I live in Dublin, Ireland, where in my apartment I listen to Neko Case and Madlib and scan the walls and ceilings for large, forever dangling spiders and listen to churchbells hourly, seagulls more often, sirens nightly. I walk a few blocks and buy my citrus on Moore Street with the other non-Irish. Down the street you can order from the Eurosaver menu in McDonald's where everything is priced at €2 ($3) or head across the street to Tesco's for a bounty of quality, cheap tea. We have a loft bedroom, a dirty skylight and a bathroom that reads 'Enquiries' on the door, perhaps once a part of the estate agents' office in the front of the building. There is a purple, abandoned Adult Store to our right (south) and a cream-colored Dr. Quirkey's Good Time Emporium to our left (north) that boasts "the most dynamic and exciting slot action in Dublin." If you point in a southeasterly direction, you might be referring to England.
There is also a back garden, overgrown and wild. In one corner there is a rope once meant for a clothesline and in the other, a healthy apple tree. Green apples, hundreds of them. I have not had the pleasure, but by way of Mr. F, I know that our one neighbor is a single, Middle Eastern man, by way of our shared wall, I know he likes to blare late-night Polish television and by way of our shared trash bins, I know that he is a regular investor in Jack Daniels and Four Star Pizza.
I am confused and annoyed with the public transit and so walk anywhere I can, unless there is a chance to take the DART, where I can steal Hollywood views of South Dublin from my seat on the train. The views are of untouched Irish Sea shoreline, mountaintops and sometimes an unfettered view of old Irish ladies reading new novels or old Irish men looking out windows or inspecting their shoes.
I spend most of the day alone, working out currency or temperature conversions, watching old BBC tv series, trying to remember old stories, old cities and dreaming of future visits with good friends and the soon-to-be Productive Me, the one that goes to School and works part-time and learns more and more important things about the world. I also dream of one day Doing Something.
Even so, the days pass by peacefully enough and I am the happiest I've been in some time. Even in my daily walks through grass-is-greener nostalgia, I recognize that I'm in a good place.
Here is some music. Me and the spiders have been listening to this all day:
