riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.


PORTO ALEGRE has slipped gently into Summer with the normal cyclic weather of warm, to hot, to intense blacksmith forge to mutha of a rain storm, to cooling down and starting over. When I say "warm" that is relative, I'm talking 30c plus.
Today we're on a cooling down period, it's actually cooled from about 39c yesterday to 33c today! Don't think it's going to get much lower.

Normal for Summer, EVERYONE'S gone to the beach, except me. Can't afford it and haven't got a place to go anyway since my divorce. As a consequence of everyone having gone to the beach, I've got very little work during the week (= very little dosh) and I find myself at home trying to write, mostly failing and spending hours on internet crap, or reading. At the moment, and for the second time, I'm reading "The Quincunx" by Charles Palliser. This book is probably the best Charles Dickens book ever written, not by Charles Dickens. Palliser out Dickenses Dickens, er, I think, so to speak. "A literary classic...blah blah", just so. "Literary classic" usually means you have to read it two or three times to understand it. With JJ's "Ulysses" make that perhaps, four or five times, and with his "Finegan's", forget about reading it, just have it on your bookshelf to appear intellectual. Or try drinking 12 pints of Guinness THEN reading it, it works and everything makes complete sense.

End here. Us then. Finn, again! Take. Bussoftlhee, mememormee! Till thousendsthee. Lps. The keys to. Given! A way a lone a last a loved a long the