moments

Up at six am to do a bit of arteekling. (The process of writing newspaper articles.)
Few hours sleep and then quick skite to South Kildare for coffees with German Andrea.
Return to the Chateau de Healy for tug of love with Yogic sister Marie over the Mammy. The Mammy settles tug of love by opting to have lunch with the Yoganaut instead of me. No accounting.
My nephews arrive over and give me a hug.
On to Dublin.
La belle Arabe in Stephen's Green Cafe looking very belle indeed. Me reading a newspaper and doodling. On one of the advertising pages there is a large pic of a baby on a white background. I give the baby a speech balloon containing the slogan in big black letters "As Salaam," which is Arabic for howya.
I then pretend to read the paper with the baby page facing LBA.
When I glance over the top she is laughing fit to burst a gasket.
Truly I am a man of simple pleasures.
Lu Yi arrives. She asks what I am doing for Halloween. Somewhat self pityingly I tell her I have no plans.
Quaff coffees.
I text my cousin Annie (the artist formerly known as Sculpticus) in Spain. I want her to translate a piece of Spanish for me. A charming Spanish person has recently introduced me to this particular phrase. Annie texts back that the phrase is a vulgarism akin to the demotic Anglo Saxon f word so beloved of English speakers.
It is indeed a rum world.
Ring the Brezzer. She is singing at a charity event next week. There's talk that I might read poems. I might if they pay me 500 squid.
Charity begins at the chateau, as we do say in the trade.
Arf, arf.
An hour in the library on Henry Street, putting finishing touches to the great Irish novel.
Soon European literature will be complete.
Collect my car about 8pm and get ready for home.
Fireworks are going off all over the city.
A thought strikes me.
I drive my car to the top level of the carpark which is actually on the roof of the Stephen's Green centre.
I am alone there. No one else has thought of this.
On four sides I can see the fireworks rising and bursting in the heavens all around Dublin.
Down towards the river, the pyramid shaped Ulster Bank building is outlined in red. A burst of green shimmers behind the trade union owned Liberty Hall tower. From the social housing blocks close on my left a veritable storm of incandescent light erupts. Over my shoulder a series of cannonades cascade coloured flame from a dozen different locations in the suburbs. The shimmering airbursts seem to stretch all the way to the Wicklow mountains which ring this city. The cacophony is tremendous. Fireworks of every hue are blurring in the skies all around.
At this moment the bells of Christchurch ring out pure and clear and valorous, gilding the din with glory.
And I give thanks to God for the gift of life.