For each of the five years we’ve been in Dublin, we’ve talked about attending one of the Bloomsday activities that happen every June 16, but always found an excuse not to do so. Deciding that this year is our last in Ireland was the kick in the pants we needed to actually do something this year.

Early this morning we headed for Forty Foot at Sandycove and the Martello tower that Joyce used as the backdrop for the opening scenes from Ulysses. 40 of us climbed the tiny spiral stairs to the top of the tower and crammed in to listen to Irish actor Barry McGovern give his annual reading. While some followed along in their own copies of the book – all seemingly tattered, abused, bookmarked – others just closed their eyes and meditated on McGovern’s theatre voice, Joyce’s words, Molly Bloom’s bawdy stream of consciousness and the surprisingly harsh morning sun.

He can fly.

Spent some time yesterday in the cemetery. While facty was off looking for stuff, I took some photos.

This is the headstone of George Johnstone Stoney, best known for inventing the term “electron” in 1894. According to Wikipedia, he was the first to estimate the number of molecules in a cubic millimeter of gas. He has craters on the moon and Mars named for him (as well as a street near the cemetery, Stoney Road) and was a distant relative of Alan Turing.

Nerdtastic.

Bloggs and I had some time to kill before we started and that usually means food. We met Steve and his lovely wife for Indian food in Pasadena.

We sat near the door, though I had my back to it. Over Taj Mahals, we were discussing what mutual friends Lamonte Young and Philip Glass might have had when the conversation stopped. Abruptly. I noticed that the others at the table were looking over my shoulder at whoever had just entered the restaurant. Before I could really turn around, a party of about 10 filed by toward their table. One was in a wheelchair and I really only got a glimpse of his profile and then the back of his chair as it smoothly moved past us. No matter, I understood the silence.

Now, I’m not the type to get too star-struck. I grew up in Los Angeles. Movie stars and musicians are a dime per dozen. But this was a little different for a couple of reasons:

1. I’m a big geek. This is my Michael Jordan. Tiger Woods. John Lennon.
2. Its not like we traveled to Cambridge, England to find him. This is in a little Indian restaurant in Pasadena, California.
3. I have approximately one action figure on my desk at home.
4. Its Stephen freaking Hawking! He’s the freaking Lucassian Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge freaking University!

The rest of the meal was somewhat out of body. Bloggs was freaking and I was right behind him. We thought about approaching him, but then thought better of it. He was seated out of our sight, so we did our best to sneak a glance or two on our way out, but with little success. and while Bloggs’ subtle use of the cameraphone was smooth, the resulting image doesn’t capture what all the fuss was about.