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Dear Dirty Dubliner
| posts about #jamesjoyce more → |
Dear Dirty Dubliner |
06/17/09
06/17/09
06/16/09
06/16/09
Joyce spent about seven years working on Ulysses. The same amount of time could probably see you getting a decent score. With luck.
I'm pathetic.
06/17/09
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Him: "She loves me."
06/17/09
Her: I love you.
He: So do I.
06/16/09
(If you can't delight, might as well teach)
06/16/09
No mention of Gawker in Ulysses. Closest we've got is "Gawky"
"Lipoti Virag, basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the chimneyflue and struts two steps to the left on gawky pink stilts. He is sausaged into several overcoats and wears a brown macintosh under which he holds a roll of parchment. In his left eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell. On his head is perched an Egyptian pshent. Two quills project over his ears.)"
This is a fun way to picture the bloggers here.
06/17/09
Another, from I believe that same episode.
THEODORE PUREFOY (In fishing cap and oilskin jacket.) He employs a mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature.
06/16/09
What I liked about the novel is how inadequate was everyone in their parts. Just like reality teevee.
Can anybody today even contemplate wading through the self-indulgent delirium of Episode 14 - Oxen of the Sun? Back in the Beat era, we were all bop prosody anarchists, but now, I tire easily.
It was a series of meetings by men, with few women, in pubs. They were much more literate than my set, but still technically alcoholics, and anti-Semites, most of them. Spoiler Alert: An older guy goes home at the end of a long day with a young man, and the old guy's wife fantasizes about the new blood. Then they make a teevee program out of it: Leave it to Beaver.
06/16/09
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That Episode 14 mired me this time, but good. I think, I'm 66, and there's lots besides a blizzard of the bizarre I haven't read yet.
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06/17/09
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-- Two Dublin vestals, Stephen said, elderly and pious, have lived fifty and fiftythree years in Fumbally's lane.
-- Where is that? the professor asked.
-- Off Blackpitts.
And ending with
-- And settle down on their striped petticoats, peering up at the statue of the onehandled adulterer.
-- Onehandled adulterer! the professor cried. I like that. I see the idea. I see what you mean.
I don't. And never have.
06/16/09
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Just home after a luverly day spent in Howth and this is pretty cool. Stately Buck Whaleys were downed by the mulitude. Offal was consumed. Laughs were had and stupid costumes worn by all.
06/17/09
06/18/09
The LES is pretty cool too though, all told!
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