The Treehouse

A festival too good for words.. I guess you'll just have to see me glowing next time I'm around, and then you'll understand. I could also show you some photographs, video, minidiscs, books, cds, stories, tee shirts... Looks like there'll be another in 2003, just so long as I don't screw up the immigration situation. Must find some facts on that... For now I'm sitting in Shannon airport, paying way too much to use this computer (but it's not like I need all these euros in my pocket when I get back to Jersey). I'm not quite sure how huge an impact this festival will have on my life. I know that I made a load of new friends in the past week, including Mr. Adrian Schofield who is officially invited to every event I ever plan in my entire life because he's just that cool. I know that a lot of my new friends made new friends, and golly, wouldn't it be grand to get them all together again next year. So here we go!! For now, I'm completely beat, and feeling mixed about going back to NJ. I could've enjoyed a few more hours in Mel's company, and thank goodness beautiful Jack finally saw the light (not a moment too soon). Let's pass these next two months quickly, Jack. I imagine the hangover I'm feeling right now has been culminating over the past 10 months. It's kinda neat, actually. My body feels exactly like my mind in this leaving Cork thing. Kind of cold and lumpish.

Of all the little gifts and miracles that this festival has brought, I'd have to say that one of the best was the visit from the hippies from Bantry. Like a surprise unmarked package from Amsterdam, these two pulled up in front of the house in their huge red house-van, for which they had recently acquired a futon. Home Sweet Van! These two shaggy-haired baggy-pants smilers play music together. She on the xylophone, and he on the mandola. She took to the dulcimer like a you-know-what to water, making me feel like the best teacher in the world because all I had to do was hand her the hammers, and within 5 minutes she was playing Banish Misfortune. I'm really looking forward to seeing my new free-livin' friends again!!

Well, I found out some of the inside dirt on Corkeye, saw a very funny Friel show (I WAS laughing, really! Even if you couldn't hear me!), witnessed an extraordinarily large chess match (or a few), and saw an amazing sunrise.... This understudy girlfriend role certainly works for me! Big hugs (and no kisses whatsoever) to Adrian for showing me new stuff in town and spending such a wicked fun evening. She's a lucky girl, A....on many levels. But I dunno... 37 and 373 are AWFULLY close.. ;)

CorkEye. It's About Cork. And about me and my clever little schemes to gain some kind of employment/residency in Cork. I figured that if I showed my eager little face all over their office for a few days, they'd eventually ask me to stay. Well, today I got as close as I could've ever hoped. They finally popped the question: "Well, can you write?"
Dad thinks I'm an excellent writer.
Hell, I've been writing all my life.
At this point, with the experience I've had, I oughta be as good at writing as I am at playing the dulcimer. Which isn't to say that I excel at either, but would definitely point towards the fact that I'm one of the biggest and bestest bluffers out there. (You're probably thinking, "but Christie, you ARE a great dulcimer player"... To which I'd say, "See? I even fooled YOU!")
"Sure I can," I told them.
And now I have my first "trial" assignment: a 300-word article on the topic of my choice. It'll probably be something which would file under the not-yet-existent Irish Traditional Music column, written by the not-yet-officially-hired Christie Burns. I've been doin' nothin' but making good impressions all over that office, so I suppose all I need now is for them to love my writing, and I should be on. I proposed to them that they take me part time as a writer and part time as the distribution team leader, because as I've learned in these past few days, runnin' around the city in a bright red tee shirt handing out free magazines is great craic (and great exercise). And that way there wouldn't be too much pressure on the writing side of things---at least not at first.
These days, I am all about creating niches and filling them.
What the heck is she talking about? www.corkeye.com

It's kinda strange when one friend tells you that another friend's father has passed away, and then tells you when the funeral is so you can attend. I never knew Kelly's father, but I do know Kelly. But I don't know Kelly quite well enough that she'd be expecting me to come to her father's funeral, but what a terrible time to call my friendship (or acquaintenceship) with Kelly into question and then rule it unworthy of my attendance. Much better to just assume I belong there, and go. So I went. And I took the best seat in the house, in between Mel Mercier and a baby with the hiccups.
And there's nothin' like a funeral to make you think of just about everything you know. I've heard that these Irish funerals can be a real blast, but I decided to leave the scene just after the mass and before the burial. One of the last things annouced at the end of the mass was the name of the pub where everyone will be heading after the burial, but I might just be heading out for a swim and some sauna instead.
It's bad enough that the sun STILL refuses to shine on this country, and that I had to say goodbye to Tommo this morning. Where will see each other again, Tommomi?

While America was out in their back yards cookin' burgers and chasing flies out of the potato salad yesterday, Cork was being drizzled upon, and I took the day to enjoy the great indoors. Went to an open meeting of local artists and arts events organizers, supposedly to discuss how to organize ourselves for the great 2005. Eoghan, the bartender from the Corner House who hates trad music, was the moderator for the meeting, and spent the whole 2 hours taking comments from the crowd (there were about 100 of us there) and trying to shush the token loud mouth in the front row who'd never raise his hand and seemed to have a comment about EVERYthing. There were all kinds of characters in that bunch... Folks speaking up about fair representation for artists in the city council, folks pointing fingers at various influential bodies for the lack of funding that actually trickles down to the artists themselves, other folks pointing out that complaining about money gets you nowhere... Some people there were asking what this meeting was really about. Motions were made, motions were withdrawn. Every once in a while some very eloquent speaker would get a round of applause at the end of some enlightening monologue. Words like "democracy" and "sector" and "agenda" were being flung around the room, and sometimes there'd be huge uproars with many people trying to speak at once. And I was sitting there thinking, how appropriate that I'd be in this very exciting meeting, full of both chaos and potential for a great organization to come of it, perhaps just a little bit like the meetings in Philadelphia in 1776 to draft the Declaration... And then how even more appropriate that the name of the man leading this meeting is Johnny Adams.
Of course, in a very Irish fashion, the meeting (in the midst of hot debate and high energy dialogue) ended promptly at 6pm, at which point a very dedicated group of us picked up our things and resettled into the pub across the street.

Another fantastic day and night at Camp LaVerna! [DING!] Er, another pretty swell day and night at Camp LaVerna! [DING!] Um, Another really weird night with Will and Tom and Stella and Emma and Christian at Camp LaVerna!
Tunes in the bedroom, big group singin' improv, and then down to the kitchen for some kind of fun we've never had before. [DING!] Down to the kitchen for some tea. [DING!] Down to the kitchen for wicked tickle fights. [DING!] Down to the kitchen to taunt monkeys.
Happy trails, Emma!! Good luck getting a tan in Israel (but really, couldn't you have just gone to Spain or someplace perhaps a little less war-torn like that?). We're gonna miss you!!!

Like one of those awful panic nightmares where "the big day" is suddenly upon you, and you're totally unprepared, one of my festival guests shows up at my door last friday night, wondering where all the activities are, thinking that the festival is the last weekend in JUNE rather than July. Oooops. But no harm done, Mary made the decision to stay at "Camp LaVerna" for the weekend (fest or no fest---then again, it's not always easy to tell). Seems the house has collected an extra guest each day since I've been back from Sweden. First Tommo and his brother (though Tyler stayed only one night), then Wesleyan Will, back from his European trek, putting my Swedish tan to shame! Then of course came Mary (who's practically a festival within herself!) and last night we added Emma to the mix. As usual, my solitude exchanged for a patchwork family. We had tunes and dinner together last night, invited our new favourite Kerryman, Jack. Then out on the town for more tunes and songs. Some exquisite playing by Christy Leahy up at the Gables.. Playing that would bring a tear to your eye (or mine). And Mary caught the final meeting of the Cork singers' club at Spailpin.
I must say, it's been a fantastic weekend... Seems like nonstop laughs and tunes. Tom and I went and tried out a few of those new Swedish tunes we captured. And Mary and I have gone around town to the various fest venues, making some visualisations and looking into the future. Couldn't have planned this better if I tried--having Mary down here for a weekend one month prior to the fest to share some of the excitement of what's to come... The week has been full of wonderful blessings. Certainly a perfect start to July, even if the weather still feels like early March. Speaking of which, New Rule at Camp LaVerna: Any time someone mentions the weather to you, reply with a comment about tunes. Example: Christie says, "Shit weather we're having, isn't it, Tom?" and Tom replies, "Hey, have you heard this tune?" I think we're starting to crack this code around how Ireland got so musical. Then again, is it our place to be crackin' it? Ah, another late night discussion topic.. If only we weren't playing so much music, we'd have time to talk about it...