Having my way with Ulysses

Too full for words

How incomplete is speech, how weak, when set against my thought!10:09 am

What do you want, I’m eating.  I see you.  I see what you think.  You think that I am a dumb creature and I have no sense beyond this bag stuck to my face.  Damn all we might know or care about anything.  Keep us, drug us with feed.  Condemn us to a mine somewhere until we die, no hope of fresh air or natural light again.  No problem.  We only want our feedbag.  Is that it?  Look I may be no Incitatis with gold flakes in my oats and a high paid job, but I am more than you think.  I am real.  I don’t speak, no.  But not because of this bag, whatever you might say.  We see you.  You think we are gently champing our oats, regarding you silently.  We see you.  And I cannot speak for us all but what I see, what I’ve seen, freezes me to a solid and chills me to silence.  I’m filled with it.  Look at the things you have done.  Don’t you get it?  Look between my legs for a start.  What do you want me to say?  Incomprehensible idea.  If I were to verbalize something I would be placing myself into human rationality.  No thank you. You poor brutes.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.