my very talented friends

There has been something about the past week which has led me to rage incoherently, quite often drunk, to everybody in my immediate vicinity about the ignorance and chauvinism in the world. I must stop before I burst a blood vessel. Unfortunately I'm just a girl, and if I were to expostulate in this manner upon everything that offends me, I'd end up with ridiculously augmented blood pressure and no friends to hold my hand as the doctor tells me to calm the fuck down. So there will be no more apoplexies of rage - at least, until the next time somebody, somewhere, comes out with something preposterously out of line and I can't stop myself from laying the verbal smackdown.

As I'm going home to Ireland for les vacances de la Toussaint next week (I must commend France for one thing, and this is doing the Catholic thing properly. Less guilt, more days off), I've been thinking of how much I can't wait to see my friends again. This led to frequent stalking of their Facebook pages and bemoaning, drunkenly, all that I've missed while I've been living the life over here. That in turn led to wondering how it is that I ended up fortunate enough to have made the acquaintance of so many talented people. I count musicians, writers, artists, photographers, DJs, actors and film-makers among some of my closest friends. Graveyard of ambition it may be, Galway is still a dab enough hand when it comes to the flowing of creative juices. Our cup doth overflow, in fact. God, I can't wait to come home and bask in the reflected glow of their respective gifts, secure in the knowledge that I have none myself but that hey, it's okay, because we're all mates here.

The Indelicates said it best, absolutely anyone can play the fucking guitar. Sadly, not everybody does so well. I've been lucky, and have been exposed quite often (although not as much as I'd like these days) to the sound of people Doing It Right:

Lost Chord:
www.myspace.com/lostchordband

Elaine Mai:
www.myspace.com/elainemai

This Mellow Party:
www.myspace.com/thismellowparty

The Ralphs:
www.myspace.com/theralphs

Go Panda Go:
www.myspace.com/gopandagomusic
...for a sample, please see below (as well as a guest appearance from yours truly and the lovely Naomi Ní Chatháin, whose art would be featured here if it existed online)





My good friend Byron DJs weekly, spinning 50s-60s tunes upstairs in the Róisín Dubh on Friday nights, looking exactly the part himself. He's also in the early stages of a weekly punk/new-wave night downstairs with Fuz, which takes place on Tuesdays, I believe, and which I'm dying to attend. Byron's blog exists here:
www.byronsnonsense.blogspot.com

Josh isn't a bad lad when it comes to the tunes either, having been one half of the sadly-missed Substance in 2009, as well as DJing in Kelly's and presenting iTest on i102-104. He's currently going about the business of making a name for himself in London, where he'll do very well if they know what's good for them. His blog is here:
www.popgoestheradio.blogspot.com


My friend Yvonne's photography continues to surprise me, as she seems increasingly unafraid of new directions and is improving exponentially with each shoot in terms of skill and inspiration (not that she was in any way uninspired to begin with!) Her photoblog on Tumblr (who came up with this spelling? and for Christ's sake, why?) is here, along with a few shots of Ciara and I, who have been, and remain, only delighted to dress up and get foxy for the sake of fashion:
http://yvonneryanphotography.tumblr.com/

aesthetically pleasing orphans in a shed in tuam

still orphaned, but looking well

In short, Galway me manque tellement. It isn't, or at least I hope it isn't, that I'm whiling away my time in France wishing I was back home, in the rain, and the indescribable autumnal gloom, and the smoking area of the Róisín, with everybody I miss. It's more that I can't wait to see them all again, and since I will in five days, I'm allowing myself the luxury of missing people properly. While this country is beautiful and I appreciate every day how lucky I am to be here doing nothing (mostly) but enjoying myself, it would improve immeasurably if I could have everybody here with me. Unfortunately, the government would never allow it. The next best thing is to have a wonderful week at home, revelling in indecipherable Hiberno-English and forgoing sleep in pursuit of ALL the craic. One can only hope...

aww, here it goes...

The following, I'm afraid, has nothing to do with my adventures in France, unless you count my abject frustration at not being at home to do something constructive about it. Suffice to say, the depths to which the SIN newspaper has fallen disgust me. As the only student-run paper published by my university, the articles and "think-pieces" published therein serve to represent and also to influence the opinions of the student body. The fact that somebody has genuinely been commissioned to write an article entitled "Getting The Shift" more or less indicates that we're all fucked. 

After having read extracts from this disgusting, poorly-written piece of rubbish, I feel more and more appalled that NUIG would actually allow something like this to be published in an otherwise fairly reputable student newspaper. The article itself is laughably bad - the writer's grasp of grammar and syntax is ridiculous, as is their heavy reliance on idiotic, poorly drawn similes to create humour. Yes, scoring a girl is exactly like scoring a goal, you even put a ball in a hole! Oh, you! Your subversion and wit astound me. I can hold myself in check no longer - please, take me now. 

Oh, but Emma. You're not being entirely fair. After all, it's not the writer's fault that they're hardly worthy of the moniker, unable as they seem to string a sentence together in any cohesive manner. A person can be forgiven for having no discernible literary talent. What I absolutely cannot, and will not, forgive are the horrific attitudes towards women demonstrated repeatedly in this snivelling excuse for journalism - not least the fact that these are commended by the student population to the extent that they're published weekly. Evidently, it isn't just the budding journalist in question who feels this way; the article is followed, no doubt, by hordes of like-minded young bucks. According to the writer in question, if we do, in fact, want sex, we must get the girl in question intoxicated, separate her from her friends and lie consistently to her, talking as much bullshit as is necessary to convince her into leaving the club with us. Watch and learn, boys. This right here is a foolproof path to Getting The Ride - or Sociopathy for Dummies, depending on your stance. Honesty, personal charm and respect? Clearly, these all went out the window when the young men in question finally grasped the far-reaching consequences of karma-engendered erectile dysfunction. Or, you know, crippling personality disorders. I suppose I oughtn't to be surprised, lads. Of course you have to prey upon her like the repulsive, Jager-chugging vulture you are - isolate her from her friends, lie to her and get her good and drunk. You're a hideous cretin, after all. She'd hardly go near you under any other circumstances. No... no. Trust me. She wouldn't. 

I am impotent with rage that SIN allow this sexist swill to be published each week, and I place the blame as much on the shoulders of the editorial staff as I do on those of the writer and others of his ilk. Because this is not ironic, or tongue-in-cheek, or a witty little examination of contemporary male-female relations. It is nothing more than a poorly-written crash course in how to get a girl drunk enough that she doesn't realise what she's doing. Classy, SIN, wonderful. Keep it up. This is just what we all need to read on a weekly basis. Personally, I don't think I'm objectified enough as a female. I want more! Next week, could you provide an instruction manual for outright sexual intimidation? Or date rape? I mean, it's all tongue-in-cheek anyway, isn't it?

It is in no way impossible or unheard of for a man to abide by the premises  of common decency and consideration - I wouldn't enjoy healthy familial, romantic and platonic relationships with them if they didn't. For the minority of you who don't? Keep reading Getting The Shift, and articles like it. Because it's funny, right? It's irony. It's not meant to be offensive. Those stupid feminists will complain about anything. Then kick back and relax for the evening - go on, you deserve it after all those big words - with your Kleenex, your Vaseline and your Redtube, secure in the knowledge that you remain intellectually inferior and a worthless piece of shit.

apology the third

Most profuse apologies (again) for my lack of updates over the past few weeks. I'm no better at sticking to this resolution than I've been with any other in my life, and can only offer the excuse that the past while has been manic; grappling with the intricacies of French bureaucracy at least once a day, attempting to craft an appropriate timetable from more or less nowhere, and far too many nights out. The latter feels like something of a contradiction in terms, as they've all been fun without exception, but I fear my insides have begun to plot against me. The combination of vin mousseux for €1.09 and my paltry eleven acadamic hours a week may well have me out of commission soon. 


As such, I've been planning a few things to keep myself occupied over the next month or so (sure the drink is a curse). These include a journey to Poitiers next weekend to see my best friend, a visit home for Halloween (search for costume remains unfruitful, but I'm clinging to hope), and Arcade Fire in Lyon at the end of November, which ought to be wonderful, not least because they've sold out at home. French hipsters don't ever allow anything sell out. Insouciance is the order of the day, goddamn it.