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getting the juice back

I've got to remember why I am here. I mean, not on the earth. There's no reason for that. It just is. But I am in Poland to write a manuscript.

But I need a job that's a little interesting to feed my writing. I return home almost always mentally drained every night. I mean, there's a good mental drain and there's a not so good mental drain. I have had much much worse jobs than Callan. But life is too damn short to just float along in a mindless haze doing a mindless job.

I have been here two and a half months and still no internet!!!
soon soon.

If I were in a place where it wasn't possible, that's fine.
But a lot of people have internet.
The one telecommunication company has a monopoly and they take their time.
And what else are you gonna do.
They have THE internet.



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I think this is from The Nortre Dame review, but I found it via goofle (I mean google).

Another Ireland: Part Two
Maurice Scully, The Basic Colours. Durham, UK: Pig Press, 1994.
Geoffrey Squires, Landscapes and Silences. Dublin: New Writers' Press, 1996.
Catherine Walsh, Idir Eatortha and Making Tents. London: Invisible Books, 1996.

By Robert Archambeau

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…