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Turned 30 yesterday. Got a Nikon coolpix camera. Spent all morning playing with it instead of preparing a lesson plan on Kierkegaard.

Got some music. The new Modest Mouse, Dr. Eugene Chadbourne, and The Kills.

Went to a show at Gate City Noise and heard a band called Robotnicka. Most of the members were from France and they wore strange costumes. The keyboardist was a bear with fake fur and a bear head and carpet down his back, the lead singer was a soft bunny (nothing resembling the Playboy bunny), the drummer wore boxers and taped his chest. They sang banjo electronic french folk disco songs. They also sang songs about the commodore 64 and the game Ninja 2. Sometimes we sang along even though it was in French and I didn't know what the words meant. It was an experience. A great happening.


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Another Ireland: Part Two
Maurice Scully, The Basic Colours. Durham, UK: Pig Press, 1994.
Geoffrey Squires, Landscapes and Silences. Dublin: New Writers' Press, 1996.
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I began the first half of this article (Notre Dame Review #4) by mentioning some of the limits to the legendary hospitality Ireland has shown to its poets. If you arrive in Ireland from any point of departure outside of Eastern Europe, you will indeed find a public far more willing than the one you left behind to grant poets the recognition all but the most ascetic secretly crave. However, this hospitality has never extended to Irish poets w…