GuinnessAugust 29, 2012
I’m lucky enough to be involved with aerial performers PaperDolls, underground rock legends Estel and a host of varied and glorious others, in creating a Halloween spectacular, in celebration of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, and of Dublin city itself.
My visit there last week did not exceed thirty six hours, and in that time I worked to prepare as best I could, for the work I am to do – we are to do – on this show. Mid afternoon on my one day there, I took a moment alone, to enjoy some refreshment, and to write a letter. Here’s a short exerpt:
A clod of black brown so distinctly new from its known self as to be apparently off, on the tongue. Then look up to the glass, in accusation, whereupon doing the earth glows about you and re-embraces its brother – your guts – and you sink into the room, from the high of hype and ceffeine foam-clouds that have carried you, most of a day, on a breeze that now seems to be clear miles away, and there’s the drink in your hand, black, and the rest as well may be, for what will we do, now that Guinness is in the world, what can we hope to achieve, but loss, and celebration, and a dumb, dumb skull of relief.