The Freelance Writer

‘Sitting on the Egg’

April 8th, 2008

Had dinner in the big house tonight - and guess what - everyone’s still talking about ghosts. Nick’s still up and the whisky isn’t helping ‘the fear’. But I ended up chatting to Patrick Jones the painter about ‘Process’. He’s a massive help because I was all fussed up about this stupid gift poem I want to write about the Titanic Dock (cos it was owned by my grandfather’s grandfather blar blar) The chat has really loosened my mood. I’m always so hung up on doing things ‘properly’ - time to let it all hang loose a little.

Finished another wire horse. After chatting to Patrick, painting abstractly and instinctively seems alot clearer.

Went on a long lonely deer stalking mission in the forest but couldn’t find any deer. Possibly my rattling pencil case scared them off.

Low productivity today, it was more a case of ‘Sitting on the Egg’. Happy though

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A mule, an upside down horse, a duck and a cormorant

April 7th, 2008

I’m sleepy. Its ghost related sleep deprivation. I keep waking up in the night- its so darn quiet. The ghost thing has got silly now so I’ve decided to actively ghost hunt. Ghosts aint nothing but pesky and a bit weird anyway, they rarely hurt people.

My auntie Bridget came from Mullingar and took me out to buy milk in Cootehill and treated me to a massive duck dinner at a nearby hotel. Very grand and brown and deserted - except for two sets of old people sunk down in their seats watching Father Ted. I felt I was showing signs of having not spoken to anyone for days - I couldn’t stop talking and I had too much spittle (hehe). She’s taking part in the Mongol rally this year. Go auntie Bridget. So there was lots to discuss.

Wrote a poem today. Which is odd because I swore I would never write one again. I did a massive artist-in-distress ‘I give up, I’m never writing again’ tantrum this morning. Then I wrote a poem. Poems are like that.

Sketched the horse alot- he was sitting down today - I pulled up a wicker chair beside the field and sat for hours like a bloomin impressionist. I used the watercolour pencils that Rachel gave me. Loved that. Visual art is way more social than writing. Love that too.

Off to ghost hunt now. Guinness does taste better in Ireland xx

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The horse has legs today.

April 6th, 2008

Its snowing today. I feel more at home It’s definitely all about the pliers today.

I’ve managed to achieve lots but I’m still scared of the poems. 2007 bore me so much creative twallop that it really is the last chance saloon for poems (they call it a creative crisis of confidence). I’ve put all the scrap notes on the computer anyways. And I’ve put legs on the horse! Had a few stern words with Shugch during another sketching session, but it started snowing so he was let off the hook.

Had a chat with Burt too (Burt’s great) and read a chance article in the paper about Paula Rego’s dolls. Is it a sign?? I’ve had a good day Now Im going to steal the leftovers from the big house’s lunch and go back to my cave and do some more work. Whatever that may turn out to be.

Just by chance I found out, to my complete surprise, that I was planning to come here and write a puppet show last year too. I do worry about myself.

More piccies (including a fetching one of my gran) on http://www.flickr.com/photos/80877837@N00/2393624386/in/photostream/

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The Freelance Writer

‘Sitting on the Egg’

A mule, an upside down horse, a duck and a cormorant

The horse has legs today.

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