves but that simply feels wrong. Something like robbing frontline Peters to pay civilian Pauls. His conscience forbids. In any case he sees himself washing his hands thoroughly as he has been trained in the next available public toilet along the way home and not touching his face or itching eyes until then. Clean hands still win the contest with contaminated gloves.
Now the Luas is due and obediently curls the corner at Blackhorse. He recalls those plastic toy snakes with moving attached body pieces like carriages. Each one pulls the next until all line up behind the head. He nods at the driver, which has never seemed necessary as there are always passengers alighting on the platform to capture attention. Not today, there is no one aboard. And there it is – Yellow – and plenty of it. All the train long seems bedecked in yellow bunting. Or sashes, he thinks, vaguely remembering orange sashes and songs from black suited marchers on news clips on British Television. These sashes are definitely Yellow; cadmium yellow, canary or lemon yellow. He knows from a distant and youthful employment in design and art houses that there will be a Pantone colour reference number for the Yellow (the printer needs that) chosen from a swatch of many yellows. These sashes, like mini-skirts pulled out over the knees for decency, are stretched over three of every four seats thus allocating safe places. He chooses to stand, as a preferred position, opposite the opening doors. At Drimnagh, three teenage males bounce in, and, making no eye contact, head for the nearest seats. They discard the Yellow sashes with a flourish and sit together in jocular defiance. Can one of these be a carrier, he ponders, asymptomatic and unsympathetic? An unknowing bearer of a deadly virus unwittingly transferred to hard surfaces, biding its time for assignment to a fated human host.
At Suir Road a little family steps on board. She is wearing a cropped belly top and faded jeans. Her tummy piercing is a bright jeweled cross catching the glint of late morning sun streaming in the tram window. She sports over-sized shades that conceal her personality. He notes how keenly he depends on eye contact to assess a person, he likes to think he might intuit thereby intent, or character. The father, or brother, is clothed with a fading grey sweatshirt with matching grubby trousers. They have no visible brand names. He wears white socks and black widened loafers – they might previously have been worn by different sized feet. He also, is hidden by large sunglasses. The little five, or six-year old girl watches her mother casually flip off the long Yellow sash and promptly does likewise to sit together. Children become teens and these consistently and intently demonstrate how not like their parents they are, but this age imitates, unquestioning, the behaviours of their elders. The father, or brother, anonymously loiters in the opposite doorway ever ready to disembark at the next platform. He notices all the surfaces their hands have variously touched or held and lowers himself cautiously into one dedicated banner free seat at a reasonable social distance. He presses his cheek against the cold Luas window and recoils immediately at the thought of virus transfer from the hard glass. A random handprint or residual droplets from a sneezing, coughing previous occupant of this designated seat. It seems likely, reasonable. Do they disinfect carriages clad in head to toe protective equipment spraying all surfaces at the end of the day? Is Ireland doing that? Or, are we not, ‘at that stage’? Leo will tell us, smiling and grinning with his newly apportioned importance.
The swans along the canal bank have never had such interested companions or been so well fed with soggy sliced pan leftovers. A steady string of cyclists, strollers and sitters are arranged with various measures of success at social distancing. As the tram rounds the grassy bend to St James’s he sees a small sparkling drinking party of afternoon revelers clutching cider cans. No observable distancing there – perhaps different rules apply in a boozy alternative reality. Colours flag what team you support, he thinks, blue for Dublin, reds and greens, purple and yellow – yellow, we all support Team Covid now. Yellow is our colour, regardless of County or conviction.
The city centre seems deserted. The narrow platform at Jervis would not permit any safe distance passing. How will this be managed in the dismantling of the lockdown restrictions? He sees two mounted Gardai, motionless, guarding the entrance to O’Connell Street – resting horses in the middle of the road. Noble centaurs in high visibility regalia possessing especially granted powers during the crisis. Intimidated by these he crosses the Ha’penny Bridge towards Temple Bar. And the Liffey waters lie still, perfectly reflective, yet indifferent to our very human plight. The padlocks on the railings are noticeable now with no one on the bridge. Passing John Gogarty’s pub, now boarded up against looting, he presumes – he thinks of Gogarty Ward in Tallaght Hospital. There, she will finally emerge from an eventful shift, barely coherent and exhausted, needing food and safe transport to well-earned rest. A few scattering tourists sporting bright lime green face-masks, give a wide berth. Can we assume tourists, he muses, caught in a fleeting uncertainty. Coffee before the next leg of the journey home on the Dart would be most welcome but there seems to be nowhere open. Along the way by Trinity College a SuperValu is promising but seems packed and best avoided.
He considers the ATM at Pearse Street Station. Cash here for the travel ticket, the vending machine? More touching of surfaces as his ATM card is not contactless, or simply doesn’t work and needs replacing (in case a worldwide pandemic engulfs routine life requiring minimum surface contact). Another task to complete when this is over. ‘When this is over’ – a poem, or a song lyric? Duly noted now on his phone as the very least response he makes when the muse inspires. There is a public bathroom down from the Dart platform at Pearse. There all noxious infections can be washed down the plughole. There is an attendant safely ensconced behind glass at the ticket stiles staring warily at his passing. An essential journey he reminds himself as he pats the Healthcare Cover Letter from his employer in his jeans pocket. The water in the bathroom is surprisingly hot and the oversized white-boxed soap dispenser produces a green slime with a curious gritted texture. He remembers a large jar of Swarfega brought home by his father one summer’s evening. He had spent days tinkering with the gears on an old bike that when painted and finished had one wheel, the front, several sizes smaller than the back. ‘No water, at first’ – and surely the sandy Swarfega restored oil and grime stained fingers to youthful purity.
The Dart trundles in from Tara Street. The doors refuse to open with just a glance and wait for the touch button release. Perhaps an elbow? No one said anything about the cunning virus clinging to threads, or seat coverings or jeans pockets, or face masks? Coasting quietly along the Dart line now, heading south – this could be last summer – bright, brilliant sunshine that is heavy on the eyes, a band of pure ultramarine blue brushed along the horizon and speckled with silver. Yet, there are few people. No early adapters taking a dip in Killiney, no crowds brimming at the platforms about to bustle life into the carriages. He removes to the opposite side of the Dart sitting safely in a window seat. Awkward fathers in St. Anne’s park throw Frisbees for their children. Others can be seen in the distance cycling wobbily along pathways with smaller ones in train. The obligations of the lockdown clearly making parenting possible in novel activities and out-door pursuits.
Sharing a car with a busy nurse often provides these solitary excursions on public transport as the car waits patiently in the hospital staff parking spaces. A good book to read on the Dart, three hours, at times, of coveted aloneness with no particular obligation to talk to or even acknowledge another person, is much valued. Now these simple pleasures are sharply outlined in high definition. And still Yellow warnings, explanations and recommendations abound in the Dart as in the Luas. A different committee, he supposes, opted for modest Yellow pendants hung around the necks of off-limits seating. He walks the length of the carriage as it approaches Bray Station. He wonders if he now has the virus. A healthcare worker – yes. Middle 50’s – yes. Married to a nurse – yes. The pendants hang languid, like mourners marking the solemnity of the question. The ‘Standard Tickets’ touch screen option – yes. Touching the ATM hooded metallic buttons – yes. Turning off the tap in the station toilet, after washing hands – yes. Does he have the virus? Will the presence and establishment of the virus be detectable within? It is novel, not yet known to the immune system. It will surely be like, but unlike, a flu or cold virus. Yellow is a cowardly colour he decides. Coronavirus is sinister, skulking, grinning while lingering on surfaces longer than is reasonably fair – it’s not fair. One-touch contact from any surface to an itchy nose or an eye irritant to going viral, literally, in the human lungs choking life and breath to a solitary death and burial, unattended and unsupported as it ought – marked only by Yellow, all along the way.
Written by Paul Dempsey.
Artemis Fowl: A film critique by a member of it's target audience.
DON’T WATCH THIS FILM!
This film is nothing like the first book, the only similarity is in Artemis’ name. For some reason the character of Butler is now known as Domovoi, why, why change his name? Juliet is now randomly his niece and she’s no longer 16 she’s 12. Also, Holly is supposed to be 30 in human years now she’s like 13 just so there can be a romance between Artemis and her, even though Artemis kidnapped and tortured her in the book and she’s now teaming up and being friends with Artemis.
They also got rid of something that’s sad, happy and sentimental. The mom we all remember from the books, the mam who had dementia and the person for whom Artemis gave back half of the fairy gold he had gotten for ransom. In return, in the book, Holly cured his mam and then there was that nice moment when Artemis and his mam hug and she wishes him a merry Christmas and they left that out of the film.
The CGI is terrible, the troll makes me laugh, Foaly doesn’t look good at all and Mulch’s unhinged jaw just didn’t work. Don’t get me wrong, I love Josh Gad. He’s a great actor and he played the part very well, it wasn’t his fault that the script is terrible.
One of the things that annoyed me the most was that Holly is supposed to be the first female officer which is why she has to do better than everyone else and why people are depending on her to do a good job. However, in this film Commander Root is a woman (why????) and now Holly is not the first female officer erasing a central theme of empowering women.
Here’s something that really annoys me, in this film Artemis is a good guy but in the source material he’s not a good guy he’s the villain/antihero of the story. This is what my sister said “As the books go on he grows as a person and as he matures he becomes like not necessarily good but a fully realised person with good sides and bad. He develops the ability to make complex moral decisions and display altruistic, other-centered character traits”.
This is a terrible movie there are so many other things that I didn’t even mention. Like the fact that the dad discovered fairies, the edge lord villain and the fairy handbook all which is a waste of space in story telling. I hope they don’t make a second film and if they do they better make it right and cast me as Artemis. If you are a fan of the books, even if you’ve never read the books, don’t watch this movie!!!!!
That is why I give it 0.5 out of 10
By Lachlan Dempsey