Having my way with Ulysses

Destruction of the fittest.

The question is, said Humpty Dumpty, which is to be master -- that's all. 1:48 am

Well let’s Humpty Dumpty ourselves through this one shall we? You’ve got him over here and that one over there, and here and there they’ve been until now they are adjacent spheres. How much of vesica piscis between? Well, we shall see if we reach the proper parabolic penetration. But what to fill it with? There’s the rub. This one subsists on oxygen and damage. That one has had some sort of bird gimbling at him, but pick and pick away little birdy, you’re making it easier for him to crack open and get real, though he does have plenty of it and doesn’t need to acquire much more.  Come to think, they’re both riding that particular train; no wonder they’re a little scrambled. You’d be too if your kings and horses and men put you together out of order. Now. Remembering it is already tomorrow we must act fast, like yesterday fast or the day before yesterday fast. And let’s fast: this is no time for eating. We are going to take what’s best of each of them and combine, forgetting the attributes we leave unchosen: we can’t make an omlette without cracking a few eggs. Oh, I shouldn’t have said that. They don’t know they are eggs. Right. Did they notice? No? Good. Ok. This one can see singing; that one dreams of gentlemanly farming a nice wabe under a shaded sundial, or did at one time.  He does dream of turning music into money, so there’s that.  Are you writing this down? We must work against impenetrability. Let’s manifesto that one. WE WORK AGAINST IMPENETRABILITY!!! That’s better. Though we mustn’t put all our eggs into the one basket, now mustn’t we. Let’s find the best crack and gimble away there first. So. This one thinks that one would be better off vesica piscandi (or piscia vesicandi as the case may be) with some sort of woman though a decent man would do in a pinch. Perhaps this one’s own daughter (being not a man but newly a woman)? Or wife for that matter.  She is, the wife rather, not the daughter being only fifteen, a still attractive married woman getting on for fair and forty, and might be partial to younger men given their malleability and willingness to learn (and to do what they are told if you don’t mind my saying) though they do have a tendency to get to their own 32 feet per second per second faster than one might prefer and nothing turns one off at a greater velocity than a man (or a boy rather) holding back.  Why ever do they think this is a good idea? Ever. Better to get on with things and bring in the wingman after to finish the job.  Keep the balls rolling as it were. How are we getting on? Filling that vesica piscis a bit out? Oh fuck me on the cross. Go ahead. No really, go ahead. Listen. Listen. Don’t wait for me kid, just let’s get on with it so I can finish the job with that one over there. He’s getting impatient.

You’ll have to rise precious early, you sinner there, if you want to diddle the Amighty God.

It was all very well to say 'Drink me,' but the wise little Alice was not going to do THAT in a hurry. 'No, I'll look first,' she said, 'and see whether it's marked "poison" or not'; for she had read several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they WOULD not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long; and that if you cut your finger VERY deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked 'poison,' it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.11:07 pm

Oooooh I feel a fight coming on. I feel us a fight a coming on.  Lord there’s a something a coming on. You hear me jesus? Your hear me Jesus? Jesus Lord Christ anointed son of the fullness of God our Messiah anointed in the blood of the lamb I feel it a coming. It’s a coming. Call down Elijah for us O Jesus, bring us the holy ghost into our bodies there’s a gonna be a fight. You coming long Jesus? I see Brother Dick, I see Brother Davy and all you beautiful brothers and sisters in this here tabernacle.  You sir, the guy in black.  Have you sinned against the light Brother Black?  Are you ready to declare your sins and be washed in the bloo of the lamb, Brother Black? The day is at hand when he shall come to judge the word by fire.  Yes Jesus.  He will come to judge us that the scriptures might be fulfilled. Elijah is coming. Shout salvation in Jesus Christ! Come on brothers and sisters and follow my pitiful endeverance to explain to you good sinners that we are all of us living in the last day. All that’s done is all for the kingdom of God. Feel it now brothers and sisters. Feel the outpouring of the Holy Ghost. You will be made whole by the power of Jesus. Throwaway your sins and blaze on to Edenville for Elijah is coming! Come on now. Come on all you harddrinking gutpuking bloodspilling gasguzzling facebooking tweettwittering existences. Bring your afflictions for He’s got a cough mixture for you in His back pocket and we shall all drink the blood of the lamb!

No later undoing will undo the first undoing.

"When I use a word," Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, "it means just what I choose it to mean -- neither more nor less." "The question is," said Alice, "whether you can make words mean so many different things." "The question is," said Humpty Dumpty, "which is to be the master -- that's all." 2:23 pm

I returned to Stratford.  Yes, done.  I had written speeches backwards turning (did I write them?) and filled them with wisdom, with laws revealed, and I spoke at length of the word known to all men.  All but me.  I returned weary, untaught by my own (was it mine?) wisdom.  List.  In the porches of your ears I’ll pour.  Beware of what you wish for in youth because you will get it in the middle of the path of life.  I wished for a tumble in a cornfield, excuse me, ryefield (they are both correct) with a shrew armed to the teeth with women’s weapons.  And her boar tusk wounded me where love lies ableeding.  I gained her but she took me.  My belief in myself was untimely killed.  I loved, but never without a wounding.  Goaded by the dark shadow of my youthful passion I sent my love in my place to woo a dark lady, he could play more victoriously the game of laugh and lie down, but that attempted dongiovannism by proxy did not save me.  She disguised herself as a man to escape her mistress the queen and undid us all.  She was ruined and exiled.  He was ruined and exiled.  I returned to Stratford a shadow.  A ghost.  My soul had been stricken mortally once before, here again poison seeped into my sleeping ear and murdered, I buried myself in my second best bed.  Those killed in sleep know the manner of their death.  Of course they know it.  Once dead, the creator endows the murdered soul with that knowledge to carry forward into the life to come.  I am alone.  I am the substance of my shadow.  I am the son consubstantial with the father of my own (my own?) making.  And the prize of my life’s efforts?  An auk’s egg for my head.  Watch me hatch.  Oh leave me be.