#283: Shady Characters

North Circular Road, Dublin

#287: Dublin Numbers & Gorse No. 3

North Circular Road, Dublin

There's something very satisfying about tracing the long arc of the North Circular Road. Cycling along it, you can fall into a comforting rhythm, almost like you're following a massive Olympic track. Walking, I always feel more at a remove from my surroundings, though these numbers hand-painted onto the low walls give me a sense I'm making some sort of progress. In shape and size, the black numbers on white remind me quite a bit of the curbside numbering of my hometown streets growing up. The steady presence of these numbers provides a way of orienting myself to the street, and the small variations that come with each hand-painted marker lend each one its own personality.

Until I find a way to make wandering the streets of Dublin my full-time occupation -- and believe me, I'm working on it -- I've got to settle for these small projects: collecting numbers, drawing maps, and scribbling what I see. It's an obsession that's been with me for years, and I'm happy to say that an essay I wrote, "A Writer's Guide to the Dialectical Landscapes of Dublin," is going to be published this month in gorse journal, issue no. 3. You can read a very short excerpt of the essay now, and though the issue is officially being published on March 23rd, you can pre-order copies of the journal. It's as stunning a book as you could want: attractive, compact, and brimming with sharp, beautiful new writing from Ireland and outside: essays, fiction, poetry, and interviews. I'm honored to be included in the illustrious bunch.

Here's a sneak preview of the cover, designed by the talented Niall McCormack.

#328: Dublin Allegory

Dublin

Abandoned, fractured, fragmented, carefully crafted yet weathered by time's brutal winds, found in a heap on the ground, set in Dublin, sitting there without any apparent use except for the inexplicable joy it gives me to gaze on from time to time, ignored by the public, bound for the dumpster if I don't pick it up and do something with it: oh my God, it's today's number, masquerading as an allegory for my novel!

New & Noteworthy: Dublin Invasion!

Right, so. A weekend trip to a place I frequent at least once a year hardly counts as an "invasion," but the news sounds much more salacious that way, don't you think?

There is news, readers, which is that the bane of my existence  the source of my drinking problem  my unpublished novel has been selected as one of the winners in the inaugural first novel contest sponsored by the Irish Writers' Centre. The centre received over 570 entries and I was honored to learn that my novel, Dear Dirty Dublin, was one of 20 selected for the honor. A full list of winners can be found here, as well as 15 writers selected for honorable mention. I'm flying myself out to Dublin next month to attend the Novel Fair, which will give me the opportunity to share my work with Irish publishers and agents. Whether or not I get any nibbles or offers remains to be seen, but I'm going into the weekend with great enthusiasm and curiosity. The novel's heart is in Dublin, and it feels fitting to return there. I would be very happy to find it a nice home.

To any of my Dublin friends, I hope you'll join me at Sweny's pharmacy the afternoon of Sunday, March 11, where I'll be reading from the novel and providing tea and goodies to celebrate the occasion. I realize it's unusual to give a reading in a pharmacy, but Sweny's (which prides itself on being "quite possibly Dublin's worst pharmacy") is a wonderful combination of used bookstore, historical diorama, soap mongers, and pilgrimage for James Joyce fans: Sweny's is where Leopold Bloom goes to buy Molly a cake of lemon soap in Ulysses. It's currently staffed by ridiculously friendly volunteers and kept alive by their generous spirit and shared love of literature. I can't think of a place I'd rather share my work.

The trip will be a swift one, but I'll be sure to fetch a few numbers while I'm over there -- and to raise a Guinness or two in sheer relief. Toiling in obscurity has its charm, but I'm ready to see what it's like to seek and find some fresh new readers. And naturally, should it find its way into glorious, pulpy, inky print, you'll be among the first to know. Till then, I think this sign says it all:

If this clock is broken, may it never be fixed.

#9: Number Nine... Number Nine...

Thomas Street, Dublin

#10: On Yer Bike

Portobello, Dublin

#12: Twelve with a Twist

Drumcondra, Dublin

#21: Dublin Drive Time

D'Olier Street, Dublin

While I have slowly surrendered some of my Luddite ways over the past few years, I still like to bemoan what I call the YouTube-ization of everyday life. Very few things in life are worth filming, and still fewer worth re-watching. This does not stop legions of so-called smartphone-wielding urbanites from whipping out their cameras to capture even slightly unusual events with the express intent of posting the clip online as quickly as possible: some dude breakdancing in Grand Central Station, or else the breathtaking magical holiday subway car -- an antique subway train fully restored to its past glory -- that unexpectedly pulled up today at the West 4th Street stop to take me on a rickety, surreal short trip back through time before dropping me off, bewildered, at 2nd Avenue. (Intrigued, New Yorkers? You can find out when to catch the vintage train here.)

Each to one's own, but I can't help pity these video vultures a bit. It's like they're ordering the fast food version of important moments: quality is of no object, only quickness, only grabbiness -- things must be captured at all cost. There's nothing worse than going to a great show where your view of the stage is obstructed by dozens of eager hands wielding so-called smart phones over their heads, the very LIVE show you are trying to watch getting its soul collectively sucked up by so many people out to document the moment. Recently, I reveled in watching the comic John Oliver cheerfully berate an audience member who was filming Oliver's stand-up routine on his iPhone. "What?" Oliver demanded, interrupting his routine to face the bright blue glowing light in the audience. "Is now not good enough for you?"

I confess I've been tempted to do the same, particularly when it comes to places I love. There are few things that make me happier than wandering the streets of Dublin, and once or twice I've been so taken with the view from the quays that I've filmed the length of the Liffey and the parade of blurry strangers tromping over the Ha'Penny Bridge, just so I could take a piece of the experience home with me. The re-watching, alas, is a poor copy of the real moment, and I find that my sketches and notes, with all their messiness and flaws, capture the feel of city better. (And nothing beats the moment itself.)

But I have to change my view on this a little after finding something cool on the interwebz: an interactive YouTube clip that takes you on a drive through the streets of Dublin. Driving in Dublin is not something I have any particular wish to do (give me feet or bicycle wheels any day), so maybe that's the salvation: I have no romantic notions to be quashed. Anyway, I found a neat little clip that takes you past D'Olier Street, where you can just barely make out the location of today's number (on your far left at :29). To my delight, the meandering route then snakes around to College Green, where you can see the bookstore where I used to work at the end of the street at 1:06. There's a whole bunch of videos in the series, and as you're watching you can click on the screen and go to other clips, essentially taking yourself on a mini drive through the dear dirty city.

Inevitably, more than five minutes of this sort of play would probably lead me into a depression (poor copies make me long for the real thing), but I still think it's a pretty cool concept. Curious? Go ahead and take the drive yourself.

#25: East Wall, Blue Skies

East Wall, Dublin

#27: I'd Want Graffiti On Me

Temple Bar, Dublin

#29: Coat of Numbers

Dame Street, Dublin

#33: Nuts!

The Liberties, Dublin

So every now and then when I'm out trawling for numbers, I turn a corner and happen upon one that actually makes me stop dead in my tracks, raise my sunglasses to my forehead, and say, out loud, "No effin' way." This squirrel-clad number (double threes, if you don't mind!) may be one of the best gifts the streets of Dublin has ever given me, and the dear knows Dublin has given me a great deal.

As for the scant verbal offerings lately, all I can say is, "Nuts!" I've been up to my collarbone in work and hope to re-surface more often in coming weeks to see you through the final stretch of &7 -- this year's version, anyway. Thanks to all who have commented on recent posts. I know it's late, but I'm replying to all your messages as I can. I always appreciate your stopping by.

#42: Cassidy's Pub

Camden Street, Dublin

#44: Pavement Gazing, Merrion Square

Merrion Square, Dublin

#47: Swoosh

Grafton Street, Dublin

#48: Chips off the Old Block

Smithfield, Dublin

#51: I'm Your Fan

Dublin

#59: Monotype Machine

National Print Museum, Dublin

#69: Smithfield Circle

Smithfield, Dublin

#74: Vins-Apéritifs

Dame Street, Dublin