Arts and Leisure

I took Ulysses to Phoenix Park yesterday.  We wandered for about an hour and a half heading west, bought a sandwich, and sat in the shadow of the park's Washington-Monument-looking-phallic-symbol.  Except they call it the Wellington Monument.

As the chicken and swiss and tomato and onions were digesting in my stomach, I look out Ulysses for a little exercise, worked up a good sweat in the warm sunlight, then laid down on the grass and fell asleep for about a half hour.

Well rested and nourished, we headed south and got lost trying to find the Irish Museum of Modern Art.  It was a confusing square of a building with a courtyard in the center and some nice benches to sit on and watch the clouds rush by.

My visit was rushed, but the highlight was Sean Lynch's DeLorean Progress Report.  It made me think of the corpse of Marty McFly being picked at by little fishes at the bottle of the ocean--he never should have gotten involved in Doc's fake bomb building scheme.

On the long, lazy walk back to the hostel and a dozen or so cheap pints, the sky finally opened up and drizzled a bit just when I thought I'd make it through a whole day here without any.  I didn't mind so much.  The cool spray was refreshing.