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Sunday Night Saloon

A picture of me and Ewa and Bandit at our friend Chris's house last night. This picture was taken after four joints, six beers, and some Iranian food. We all watched the dog chew the ball and we all wished we had the teeth to chew a ball like this dog. I could hear the dog chewing the ball for at least 8 hours after he finished chewing the ball. It was a very good Sunday night.   



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Another Ireland: Part Two
Maurice Scully, The Basic Colours. Durham, UK: Pig Press, 1994.
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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…