Tuesday, June 16, 2009
history is a nightmare from which i'm trying to escape
Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:
-- Introibo ad altare Dei.
Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called up coarsely:
-- Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit!
"Bloomsday is a commemoration observed annually on 16 June in Dublin and elsewhere to celebrate the life of Irish writer James Joyce and relive the events in his novel Ulysses, all of which took place on the same day in Dublin in 1904. The name derives from Leopold Bloom, the protagonist of Ulysses. 16 June was the date of Joyce's first outing with his wife-to-be, Nora Barnacle, when they walked to the Dublin village of Ringsend."
to commemorate, you can have pork kidneys for breakfast, take a deeply satisfying dump, take a walk around the bay, attend a funeral, buy a newspaper ad, have a gorgonzola sandwich, go to the library, visit a hospital, have dinner w/singing, have a drink in a pub, watch fireworks, visit a hospital, visit a whorehouse, have a late night snack w/drinks, take a piss outdoors, spend the whole day lounging around in bed thinking about past/present/future lovers. that's pretty much what bloom & daedalus & molly do & things seem just fine. no matter how trivial, if we scratch down deep enough, the structures of meaning that hold the world together can be found. "to have gathered from the air a live tradition,"(pound)was what those pesky modernists were trying to accomplish.
But all they are all there scraping along to sneeze out a likelihood that will solve and salve life's robulous rebus, hopping round his middle like kippers on a griddle, O, as he lays dormont from the macroborg of Holdhard to the microbirg of Pied de Poudre. Behove this sound of Irish sense. Really? Here English might be seen. Royally? One sovereign punned to petery pence. Regally? The silence speaks the scene. Fake!
So This Is Dyoublong?
Hush! Caution ! Echoland !
- Finnegans Wake