via.

I really love Halloween, especially here in Ireland. I can imagine the dead spirits intermingling with the living, dancing around the Samhain-bonfires, and the Tuatha Dé Danann leaving their hills and riding across the land in a wild, unwordly hunt. Therefore I am bit sad that this year I’ll be in Germany for Halloween. But the good thing is: I can buy scary stuff for niece and nephew (and other people). And what better scary stuff to give away than books! So i’ve decided to follow Neil Gaiman’s example and celebrate All Hallow’s Read.

So what is All Hallow’s Read?
All Hallow’s Read is a Hallowe’en tradition. It’s simply that in the week of Hallowe’en, or on the night itself, you give someone a scary book.

Scholars have traced its origins as far back as this blog post.

Here’s Neil explaining the idea, with people getting murdered in the background:

So, who are you giving a scary book to this year?

Last week, I flew 1895 kilometres and landed in a rainstorm, drove through lava fields and past plastic houses, drank Brennivin and Viking beer, bought a shot and a record with an ant on the cover from an art rock band, dipped my hands into Snorri Sturlussons hot pool, visited a waterfall that was named after dead children, swam in murky blue water and smeared my face with white mud, had my car almost blown off the gravel road by a squall and flew another 1895 kilometres against Atlantic headwinds that almost made me puke. Takk fyrir.

Blablabla, I had first thought about writing another post about why there’s not much posting here at the blog at the moment. But then I remember something Dermot Bolger said when I met him two weeks ago: ‘I don’t know much about the internet, but I think that writing blogs and such things is keeping you from actually writing books.’ and decided to write a list why the coming October is a good month.

• A new Tom Waits album is coming.
• The Rum Diary is coming.

• A certain book is coming out.
• And, last and least, it’s my birthday in October. So here are some songs that I like, and I don’t care if you like them.

94 Hours by As I Lay Dying Official
Tom Waits – Bad As Me by antirecords
Foo Fighters – Rope (deadmau5 Mix Edit) by Deadmau5′
Beirut – East Harlem by artsandcraftsmx

Thank Odin it’s Friday.

Or: an update. Apologies for not posting anything the last week or so, I have been writing.

Mostly for Sonic Iceland, Le Cool Dublin and my, ahem, upcoming collection of stories. Stay tuned. In the meantime, here’s a new Tom Waits song. See you.

Tom Waits – Bad As Me by antirecords

91 today. Or so.

Image by IRevolt, via Kraftfuttermischwerk

“Monday a deputation from the parish of Bethnal Green waited upon Mr Peel to request that some measures might be devised to suppress the dreadful riots and outrages that take place every night in the parish, by a lawless gang of thieves, consisting of five or six hundred. The gang rendezvous in a brick-field at the top of Spicer St, Spitalfields, and out-posts are stationed to give an alarm, should any of the civil power approach, and their cry is “Warhawk,” as a signal for retreat.

On the brick kilns in this field they cook whatever meat and potatoes they plunder from the various shops in the neighbourhood, in the open day and in the face of the shopkeeper. Their outrages have been of the daring kind, there are now no less than five individuals lying in the London Infirmary, without hopes of recovery, that have fallen into the hands of the gang. Within the last fortnight upwards of fifty persons have been robbed, and cruelly beaten, and one of the gang was seen one day last week to produce amongst some of his associates, nearly half-a-hat-full of watches.[...]

It was reported, that Mr Sykes, the proprietor of the ham and beef shop in Winchester St, Hare St fields, had died on Friday in the London Hospital, of the dreadful injuries he received from the gang, but we are happy to say he is still alive. It seems that Mr Sykes had only set up in business a few days, when about eight o’clock in the evening, about twenty fellows came round his shop, armed with sticks, he suspected they intended an attack, and for security got behind the counter, when the whole gang came in, and seizing a buttock of beef and a ham, ran out of the shop. He endeavoured to prevent them by putting out his arm, when one of them, with a hatchet or hammer, stuck him a tremendous blow which broke it in a dreadful manner, it has been since amputated, and he now lies in a very bad state. The gang then went into a baker’s shop and helped themselves to bread, and afterwards adjourned to the brick-field, and ate the provisions in a very short time.

It would be too tedious to state the numerous outrages that have been committed, but there is reason now to hope, that the etsablishment of the horse patrol, and the conviction on Thursday of three of them, at the Old Bailey, for attacking and robbing Mr Fuller will be the means of routing them altogether.”

September 24th 1826

Completely nicked from Spitalfields Life, but to poignant not to repost. Stay save, London.

by zemch

The sky is as blue as I had expected. There are puffy, marshmallow clouds hanging over the mountains in the distance, and it’s hard to tell where mountains end and white stuff begins. At least it does not look like rain.

I take a sip from the beer-bottle and try to decide if I want to keep sitting here at the beach bar, listening to Italian pop songs and watch the waves inching up the pebbly beach; or if I want to discard beer bottle and flip-flops and do what I came here for: swimming in the Adriatic. The water is so clear, it’s not convincing to someone used to the slushy grey Irish Sea pestering Howth Head. Looks like a trick to me.

But then the local ladies seem to enjoy it, bobbing up and down in the water up to their hips, their skin already fried deep brown by months and months of Croatian sun.

I may even take the beer with me, sitting and sipping in the warm waters of this stoney bay in the south of Istria, like the biggest and most translucent bathtub in the world.

via broadsheet.ie