Tuesday, September 25, 2007

The Dead

Woke up late today, about 11 am. Head spinning, slight ache. Go kitchen, get water. Go bed. Sleep.

Woke up again, at around 12:30. Matt came by and asked me if I wanted something to eat. I can't turn down food. Matt's a vegetarian. He put together some kale (greenish leafy vegetable) with sesame seeds and lemon juice, and stir fried some tomatoes and mushrooms with baked beans. It was fantastic. He mentioned that there's some places nearby to check out, a cemetery and the botanical garden.

Cemetery sounds fantastic. I head out, walking along a giant wall and arrive at the entrance. The first thing you notice about old world cemeteries... is that their headstones are gigantic and elaborate in a lavish, meticulous way.

Fuck Forest Lawn, I want to come here to die, a giant stone golem representing (in my case) my delusional greatness erected amongst the other stone monstrosities. Actually, I'd want to be buried in Forest Lawn, except I'd have a bigass Irish monument of awesomeness among the pitiously inconspicuous plaques in the area, just for contrast. And spite.

My apologies to those resting at Forest Lawn. You guys deserve great monuments to your lives, not tiny plaques with a name.

Prospect Cemetery is ginormous. When you're walking through the paths, it is a forest of stone and marble. People that passed away in the 1700s, 1800s. This is a very, very old cemetery. The age shows in a lot of the older stone, weathered away, stained by eons of rain and elements. Some of them are crosses that have succumbed to vines and foliage, cracked and broken on top of other graves.

Walking deeper into the area, you see sort of a round area with sort of depression in the ground, like a moat. Except, where water would be are lots of doors, most likely burial chambers. Each of the doors have two small holes. I was curious but neglected to stuff my eye into it. It seemed a morbid thing to do, invading the private chambers of those resting for eternity.

I half expect to walk into the church, and find a legion of demons, walking skeletons, and other demonic stuff.

Weapon: Cheap tripod.
0.01 damage, +2 to stupidity

On the way out, I passed what I thought was the greatest monument, a sort of gigantic stone shrine to the cardinal or someone of Ireland, long ago. Laid out in the design of a cross, as many of them are (Ireland is predominantly Catholic), it had four small angels surrounding the stone representation of the sleeping cardinal, lying on a stone pillow. He seemed at peace, surrounded by his winged friends watching over him.

Back to the flat, I decided not to visit the botanical gardens, and instead take a nap. Delicious nap.

That.... lasted the rest of the day.

Next, Kilkenny and the countryside.

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