Showing posts from July, 2014

The Girl who wrote to the King of Sweden

His Majesty Carl Gustaf Folke Hubertus,
Drottningholm Palace, Lovon Island, Stockholm County, Sweden.
2, Letsbee Avenue, Wexford, Ireland.
JULY 2014

Dear King,
How are you?
I hope you and Sylvia are well and enjoying the beautiful summer weather. I just wanted to drop you a line sayinghey heyfrom a small Irish woman who has been mooching around in your country. It's my own fault. Some people in one of your tiny towns (that you may not have even heard of) called TranĂ¥s  asked me to come and sent me a ticket.  In an attempt to foster creativity and connection they have created a residency in a giant house beside the train tracks that used to be a fur factory.  Apart from hallucinating on the first night (exhaustion and stress) that my bed was surrounded by small mammals with liquid eyes and flashing teeth, I have not seen any furs, unless one counts the coat I found in the second hand shop beside the  6 - 23 ,  and spying a dark sh…

Under Mad Wood

Figure 1 Does that wheel look bockety to you
Under Mad Wood
In winter the biting snow arrives early, heralding interminable darkness filled months, that the residents respond to by changing their tyres and wearing layers, using the barks of birthing birches for their kindling, and stocking up on Jagermeister and in summertime wild flowers in clusters of lilac and white clutter the roadside hedging, the un-sprayed chemical free train tracks, the meadows at the banks of iridescent skyblue lakes.
I know because I saw them.
What's a mad woman from Wexford doing in the middle of Sweden in July writing stuff?
How did she even get there or why?
I asked myself that same question as I dragged a case the size of a small apartment into and out of taxi boots, bus hatches, escalators, elevators, airport carousels, and murderously vicious slamming doors on high speed trains.
The case itself was purchased from a French street vendor in Cannes last week,
for the express purpose of conveying a maniac t…