Having my way with Ulysses

Why not? Suppose he gave her money?

Her laugh had taken on the tones of an organ, her breasts had succumbed to the tedium of endless caressing, her stomach and her thighs had been the victims of her irrevocable fate as a shared woman, but her heart grew old without bitterness. 8:48 pm

Instructions on how to monetize your body:

1.  Know your market and look to your goods.  You have renewable resources, hair, plasma, words, sex, and the non-renewables: a kidney and a limited supply of eggs. When it comes to hair, plasma, eggs, and a kidney, you have some control of their value in that you can manipulate the quality of your product, but not much.  Mostly you’ll be tied to the market price.  You have much more creative control with sex and words, so best to put your energies there and let the rest take care of itself, keeping an eye of course on fluctuations in the market.

2. Don’t sell in a buyers market. This sounds like economics but I’m talking about art.  Look at me: I’m dripping with skill, due to the maximization of my natural talent.  These things take time to build up so when in a down market, then practice practice, constant practice until the market turns again as all things do. You’ve got all the time in the world, so don’t feel you have to rush to market when a little refinement and fine tuning can mean higher value later.

3. Cultivate an eye for maximizing your earnings.  Start with the basics:  you must have the stage setting, the rouge, appropriate costume, position, music.  And don’t underestimate the earning potential of good stage name,  but don’t paint yourself into a corner being clever.  Dominae Trixie, for example, is a perfectly delightful name.  Brilliant, fun.  But you’ll get a very specific subset of Christian slaves with that one, so be sure your name brings you what you want to get.

4. Now here’s a little trade secret which is what you’re paying me for:  Everything goes down to the strength you give a man.  That’s the secret of it.  That’s what it’s all about.  The men they want to feel power; they want to be strong so be sure to call the boys men and call the men boys.  And don’t call anybody sir, they’ll wish you hadn’t.

5. If you consider the man’s position, and you really ought to do so just this once, the entire transaction much be horribly awkward for them ’till they harden.  The worst is when you find yourself with a man who doesn’t know when to get on with it.  He asks a question, he asks another, and now you are having conversation not excitation. Time is money so move the chit chat along unless there’s dirty talk you have them think they make you say.

6. The words you must speak to get the man to understand you mean “come in, all is prepared” can be the cause of half the trouble, I can’t stress that enough.  So use your instincts.  If you do get stuck in conversation, a change in venue might help and always use experience as your fall back. The men don’t want you to be parrot; none of your press a button and the bird will squeak.  They want a mouth in the dark, honey.

7.  If the man abruptly stops talking but does nothing else, for God’s sake don’t ask what he was going to say.  Such a rookie mistake.  Why give your power to him?  You want him to think he is strong, but you know what’s what.  So this is the moment you go the whole hog, say: I want it, something like that.

8. Flatter them.  What harm?  You can think of somebody else: helps pass the time.  Or even better, and this is my little trick, say things so the man thinks he is taking a woman from another man.  That’s what they enjoy most.  It’s the source of their strength to think they are a bigger man than the last guy.  Oh they’ll pay good money for that.  Ok, little sweetheart, come and kiss me.  Off you go to earn your keep and remember, your cause is sacred.  Now go.

And they beheld Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of the brightness, having raiment as of the sun

Quat Abraham, "god fal bifen, Quor-of ðe ofrende fal ben; Sellik ðu art on werlde cumen, Sellic ðu falt ben heðen numen; Wiðuten long ðhrowing and figt, God wile ðe taken of werlde night, And of ðe seluen holocaustum hauen, ðanc it him ðat he wulde crauen" Yfaac waf redi mildelike, Quan ðat he wifte witterlike. Oc Abraham it wulde wel quat-fo god bad, ðerted he it neuer a del; Yfaac waf leid ðat auter on, So men fulden holocauft don; And Abraham ðat fwerd ut-drog, And waf redi to flon him nuge.5:57 pm

Bloom, don’t say it man.  Don’t say it.  Don’t even talk to that one-eyed dick, he’s not worth it.  You’re gonna get burned.  You remember your kidney this morning, burnt offering for a god (you! Well now, we were thinking a bit more highly of ourselves then, now weren’t we).  We.  But baby, that kidney has taken on giant proportions, don’t you get it?  Take a look at yourself.  See what you’ve become?  Now see where you are flying to, like a shot off a shovel.  Right toward the sun baby.  You’re a holocaust.  Don’t believe me?  You think you’re on the rise?  Well let’s ask Isaac.  Isaac.  Hey Isaac.  Isaaaac!

Isaac:  I heard you.  I was hiding around the corner, you understand.

We get it.  Trust issues.  So Isaac, what was it like for you when your dad nearly, well,

Isaac: That’s ok.  Everybody asks, I’m used to it.  I mean, I should have guessed when he made me carry the kindling and he had a lighter and a sword and nothing to burn.

Yeah, that must have been weird.  What did you do?

Isaac:  It was my dad, you know?  I trusted him.  He said that the offering fell in the dirt and got all muddy.  Then he went on about how wonderful is the world to come and how great it would be to be taken there.

Wait, what did he say?  It fell in the dirt and you bought that?  I’m not feeling it.

Isaac:  Fine don’t believe me.  Ask Chitragupta, he’s got the transcript.  Chitragupta!  Hey, Chitragupta!

Chitragupta: [while writing everything he says and hears]  Yes?

Isaac:  Chitragupta, will you read back what happened that day my dad tried to make a holocaust of me?

Holocaust?

Isaac:  Burnt offering.

Chitragupta:  [writing] holocaust of me.  Holocaust?  Isaac:  Burnt offering.  Yes, here it is.  holocaust of me? Holocaust? Isaac: Burnt offering. Yes, here it is. holocaust of me. Holocaust? Isaac: Burnt offering. Yes, here

Chitragupta!

Chitragupta:  Abraham said “it fell and became muddy, where the offering had fallen.  Wonderful you came into the world and wonderful you shall be hence taken.  Without long suffering and fight, God will take you from the world this night.  And when you see the greetings given to the holocaust, I think that he would crave it himself.  When he knew it truly, Isaac was ready and peaceful.  And Abraham wished it well, whatsoever good or bad, he never thwarted it in grief.  Isaac was laid on that altar that men use to accomplish a holocaust.  And Abraham got out the sword and was ready to slay him now.  An angel forbade him and bore the child from the dead.  Then Abraham became soothed of his quivering, for Isaac loved him and didn’t blame him.  Behind, prepared, he did not notice fast in the thorns a willing calf that an angel had killed in Thor’s dwelling.  It was burnt in Isaac’s stead.

That had to be awkward.  Were you really ok with it?

Isaac:  Not really, but it makes for a better story.

Bloom, you paying attention?

Isaac: Bloowho?

 

A lady’s grace, gave and withheld.

To take care of oneself one must only study what is really useful in and for existence. Diogenes Laertius quotes these remarks of Diogenes the Cynic. The latter “was surprised to see the grammarians devote so much study to the morals of Ulysses, and to neglect their own, to see musicians tune their lyre so well, and forget to tune their soul, to see mathematicians study the sun and moon, and forget what is beneath their feet, to see orators full of zeal for speaking well, but never pressed to act well.”4:12 pm

Anima

Oh Christ why did they mount me next to the piano.  I may be inanimate, but I can still smell that one’s breath.  Ick.  And what kind of priest wears a beard?  Why didn’t they mount me in the dining room.  That one with the kidney disease eating kidneys (sweets to the sweet) has very nice breath.  He doesn’t take care of himself either, though.  Orders expensive whiskey then sends his son sir I did sir begging for money.  Hm.  At least I get to watch those two alive ones at work.  they get to move around.  Be warm, be moist.  I have to charm from my wall.  Lidia faded a bit but she’s back.  Look at her.  Holding that new one’s hand.  Yes.  Entice him.  Let him think he is the player and we are their harps.  Leave me here to hang around over the stench.  No problem.  It’s not like I have a choice or anything.  Oh my aching back.  Please, somebody give the guy a mint, some gum, an Altoid.  Something.  He does know music, I suppose he does have that.  But look around at all this disappointment.  Makes me want to fall right off the wall and crush myself.  Or somebody else.  That could be amusing.  Piano sounds nice, that tuner will have to come back for his tuning fork.  I could have told him; I saw it right there.  But nobody can hear me.  Well, except for you.  I exist.  And I know what it takes for me to exist.  I have studied existence, I get it.  All these broken people singing here, wrecked upon the bar reef, eating in the dining room.  Waiting.  Focusing their attention on the music.  They don’t know their danger.  Would be better for them to focus on their own lives and households.  They each think all is lost.  That’s the song they hear, no matter what tune they play.  But will they be persuaded to save themselves?  As easy stop the sea.  You who read me, can you be persuaded to save yourself?  What do you hear?

Better set an extra place.

1:00 pm

but as for the giant's head, or, I should say, the slashed wineskins, and the blood being red wine, by God I'm not mistaken, because the wounded wineskins are there, at the head of your grace's bed, and the red wine has formed a lake in the room; if you don't believe me, the proof is in the pudding

Not even Achilles can overtake a turtle

A Western traveler encountering an Oriental philosopher asks him to describe the nature of the world: It is a great ball resting on the flat back of the world turtle. Ah yes, but what does the world turtle stand on? On the back of a still larger turtle. Yes, but what does he stand on? A very perceptive question. But it is no use, mister; it's turtles all the way down.

9:15 am

Nearly burned my kidney this morning.  Molly smelled the smoke and I ran so fast to save it I stubbed my toes on the way down.  They say people, or at least mice at any rate, get cancer from eating burned meat so I gave the charred bits to the cat.  She got a little more than she expected.

All cats are kosher

Whats pork to you means meat to me.8:45 am

Molly particular about her tea.  Scald the teapot she says so I do.  Pour in the boiling water, swirl, dump, four spoons of tea, water in, let it draw.  I do it first then make my breakfast.  Pork kidney it was today fried in butter with lots of pepper.  Cat wanted it, but give her too much meat and she won’t mouse.  Plus she’s kosher.  They never sell pork cat food for that reason, cat’s won’t eat it.  Gave her the paper to lick instead.

Times 15, um

I have my reasons, I reckon.8:21 am

Prices look high.  $1.49 a pound, times 15, carry the 4, and if / = division neglecting the remainder and % = division keeping only the remainder and a = year%19 and b = year/100 and c = year%100 and d = b/4 and e = b%4 and f = (b+8) / 25 and g = (b-f+1)/3 and h = (19*a+b-d-g+15)%30 and i=c/4 and k=c%4 and l = (32+2*e+2*i-h-k)%7 and m = (a+11*h+22*l)/451 and easter month = (h+l-7*m+114/31 [3=march, 4=april] and p equals (h+1-7*m+114)%31 then easter date = p+1.  Hum.  Unsolved.  Let it fade.  Waiting behind next door girl at meat counter.  Name Woods.  One kidney left, nice thick drops of blood on dish with it.  Vigorous hips.  She has list, chapped hands, sausages.  Don’t buy my kidney.  Mother oldish, whacking a carpet with crooked skirt swinging.  A good swing at each whack.

Offal

Not that kind of relish.8:00 am

Oh the nasty bits the sweet sweet nasty bits.  Saw Anthony Bourdain drunk pontificating about offal again but oh god I like it more than he does.  Liver fried nicely in onions with mustard, chicken gizzards scooped with the blood from the bottom of a roasting pan oh that sticky blood, antichuchos grilled hot and just a little crispy, kidneys sauteed in butter with a bacon or most of the time without.  Oh yes the pork kidneys their fat uriney goodness plumping up nicelyinbrownbutteryummmm.