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Ireland

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Ireland

Article

Ireland is a recurring place in the Collected Agenda archive, appearing 2 times across 2 issues between October 02, 2024 and March 12, 2025. The archive places it in contexts such as “there are no cool countries left: only Mexico, Ireland, maybe El Salvador”; “wild whimsical lovely Ireland was the cure”. It most often appears alongside Annabel Boardman, Cassidy Grady, Chloe Pingeon.

Metadata

  • Category: Places
  • Mention count: 2
  • Issue count: 2
  • First seen: October 02, 2024
  • Last seen: March 12, 2025

Appears In

None.

Source Context

Recovered passages from the original issue text. When the raw archive preserved outbound links inside the source passage, they are listed directly under the quote.

Ways to be sincere.
October 02, 2024 · Original source
I’m ill on Friday, almost too ill to attend Beckett’s TENSE but I’m expected at The Locker Room bearing little tins of nicotine mints and a box of art and so I’m going back to Brooklyn again. It’s a smaller crowd than usual at first, people get there late, people on the street outside are talking about how there are no cool countries left: only Mexico, Ireland, maybe El Salvador. They are murmuring to each other in fervent agreement and I wish it wouldn’t be weird to ask them their criteria for evaluation.
Inline links: TENSE
Rules for Clarity
March 12, 2025 · Original source
Monday Everything was chaos, really, and I got nothing done for days and then I sprung to life on Sunday all I’m-All-New-Like, and what a whirling Sunday it was, stretching gently running fast confessing not at Church but confessing lots at KGB Bar, becoming, no, reverting back to I’m-All-Exactly-The-Same by the time it was past midnight. And I should have gone home earlier, obviously. And there’s some decadence in these worlds I immerse myself in, or not the worlds so much as in me, me within these worlds, the way I react to them. And so there’s no one but myself to blame, really. But I do blame myself. And I am Actually new today. Or, at least, I Know things now. They are talking about songbird soup in my Irish Literature class. I’m zoning out, honestly, and then I zone back in because I hear them talking about “songbird soup” and it sounds so beautiful, I really perk up when I hear this thing about Songbird Soup. But then the next thing they say is songbird soup was where they would literally net three hundred song birds and boil them all up, and it was a symbol of indulgence, it was a symbol of grotesque decadence and a symbol of ounee. Songbird soup was the illness, and wild whimsical lovely Ireland was the cure. And here I was only perking up because I wanted to guzzle down some songbird soup. And here I am thinking about myself again. Tuesday Rules for clarity are: a long walk and methylene blue and if you have vertigo then just go home, because you can’t fight through vertigo, storming through manhattan, all these bright lights will just make you spin. I like alcohol when it is like a potion. You drink an elixir and then things become a bit brighter and more glimmering and shiny and light but, I think how the body reacts to alcohol can be indicators of other things. I’m trying to treat this like a blessing . If I drink alcohol and the potion works opposite and I become sleepy and forlorn and my face turns all red, then it’s like a hack to knowing things about the state of myself. You can know these things by noticing reactions more generally, but I have not been too perceptive. And reactions are only a hack if you act accordingly. I am trying to think of things in very simple terms like, I am reacting to this potion badly these days so, I will try different forms of alchemy, instead. I get to the party early today and the plan is: I will help wash the fruits before the guests arrive. "you going to wash those fucking vegetables or not?" M. says, when I arrive. "very wifey. Is that the most you've ever cooked?" He's right, really. I ordered avocados on this app on my phone right to my doorstep today. You eat foods whole. You try to walk in the sun to collect these ingredients, though it isn't always possible. It really is that simple. Sunday And then, there are other things too. Another party, this one in an Italian restaurant that is far too crowded for the occasion but fun nonetheless. The opera later, the opera this weekend which is good, nice, the set design of the Moby Dick opera is quite impressive but the whole ordeal is a bit much, the ushers and the $27 bad champagne and I was kind of a bitch because David got a double shot of whisky and the opera people thought he said double shot of espresso because who does that at an opera, and then he said no I meant whisky, and then I said oh my god David, in a really bitchy way. Standing in this weird room being weird and judging everyone else. But we stayed for the second act on principle, no one really wanted to, but we can't become people who chug whiskey and leave the opera early. We can't become, in other words, deeply unpleasant people. And it’s deeply pleasant in the morning. And I’ll find myself back at godforsaken KGB Bar in a few days, I presume. I'll find myself back in sparkly sunny strange El Salvador in a week or two. WHAT YOU SHOULD DO Wednesday, March 12 From 6pm - 8pm at Anton Kern Gallery — Love Poems opens; a group exhibition curated by Chris Martin.
Inline links: https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!7YdW!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F5e9e1a90-d265-49f9-b56f-d6dced143170_1200x1600.jpeg, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!_0z5!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F907d5a08-6aa8-4ad3-b62c-ae867e723c74_1600x1200.jpeg, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!cDBt!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F70c27da6-5588-4b2c-a1dd-e0113a11f50f_1600x1200.jpeg, Anton Kern Gallery

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