Artist In Ireland

And here we are, the second week in this month of May and lo, but lots is busting out all around us.

Firstly I’d like to draw your attention to a woman who shares some profound insight to the stars and their meaning . I have borrow quotations from her website in the past and listed it as one of all-time round favorite site in 2009

http://priyakale.com/Priya’s site is called Cosmic Diaries .

Please visit it. 

What else?

I must tell you about a small project that was completed a few weeks ago. Since February my Friday night between 6:20 and 8pm have been spent with 18 girls ages 5 to 10 in Mohill at the Canon Donahue Hall practicing acting. We concluded our 10 week program with a version of ..

The Musicians of Brementown

by The Brothers Grimm

The weeks of work was a pleasure. I think all of those girls showed me a new twist to old exercises  and sometimes gave me deep down belly laughs.

They were all absolute darlings.

I wish them the best of holidays ever.

AS well there was some serious completion taking place in the

Brothers of Charity corner up in Roscommon where two young men have finished they’re FEATAC Level One Drama program and are waiting results. John O’ Hara and Conor Devine  experienced theatre and drama for the first time and did extraordinarily well.

bravo to you boys

Other events and goings on in and about auld Drumshanbo include the organization of the 2nd annual Written Word Weekend

Yup yup yup, we’re real pleased with this year’s line so far and we’re not finished with it yet!

 Some of the highlights in the Saturday night Cabaret with none other than The Poetry Chicks

Oh we are so pleased………………..http://www.myspace.com/poetrychicks

What else?? I got a nod from the local arts council . I was awarded a bursary to the Tyrone Guthrie Centre in Monaghan

oh yeah

Here’s a taste of the piece I’ve been working on. The working title is…..

Lucy Massacre, is it hot enough for you?

“Hey, out of curiosity, Lucy what’s
your last name?”

  “Massacre.”
She started walking briskly, or as briskly one could in almost 100-degrees
Fahrenheit. She finally looked at him with a tilt of the dubious in her eyes.

“You really believe in love at first sight?”

 “Your
last name is Massacre?” He marveled, slightly stunned but keeping pace.

            “Yeah
it’s Irish. What’s your last name?

            “De Vries.”

            “Stephen De Vries, Dutch?” He
nodded. She snapped her fingers.

             “Got it in one.”

            “You’re
a champ.” He winked at her.

            “Thank
you.” She leaned into him, putting her hand on his shoulder. The touch, like
cold heat melting. They stopped walking and turned towards each other.

            They
stood a kiss away.

            Then
the light shimmered strangely. They heard the sound of a pop. It broke into
their gaze and they looked around. They had walked out a back road where the
flat, unused farmland was dry and barren; beside a water tank on the outskirts
of town, where lived a family of unremarkable beings. This family was this way
because they fit completely into the landscape of cylinder and metal. Theirs
was a grey house, blanched rooftop, colour-less windows and door. Faded curtain
nettings hung limply. The skeleton of a long dead tree stood to the side of the
front yard that was not cluttered with toys. No clothes line, no dog. No
doghouse. No garbage cans small plastic bags of food and paper scraps. No car.
No truck. There was a bicycle but it looked like it hadn’t moved in long, long
time. The ground was dry. The evening was thick in its heat, yet smoke rose
from the chimney. There was the smell of defeat. There was an ancient water
tank behind the house. It was three stories high. And a sound that was almost
frightening, the sound of dripping water. Drip. Drip. Drip.

            “I’ve
seen the people who live here,” Lucy said in low tones. He nodded his head.

            “Tall
thin man and a whisper of woman, there’s a son too. I’m not sure, wonder who they are? Do you know?”

            Stephen
inhaled loudly. “This is Queenie Barber’s homestead.”

            “Queenie
Barber,” she repeated, savoring the words. “Well there’s a name for   you.”

            “Yes
indeed. Use to be fine place too, a thriving farm. Use to be. She and her son Everett and his wife and kid live here
now. I think Queenie is still alive. She was  friend
of my wife’s mother and I’m sure Flo would have told me if she died.” Stephen
replied with flat certainty.

            She
immediately looked down his arm at his ring finger and saw that there was no
ring. Then a cramp twisted her gut and she clutched her stomach bending
slightly with a moan.

            “You
okay?”

Concern was in his voice. The pain in gut was familiar, though it wasn’t
a sick bodily pain; it was a tension in her solar plexuses, a twisting deep
inside, a psychic ache. Though this felt more like a stab.

            “Got
to get out of here. It’s very heavy. Thick atmosphere.” She winced.

            “Heavy?
What do you mean? Do you think its’ going to rain?”

            She
tried walking briskly back the way they came. Suddenly there was a gunshot.
That stopped her.

            “Oh
god.” She turned, started a slow jog back to the house.

            “Hey
wait, where are you going?” He called as she passed him.

            “To
the house. That was a gun shot.”

            “So?”

            She
stopped short and looked at him in amazement.

            “I
only mean, so what.” He walked towards her. “Someone shot a gun, could be hunting rabbit.”

            “Could
be shooting family members.”

            “You
don’t know that.”

            “Neither
do you.”

            He
stood close in front of her, as they stood before. A kiss away.

            “You’re
not from around these parts are you?”

            His
voice was unexciting, bordering on tedium.

The shimmering light bounced off the
grey steel water tank moving around him like a mirage. In an instant he was
nothing to her. She stared at him and slowly shook her head. She was definitely
not from these parts. She didn’t know these people. They could be shooting rabbit.
She sighed inside herself. ‘Tough guy, bookish redneck, dink.’
she thought, rubbing her hand back and forth across her midriff. Then there was
the sound of another shot. They were both startled and looked at the grey
house. The front door swung open. A young teenage boy with drooping long hair
holding the side of his body came out. He looked up and down the dusty road.

            “Hey” He called softly to the two and slumped against the dry door. Lucy and Stephen
watched the teenage fall slowly like a dancer. He crumpled beautifully.

She
heard the sound of dripping water, three distinct drops. 

Thanks Leitrim Arts Council

( you crazy guys)

Okay lastly but certainly not least….

the AnTostal Parade 2010

Yessirreeebob

 You must come out Sundjay June Bank Holioday weekend at 6pm to Drumshanbo and see

The Magical Moving Zoo

 The Fourth class, Mr Kane’s class, is hard at work creating the images the whole school will use …

we certainly hope that everyone will come out

to this year’s parade 

Its going to be a cool one.

Right so , thats it from me for the moment.

No I didn’t go to New York but I did have an hour long conversation with someone from there so it was just like being in the city. And yes………………….

things are great. And scary

and worthwhile

 And I hope that they are for you as well.

Thank you for clicking on .

And thank you to those who have been leaving comments… my goodness, thats kind of you 

 All the very best

 always , eileen

Tags: An Tostal, FEATAC Drama Level One, Poetry Chicks, Tryone Guthrie Centre

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 12th, 2010 at 6:19 pm and is filed under An Introduction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.