A few months ago, I was interviewed by Blog Expat for their Expat Interviews feature; a lovely time was had by all. Answering the questions made me reflect deeply on my years living abroad – how did I get here (Ryan Air)? What advice would I give other expats (stock up on Jell-O)? But the […]
Author: ieatmypigeon
Keeper of the Castle: A Play in One Act
CAST OF CHARACTERS E: Writer. American. Early 30s. Breathtakingly gorgeous. OLD MAN ANTONIO: Pensioner. Early 60s. Italian. Haunts the bar where E goes to write. Scatters outrageous, unsolicited advice like so much birdseed. MARCO: Policeman. Italian. Mid-40s. MARCO was once one of E’s interview subjects for an article she was planning to write. FRANCESCO: MARCO’s […]
Usurpers to the Throne
The usual hours and the usual parking spot and the usual teenage boys behind the bar who take bets on what flavor of fruit juice I’ll be drinking today; if I’ll accept the aperitivo or no; if I’ll get any writing done while Old Man Antonio lectures me on exactly what my problem is […]
Blue Roses
At night, there are the nightspots and free concerts. My group of friends tends to meet up around midnight – when my friends in the tourism and hotel industry get off from work; when the nightspots start getting packed – and those of us who don’t live at home* and might not have eaten dinner […]
USA vs. USA
What happens sometimes – when you’re living in a foreign country, a country where you’re almost one of a kind – is that people want to pair you up with other stray members of your species. There’s another American who lives three towns over, they say. I’ll invite him over. You can chest bump […]
Gym
So something I do when I’m not stuffing my face with junk food writing my novel at the office is go to the gym and work out. Yes, you read that correctly; me, who won the 2004 Olympic Gold Medal for Ass-Sitting. Who would always, always, rather be asleep than be awake. Who has coasted […]
Office
The office is where I am these days; that is, the 113 year-old bar in the Centro with my laptop and my cell phone and my glass of vibrant orange Crodino. I’ve officially become a great big ball of novel-writing momentum, which is why I’m there and not here with ye would be-pigeon eaters but […]
It’s
It’s three p.m. on a Thursday in St. Stephen’s Green and it’s sunny – so ridiculously sunny for Dublin that everyone’s out and everyone’s in shirtsleeves and everyone’s on the grass and someone, some bold someone, is smoking pot; it floats on by in a sour whiff and Em and I remark on the absolute […]
Swift, Stoker, Rushdie, Wilde, Beckett, Me
Five years ago, nearly to the day, I wrote this in my journal: I need to just give up – I’ll never be a writer. what ever made me think I could be one? HOW CAN YOU BE A WRITER IF YOU’RE NOT CREATIVE?????? HOW CAN YOU BE A WRITER IF YOU NEVER WRITE EXCEPT […]