I'm being stalked by the Grim Reaper
I'm Leaving Dublin for a few days, more death parties.
It's getting beyond a joke, I wanted cinematic dead bodies, not real ones.
The table of Ancestors will be crowded this Halloween, but everyone's cups will be full, and laughter will ring through the hall.
If anyone actually gets to see the Horrorthon don't forget to let me know how crap it was, and tell me that I missed nothing.
Still, the trip out West, and quite possibly the Island may well be just what I need. Some time in a place where everyone in common parlance speaks a language that I do not, in a place which has little in the way of modern metropolitan "convieniences".
Many good books have been written in isolation I am told.
Judging from the context of the visit, anything I write will be ghostly visions of Pirate ships, dancing funeral robed skeletons and the voices of the dead being swept in on the crest of an Atlantic gale.
The laptop gets to come so does a book, and i'm going to see whether I can purloin enough tea to last me the whole experience. I intend to attempt to start, what I hope will be a habit of writing at least a thousand words a day, whether or not they are in any way good.
The Island, considering my outsider status, may well be the place to start that. Though I fear that in the beginning there may well be little of use I can cull from my inital attempts.
There is of course the chance that I will not get to the Island, and will spend most of the weekend drunk in a Western pub. In which case, it is unlikely that I will get the thousand words a day written, and if by some miracle I do, they will all be very badly spelt.
Will more than likely be back Monday when normal incredulous observations will be resumed.
Everyone have a good weekend.
Peace and Hope