Settled here in Dingle for a few days. Hopefully, I can get some writing done.

Cork

We're on the piss.

Five days in...

Well, I have to be honest and say that I was dreading the North. Kelli and I drove from Dublin to Derry on Saturday, mostly on the coastal route (at least from Belfast).

The city of Derry holds the best and worst of things for me. It is swollen with the hangover of civil war as am I.

I think some ghosts can rest now. I walked along the wall, visited the coolest club in the entire world-Sandino's, and talked to locals to catch up on the craic.

I also walked the paths I walked four years ago. I pushed my face against the window of The Gweedore, but I couldn't bring myself to have a pint there. Some things I need to leave snuggled in the past.

We are on the West coast now. Last night we stayed in a B & B right down the street from the grave of Yeats. Tonight we are in Clifden.

And for those of you who are wondering, yes, I miss Telemachus like crazy...but this is my time.

Dublin

I have been to Dublin several times before this week and I have almost never had a good time. Once, when I was in love, I flew to Dublin for 27 hours. It was crazy miserable.

But this time Dublin has been different for me. Endless wandering of streets in search of tucked away pubs, conversation stretched across smooth, meal replacing pints.

The River Liffey is so lovely. It splits the city into two distinct sections and for some reason it seems to organize something inside of me as well.

Today we get a car and head to Northern Ireland. I hope I can reclaim the North just as I have reclaimed Dublin, but I don't know. There are ghosts in the North.

How do you say goodbye to this face?

Telemachus is watching my every move. He knows I'm leaving. Five weeks and two days is a long time to a human, but what about an animal? I'm hoping the vet is telling me the truth when he says that to a dog, five weeks is no different than two weeks.
I never thought I could love a dog this much and even though I am thrilled to be going back to Ireland, the thought of not waking up to this face breaks my heart.

I know he will have a great time with my mother. I already saw the treats she has hidden in her cupboards. I hope she remembers my lectures on "Loving something doesn't mean you stuff it with food."

Two days...

One week...

...and I will be heading to Eire. It feels like I am going home. Most people think I'm Irish because of my last name, but I'm not.

This is a picture of my Ohio friend Jacquie and me at McDermott's about four years ago. Now Jacquie lives in a cottage behind McDermott's. I can't wait to sit at this very picnic table and write. There is live ceili music every night at McDermott's and the craic is always good.

It's been a rough weekend for my family, but things seem to be improving and I am humbled by the miracles I've witnessed.

On the poetry tip, I had the poem Sitting at Le Cafe la Nuit picked up last week by American Poetry Journal. I couldn't be happier with my recent acceptances, but I also look forward to lounging around the fields of County Clare and writing some new stuff.

I'm looking for some good novels to read on my trip. I have a couple lined up, but I am open to suggestions. If you had all day to read and write (and pub crawl), what would you be reading?