twangypearl the elastic girl

Guess where I've been

Clue: I met up with my by now lovely friend of some years (!), Valery for a hot chocolate, (thank you, inventor of the internet, for my internet friends) and made the bonus meeting of her DP, who was very kind to us. It was excellent fun. I walked around the town with my mother, and went to see the Rembrandts and the markets, and drank mint tea in hotel foyers.

The morning we had to leave, Valery's DP made us a very good coffee, on which I got a bit drunk, we ate chocolate sprinkles and biscuits in their lovely kitchen, and then we walked through the charming streets to Centraal Station and we were back in Dublin and the resumption of normal life just. like. that.

I would be afflicted with anti-climax, but it happened so fast, it all seems like a series of brightly lit snapshots in my head. City breaks, folks. Love the compressed quality thereof.

Normal life resumes, as it does. I did some sock-sorting last night, for instance, and I almost managed to throw away the single ones who have been waiting for their partners to show up lo these many months. Tune in soon for more of this thrill-a-minute stuff.

T

cat people

Ah, at last, a little bit of calm. We spent last weekend as planned in the South West to visit KDiddy. He was feeling fairly mouldy, poor man, staring at the ceiling, absorbing IV antibiotics drip by drip.  I hope our standing over him and plying him with drinks and papers helped, and maybe it did, because over the week he got a lot better, and regained his appetite -  a Good Sign, don't you think? Always a sobering experience, visiting a Medical Ward, all those poor old men, but we had a couple of tragicomic moments:

KDiddy: GO! And.. [lengthy pause]
JB: ..yes? Where are we to go?
KDiddy: I don't KNOW where! Get me..
[Further dramatic pause.]
KDiddy:  TWO..
JB and TPtheEG: ...
KDiddy: Heineken!

Bear in mind that KDiddy has been all but teetotal all his life, but if his attitude that day was anything to go by, is regretting the lack of drink in his life up to now. Such a sweet man. You couldn't mind when he curses extravagantly, he's that dotey and totally without guile.

So! On with the show, or Part The First thereof, the Setting of the Scene. It came down to a choice of rough and ready, or not at all, so I went with at-least-I-did-it. I also gave up the idea of editing it down to a page. That is not going to happen. Not with PSYCHOKitty - (rumble of thunder):
 

a study in inter-continental diversity

Bunny, WFI, readers, people who have inadvertently landed on this site, through no fault of their own,

Never, never let it be said that I can't be distracted easily I will leave any stone unturned in my endeavour to further international understanding:
  

I hope we can all move forward together now, in an atmosphere of cooperation and mutual acceptance.

No other news. It's still raining and I am still a hothouse flower. Lovely, warm Florida sun and lovely, talented comic campers, where are you now? It all seems like a wonderful dream to me now.
But - to the comics! I must keep the dream aliiiiiive!
Till later
T

home

I don't know why I like travelling so much. It's a bit upsetting, don't you think? Yes, stimulating and novel,
but it makes me feel slightly unravelled, as if all my personality consists of is a set of routines, without which I feel a bit undone. So, as you might imagine, what with the unravelling, it's quite good to be home. A bit anti-climactic, but fine. I feel as if I have been flung exhausted off a massive carousel of inky fun. You know, I am not sure if community life is really me. I am better at relating one to one, I get overstimulated easily and 30 is a large group, if you want to be all meaningful and stuff, like I apparently do. It's astonishing how quickly you can become institutionalised, placated by the regular provision of meals (such luxury) and the same faces and comic conversations. Days went by where we didn't even step off the compound, and when we did, it was a bit of a shock to see other (non-comics) people. People who don't make comics! Who ever heard of such a thing? In fact the JB looks a bit funny to me too. And our house. Was it always like that? It looks shrunken.
                                                                                                        
The last few days at Camp were very celebratory. There was a lot of clapping and yay-ing, a thing I find hard to
participate in without feeling a bit phoney. Oh, you're from Yurp, the Campers said, good-naturedly (they were so bright and nice), with your long addresses/low water pressure/funny looking tampons. I don't think Irish people feel all that European. I don't, but Heaven knows I am a bit odd. Do we, other Irish people? How about you, British contingent? Dutch people/person, do you? It seems to me we are our own thing, on the Edge of the World,  to the west of our cousin islands, and far beyond these lies something we call The Continent. The next parish, which we refer to generically as America, is off to the west somewhere. But the clapping makes me feel quite European - from an old, sardonic place.                 
                                                                                                 
So here I am, with a ton more facebook friends, and a half-boiled plan to take over the world by the power of comics, involving an online story to be told in installments and updated at least (!) twice a week. We have a forum with our master artist, we have our book which we are going to publish online. (Thank you for the encouragement with that). So there are plans afoot. Not to mention, later in the week we start our adoption preparation course.

That's it. Except, can I just say, it's cold and wet here. The shower is rilly weak and the tampons are totally weird.

T

American dreamer

Armadillo Watch = 0

However, as so often in life, (stay with me here, I am going allegorical) you look for an armadillo and you get a

raccoon. Such a startling, delightful thing it was to see that humanoid little face with beedy eyes peering fearlessly through the gloom. (Don't worry, I know I am not to "confront or feed" the wild animals).

I am realising, all over again, the wonder that is the USA for an immigrant like me - one brought up in a raincloud in the strictly monocultural, somewhat parochial and economically depressed Dublin of the 1980's. America! Its vastness, its devotion to fun, its opportunities, its hospitality, its promise.

And yet, and yet. I like my terraced house on my sodden island with its tame climate, the banter with the strangers, the way people know each other, the closeness of family, the green fields. I am fond, as one is of a curmudgeonly grandfather, of Dublin. The human scale of our city, my utter familiarity with it, the personal map of memories laid over it. Many ghosts of times past hang around street corners - I attended our 1996 Christmas party in that hotel with those people, the day my apartment got flooded R and I had a gin and tonic in that bar, I loaded the car in my ex-boyfriend's carpark there, Spike goes to school up that street, and so on, and on.

After years of lusting after a Green Card, applying faithfully every year for the lottery, I gave up, returned to the ould sod, met the JB, and got married. I was 36. Oddly enough, though a Kerryman to the innermost marrow, the JB has in his possession an American passport. Well played, Life. Now I don't need a Green Card, I have one because of him, and also because of him, I don't want one.

Ha. Ha. Ha.


Care to tell where you dream of living?
T

Thanks for your interest in the comic. I think I'll start a webcomic site where I can publish things like it, in my own name (I was not christened Twangy Pearl. Shocked?), away from all this necessarily anonymous stuff. Hmm. More on this later.

always look on the bright side of life

I just handed in my story. Hurray. Let the living recommence - for yes, breathing and looking up is permittable in this daring post-deadline world!

Here is an image from it:

 

It's a romance based on a real message from this site, as discovered by the brilliant Belgian Waffle.

...

Thanks as ever for your empathy. Life is full of shit (sometimes. Please, life, don't punish me by making me see how much worse it could be) when you look at it, but we are not alone, we have each other.
You're bricks.
(I like that expression, puzzling as it is. You're so good, I could build a house with you?)

ps. The Manga Girls are so dotey. They say YAY! in response to everything. I mean it. As in:
YAY, a drawing! YAY, it's dark! YAY, chopped cabbage!
You can predict their arrival by the yaying down the boardwalk. Such sweetie-pies.

postcard

Here I am, in Florida. It's truly wonderful. I am learning a lot - some things, quite fer-rankly, I didn't even know I needed to know. Like about Manga, and Slice of Life cartoons, inking, webcomics, indie publications and agents. I am getting my bearings - the residents are young, mostly, with a sprinkling of older people like me, mostly American, a few jet-lagged Aussies and a Malaysian woman (whose Irish mother comes from Whitehall, which is 5 mins from my house [world, small]).
Their voices do, as promised, go up at the end of the sentence? Know what I mean? They really are fond of the word "like" as a filler and by jimminy, are they fond of fantasy. The air is thick with their enthusiasm - you could stick a fork in the hot fog of ambition. I am being visited by more than the usual amount of "How did I get here?" moments, and quite a few mystified looks. My accent. They should meet the JB! I have decided counter-intuitively to go the other way and become more Irish. They'll get it eventually, I reckon, so they will. Begob.

And begorrah, it's warm here. I haven't seen any armadillos (boo), just a number of large spiders (an Australian told us one looked like a jumper. Jaysus?) and geckos. God knows what beasts teem under the boardwalks.

Where's me lucky charms, you'd be tired. I now realise I have been chugging along in the slow lane for - well - ever. We are making an anthology, (not to be in shops or anything) as an exercise - 10 pages of comics by Wednesday. There's also a terrifying rumour abounding - an alarmingly named 16 hour comic, plus our own work, whatever the hell that is. Also, life-drawing, workshops, talks, outings, openings, tours.
Karaoke! More talks!

I am far too delicate to work this hard. I need a note from my Mammy. Each day is packed with activities. There is no time to work, except at night, or early in the morning. It's mad, quite mad, but really fun.

More later, for dinner awaits.

Your roving
T

[Great model, after post-pose clap: This is my first experience doin' this. It's easy! Just like sitting at home havin' a beer and veggin out. Cue appreciative laughter from associates.]

It's Armadillo Time

Tomorrow I am off to Art Camp, having just about survived the usual mad influx of work that inevitably hits like an avalanche just before you go away. Updates from the expedition will be forthcoming, internet connection permitting, and one hopes - at least I do! -  commentary on your blogs will still be feasible.
I am looking forward to a bit of an adventure.

Who knows, I might have one, too, for The Camp takes place in a sort of nature reserve, where wild animals roam. We are advised thus, most thrillingly, by Those in The Know:

[Animals in the grounds] include snakes, mosquitoes, spiders, armadillos, feral cats, and other animals. Please do not feed or confront any animals that you may come across during your stay.

 
Also, this advice just in from my mother: Never smile at an alligator.
Really? Or else.. what? What?
Is there anything else I might be glad I knew? Bear in mind, Ireland is a place devoid of snakes, St Patrick having rather unkindly drowned them all in a lake in Kerry a Long Long Time Ago.  So  I know not of such things. Bring on your alligator-wrestling stories, I am listening avidly.

Better go and walk around in circles now, in my attempt to pack.
Your intrepid,
T

and all that mighty heart

I had visions before we went to London, that captured me as if enveloped in a golden haze, whiling away the hours drawing in cafes, swanning around Notting Hill and enjoying a joke at the wedding party.
Ha, ha.
HA.

There was no mention in the visions of the wilting temperatures in the apartment we were (kindly! I do mean it) loaned. It was on the top floor and the (frankly mad, or cold-blooded, like geckos?) owners had left the towel racks ON (!) so temperatures were in the body-melting hot to hellfire range. You could cook meringues in the bathroom, if you wanted to. Also (ehem - not to be ungrateful, again) Farringdon tube trains/buses/entire public transport system seemed to be rattling right through the flat, shaking the walls as they went. Not to mention the fact the three bathrooms were being re-tiled and the tiler was coming and going and by the way there's no quiet way to cut a tile. And, slightly exasperating experiences with chronically modest communistic-type cousin, who didn't want to put me out by inviting me to the wedding, and kept leaving me with five minutes to dash across town to the registry office, and the like.

So, you know! Eh. How can I sew this up without seeming like an ungrateful wretch?

I know!

THINGS TO REMEMBER

• Meeting she who writes at Womb for Improvement and she who writes at Nuts in May. They were so lovely, friendly and brilliant. It is SO nice to meet the people who've patiently supported and kept you company over months and months. I believe that far from being a distopic, isolating invention, the internet can be a shortcut through the dross and conventions to the real person, a person who you would never otherwise have met. I don't know what I would have done without you, internet. [Hugging laptop to chest, tearfully, as if it was an Oscar].

• Hearing Cousin's daughter sing at the wedding party. She's eleven, a sweetheart. Who wouldn't like a kid that tells everyone: Aiii thiiiink you're preeeeetty! Aii think's it's wrooong that some peeeeople have so much and soome peoplee have noooothing. (Bit of a pinko, the apple not falling far from the tree. See above.) Not sure if all the kids in Adelaide, (Australia. Not Texas, or any other) talk like that, all elongated? Could be just this one? Please advise. A dooooote, she is, in any case.

• Nice Eric Estrada look-alike who found all our money on the train and handed it in. Thank you, Eric. Karmic blessings on your CHiPs helmet.

• "Flight" on London Eye. Vast and amazing views of the city, stretching to the edge of the world:

View of Thames from party locale

Time for a sit-down, after all that.

T

matrimonial

It was our wedding anniversary earlier in the week.

It's been four years since we - heh - joined together. (Click advisedly! Image may give creeps).
Things I have learned about being married since then = .2, feels like. Recently it's been up and down, to put it mildly. The miscarriage still haunts us, (not surprisingly) making me hypersensitive and the JB as angry as a wet hen. You can see how these two states of mind might collide and cause a small nuclear explosion, and they do.
 

[Mansize tissues. Someone has to explain that to me.]

I do understand it is the grief. But I need to remember  I understand it, at the crucial moment. Poor old JB. It's really hard. Then, just as quickly, it's over and we're rational again and jokey with relief at having dodged the bullet.

STAND BY, LONDON
My cousin, who is from London, is marrying her partner of 15 years. To be together all that time, and really know each other, and stick together through all the life crap, and still want to get married, and be together till the end - I think that's really something. And so, as is proper, The Pearl tribe will converge on the hapless, unprepared capital for the celebrations next weekend. Oh, the EXCITEMENT. My sister (not) in-law (they are actually not married. Is there a term for her relation to me? There should be, she's brilliant. A pastry chef too! Sister-in-cake?)'s sister is lending us her (FANCY!) flat in central London, and we are going to have FUN, and poke around, go to shows, cafes, and squabble over A-Z's in Leh-cess-ter Square!

(If any one of my England-residing blog comrades is terribly terribly terribly bored at a very very loose end has some free time to meet next week, drop an email, (I can shake off the rellies, and point the JB in the direction of a war museum or something) I'd be so pleased to offer you a beverage of your choice in a cafe of your choice. However I do understand you are busy and have proper jobs and such like, (Employment.  The horror.) so do not worry if you can't. Another time will present itself in the future. There is to be no worrying! I AM ON MY HOLIERS!)


Ooh!
T