Having my way with Ulysses

And thither come all herds and fatlings and first fruits of that land.

Standing on the bare ground,--my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space,--all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God. 5:00 pm

I’ll tell you what I saw and damn lucky I am to see anything.  I was just shooting the shit no big deal when one of those city trucks what do you call them came past with all its gear sticking out and damn near put my fucking eye out.  Thanks a lot motherfucker.  I turned around to say thanks a lot motherfucker and ended up giving the one fingered wave to Joe Hynes, you know him right.  I told Joe I’ve been doing a little goon work for what was left of Talents West, you know the places, Ricks before it was DreamGirls at Ricks.  I started doing odd jobs some side work from time to time for the Colacurcio’s around the time of the accidental fire Ricks had just after it got bought up.  Accident my eye.  Takes all kinds of meat to make a good sauce and that’s all I’m saying about what I know about that.  I know how to keep my mouth shut and one eye open.  So Joe says we should go see the Citizen at the Cyclops see if he can stand a drink if he isn’t too shitfaced blind already.  So we walked to the Cyclops, the new one not the old place anymore you see by way of the market in by the newstand papers and magazine racks postcards of the Space Needle and Ranier and past Delaurentis cheeses olive oils pastas meats cured and the daily dozen doughnuts of cinnamon and plain or sprinkled round the corner of flying fish, overpriced with a stunt fish the same stunt fish over and again tossed daily for tourists with cameras Nikon Cannon Olympus Pentax Sony Samsung and Rachel pig bronze sat upon with a slot for coins etc. smelling of Market Spice teas herbs past stairs down under to skybridge over then crabs cooked and salmon Copper river now in King Coho Sockeye and Chum and no wild Steelhead by mussels spot shrimp and smoked and fresh of all descriptions past lavender bunches dried and lotions salves lavender lip gloss body butter and Uli’s sausages near onions of red and white and yellow beans peppers red green yellow orange carrots lettuce curly or flat lovage mizuna kale green or rainbow spinach potatoes salad onions sugar snap peas raabs various artichokes baby and adult brussels sprouts beets and greens of beets collard greens cabbage radishes red or french breakfast arugula asparagus baby bok choy celery root chickweed cilantro garlic dandelion greens parsley rhubarb sunchokes turnips squash blossoms including and not limited to zucchini fiddleheads mushrooms fresh and dried raspberries apples pears no fresh cherries but chives mint parsley rosemary sage thyme flowers tulips pink purple fuscia red white yellow puce and t-shirts same colors postcards, paintings carved things magnets Space Needle bags jewelery and raining some past crack park odoriferous urine with the totems cedar carved fifty or sixty feet and eye in the sky and sharpened at the top.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

The bloody mongrel let a grouse out of him would give you the creeps.

His eyes are bloodred; greasy, black, his beard; his belly bulges, and his hands are claws; his talons tear and flay and rend the shades.5:06 pm

Arrgh I saw it all and played my part in it too. I’ll tell you but you won’t look my way except to complain about my noises and let’s look at the truth now, my smell. But I’ll tell it anyway just so I have my say. I was lying on the floor next to my person as always, passing the time with him and waiting for what the sky would drop in the way of food. Well in walked a couple of em both I’d like to take a good bite of but I waited for the signal you understand. One of them came out with money for beer talking about he got it on a tip from some prudent member I heard him say. Give me a minute. Scratch. Aye. Damn I could sleep. What do you want? You don’t smell like you have much on you. Where was I? One of them saw the guy in the market looking at the fish. And believe me, I smelled him coming a mile away. Look I’ll say more but you’re not listening to me, I smell you. I smell biscuits too. They yours? You don’t care. All eyes on the citizen. Well, I’d keep an eye on me if I were you; I’m getting hungry.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Squeezed up with the laughing

Weeping shouldst not thou be when man falls but that divine scheming ever adoring be. So you be either man or mouse and you be neither fish nor flesh.5:10 pm

I tell you I don’t think anything could have beat it for entertainment, I swear to Christ. You should have seen it.  I still can’t stop laughing what with Breen running all over hell like a lunatic idiot in his slippers and his wife chasing after, and Doran drunk and blubbering about God and dead Dignam and Christ and one eyed Moses I’m still not sure he’s dead or they’re just busting my balls, and then the citizen wanting to crucify Bloom dancing around bizarre outside just give him a reason and he gave him one.  Jesus H. Christ where do I start!  My sides.  Oh I can’t breathe.  I’m sorry.  I can’t.  It’s just too funny.  You had to be there.  Give me a minute.  I’ll tell you.  Give me a minute. Where do I.  Holy Christ.  I’ll be needing another beer for this.  So.  So.  Shit I can’t breathe.  Breen.  O hell!  Breen wants to sue for lib.  I can’t.  Libel.  He waited outside John Henry Menton’s empty office half the morning then went to Goulding’s to see if somebody there wouldn’t piss themselves laughing in his face.  O God I can’t.  It’s just too.  And then.  And then.  Hoo.  Ok.  Ok.  Let me drink this.  Yeah.  And then Tom Rochford sent him to Long John Fanning and holy Jesus you can imagine how that went!  Whooo.  Tears in my fucking eyes.  I haven’t laughed this hard.  And now he’s looking for a cop.  What a dumb ass!  Such a douche.   And all because somebody sent him a postcard.  God it’s beautiful.  U.P.: Up!  Can you just?  I swear to God.  People think I’d done it but damnit I wish I had.  Beyond funny.  There’s more.  I’ll tell you the story but I.  I.  I gotta stop laughing first.  Give me a minute.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

They didn’t want that kind of talk in a respectable licensed premises.

Poor Joseph, God is a hard act to follow.5:13 pm

[Scene: Just after hours at the offices of Holy Mother Public Relations, Empyrean Building, Conference room whatsits. You know the one. Near whatdoyoucallhim. Around the ideal form of a conference room table sit Cassandra, Lizzy Twigg, Māyā, Banba, Jupiter, Mars, and Paddy Dignam. Mary, known to the world as the Holy Mother of God, Holy Virgin of virgins, Mother of Christ, Mother of the Church, Mother of divine grace, Mother most pure, Mother most chaste, Mother inviolate, Mother undefiled, Mother most amiable, Mother most admirable, Mother of good counsel, Mother of our Creator, Mother of our Savior, Virgin most prudent, Virgin most venerable, Virgin most renowned, Virgin most powerful, Virgin most merciful, Virgin most faithful, Mirror of justice, Seat of wisdom, Cause of our joy, Spiritual vessel, Vessel of honor, Singular vessel of devotion, Mystical rose, Tower of David, Tower of ivory, House of gold, Ark of the covenant, Gate of heaven, Morning star, Health of the sick, Refuge of sinners, Comforter of the afflicted, Help of Christians, Queen of angels, Queen of patriarchs, Queen of prophets, Queen of apostles, Queen of martyrs, Queen of confessors, Queen of virgins, Queen of all saints, Queen conceived without original sin, Queen assumed into heaven, Queen of the most holy Rosary, Queen of families, Queen of peace, and CEO of Holy Mother Public Relations Inc., is standing at the door irritated as it is enough already with the honorifics so just shut up for the love of Christmas and let her call it a day already.]

Mary: Ok, so.

Lizzie Twigg: [Effusively] Holy Mary, Mother of God, Blessed art thou among

Mary: Yes, Yes. Well. If you have all that you need I’ll just be

Lizzie Twig: Yes I think so. Would be nice if the light was a bit more ruby in color, but can’t have

Mary: Oh please, there are bigger disappointments to contend with. Believe me, I know all too well. Lighting is nothing. Thy will be done.

[Increasing luminosity of ruby light becomes gradually visible]

Lizzie Twigg: Thanks! That’s wonderful, thank you so much, blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy

Mary: [Exiting] Yes, great. Leaving. If I have to hear again about my fruitful womb I’ll rip it out myself and slap somebody with it, I swear to God I will.

Cassandra: Thank Jupiter she’s gone!

Jupiter: You’re welcome.

Cassandra: I’ve been dying to vent about her idiot son, thank Jupiter you thought of borrowing this room Lizzie, I don’t think I could stand another séance with Jesus as Stage Manager.

Jupiter: You’re welcome. Assistant Stage Manager. Is that why we aren’t on God’s stage?

Lizzie Twigg: Amen Cassandra. And Jupiter, well, that whole issue is better left unsaid for now. So, let’s get on with it then. We might need to change our placement around the table. Mars, Jupiter, you are sitting on the wrong side of Māyā.

Cassandra: Agreed. They are making mischief with the vibrations.

Māyā: मय सोन इस अन एक्ष्केल्लेन्त स्तगे मनगेर.

Mars: [Combative] But Buddha’s not Equity.

Banba: Krak!

Cassandra: Banba, that’s really unhelpful. Not that it matters, this séance isn’t going to work. Can you please return to human form so we can get on with it.

Banba: [Shedding black feathers everywhere and reappearing as a hag in a red cloak with red eyebrows and wailing.] Fine. But when you need somebody to fly through mirrors or some other nonsense don’t come flapping to me.

Paddy Dignam: [Only partially aware of his surroundings] Who are you people? What the hell is this? Did that bloody bird just turn into a woman?

Cassandra: Relax honey, you’re dead. It will be ok.

Paddy Dignam: Who’s dead? I’m no more dead than you are.

Cassandra: Oh sweetheart, believe me, you’ve kicked the bucket. You’re dead. You have ceased to be. You have shuffled off this mortal coil. You’re gone. Bereft of life. Resting in peace. Defunct. Deceased. Belly up. Worm food. Pushing up daisies. History. Passed over, on, and away. Expired. Croaked. Departed. Snuffed it. Bit it. Met your maker. Crossed over. Bought the farm. Checked out. Perished. Cut off. Extinct. Lifeless. Liquidated. Honey, they took the liberty of burying your body about six feet under and it’s currently being eaten by rats.

Banba: Decomposing nicely, I gather.

Māyā: हे इस सुफ़्फ़ेरिन्ग उन्देर अन इल्लुसिओन्. मय्बे गिवे हिं सोमेथिन्ग तो द्रिन्क ?

Cassandra: Would you like something to drink?

Paddy Dignam: Buttermilk

Māyā: दिस्गुस्तिन्ग.

Cassandra: Jupiter?

Jupiter: Son?

Mars: [Producing buttermilk] Here you go, you pansy.

Lizzie Twigg: Ok, people, can we get on with it. Banba, you can be a raven if you want, I don’t think it will disrupt the séance.

Banba: Krak!

Lizzie Twigg: Right. So we are making another attempt to bring back AE. He resurrected himself too long ago now for anybody’s comfort and he must be decomposing badly by now. Also, knowing him, he has plans to disrupt the great divide between the living and, well, us.

Cassandra: The dead.

Paddy Dignam: [Flabbergasted] I beg your parsnips, I’m not dead.

Cassandra: Yes, you are dead.

Paddy Dignam: I’m not!

Cassandra: Fine, don’t believe me. Whatever. Om Mani Padme Hum.

Lizzie Twigg: So the idea is to develop a window to the other side, so we might see AE as if in a mirror dimly, and perhaps persuade him to come back. Mr. Dignam here being newly deceased

Paddy Dignam: I’m not dead!

Lizzie Twigg: Being newly deceased Mr. Dignam will have a particularly lifelike etheric double, so he might be able to speak most clearly to AE and relay a message from us. Ideally we would need the finest man, with the finest purest character, the noblest, the truest.

Cassandra: But Dignam will have to do.

Lizzie Twigg: Well, yes. So, Cassandra, are you ready?

Cassandra: [While fluttering her hands] Oh AE, returned falsely to mortal haunts, sun of our morning, fleet be your foot on the bracken: AE of the beamy brow. Wail Banba with the wind.

Banba: Krak!

Māyā: लूक, अ दिं मिर्रोर, इ सी हिं !

Lizzie Twigg: AE! Ok, Mr. Dignam, stick your head in there and tell him to come back!

Cassandra: We call upon the etheric double of Paddy Dignam to speak his message to the living.

Paddy Dignam: [Inserting his head into the mirror] Alf! Alf Bergan! If you see my son tell him my boots are behind the commode!

Cassandra: Oh Christ, haul him back in. I told you this wouldn’t work.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

It was standing up in their faces like a poker.

ESTRAGON: What about hanging ourselves? VLADIMIR: Hmm. It'd give us an erection. ESTRAGON: (highly excited). An erection! VLADIMIR: With all that follows. Where it falls mandrakes grow. That's why they shriek when you pull them up. Did you not know that? ESTRAGON: Let's hang ourselves immediately!

5:16 pm

The phenomenon in question call it priapism or the more colloquial “angel lust” is a rather common phenomenon in the case of death either swift or violent or even face down. In particular, this particular and most natural phenomenon occurs in at least one case out of three, particularly in the event of hanging or the rather more archaic and rare phenomenon of crucifixion. Do you have a light? Indeed this phenomenon is well known to scientists, even phenomenologists in that they agree that the phenomenon of erection is a passive action. In fact, when men do not have erection, the penis makes a phenomenal effort: the smooth muscles of the arteries at the base of the penis must stay contracted in order to impede the phenomenon of the blood filling the penis to phenomenal proportions. Indeed, mazime aphrodisiacs, possidet viagra, continent chemicals quod relaxat haec musculi.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Blimey it makes me kind of bleeding cry, straight, it does.

Then they all got blind dhrunk - which complated their bliss, And we keep up the practice from that day to this.Seventeen o’clock

On the first day of June it was some people say,
That old Bloom got a check for some work it was pay.
He bought for dear Molly garters violet and fair
But that fat heap he married hrumphed “why just one pair?!”
Well now Bloom he does try, and mistakes will be made,
But do we blame poor old Poldy for plans poorly laid?
My dear Mrs. Marion, ’tis only too true
Your man is in peril, mocked, scorned, and he’s blue!
 
 
You don’t grasp my point, what I’m meaning is thus:
While Molly’s post-coital, Bloom’s making a fuss.
He’s stirring up trouble, poking giants in eyes
Will it end well for Poldy? There’ll be no surprise.
While he longs for his Molly (though soon visits another)
Foes want to harm him, beat, hang, maim, and smother!
They’ll string him from tree limbs! They’ll maul him I swear!
They’ll brain him with biscuit tins flying through air!
 
 
Now please don’t be fightin’ for this or for thine,
Don’t be so dividin’, come on let’s combine!
Molly, he gave you lone garters ’tis true,
But he brought you face lotion and four handkerchiefs too
He’ll bring you more lotion if he remembers besides
But poor Poldy’s hit bottom and downward he slides.
Treat him gently, with kindness, bring him breakfast and treats.
And for Christ’s sake, Madam Molly, at least wash the sheets!
 

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

He golloped it down like old boots and his tongue hanging out of him a yard long for more.

Buy bran biscuits and you'll never say dog.5:20 pm

Ok.  I get it.  You can’t cure somebody of desire.  A taste, they want more.  Sicken them with excess of it, they want more.  Train them by kindness, they want more.  Teach them the evils of it with don’t you see and but on the other hand and they want more.  A few bits, hungry for more.  Breeding, doesn’t matter.  Intelligence, doesn’t matter.  More.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

The canine original, which recalls the intricate alliterative and isosyllabic rules of the Welsh englyn.

Claddwyd Cilhart celvydd, ymlyniad / Y’mlaenau Eivionydd; / Parod ginio I’w gynydd. / Parai’r dydd, yr heliai Hydd! (Buried here is skilled Cilhart, with affection throughout Eifionydd. Ready to increase dinner, would like this day some salted stag!)5:26 pm
 
A master of Cyanthropy (Christ’s crutch!)
Call me Owen Garry.
Your leg looks fine for a pee;
First water as I’m thirsty.
 
 
 

2 Responses to The canine original, which recalls the intricate alliterative and isosyllabic rules of the Welsh englyn.

  1. I don’t know how to contact her directly. I see that helendahlhansen.com expired May 17, 2013, last updated from Denmark about 5 months beforehand, if that helps you.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

If judged by the standard of mere time.

And thereto I plight thee my troth.5:30 pm

I’m just glad he didn’t puke on me.  If Doran is admiring or advising her rather, then I should come out top dog.  Tell her he’s sorry about her trouble, he says, sorry he was too stinking drunk to go to the funeral.  Willy!  Poor Doran.  Had bad luck there, and now he has his life long to pay for it.  And no way out of that family.  But Martin asked me specifically to go to the house given my experience in these matters.  I can advise her.  She can rely on me.  Take care of everything.  Insurance run on the same principle as the lottery and Hell, you understand.  There’s luck, and there’s always a work around.  And there is that loophole for her if we can work it right.  Helps to have a friend in court.  Dignam did owe the money, but we can still get the company to pay the widow, if handled properly.  She’s still young.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Gob, he’d have a soft hand under a hen.

Akasic Records Office
Foot and Mouth Disease Committee Meeting Minutes
The meeting was called to order at 5:33 pm
Secretary: Lord Chitragupta
 
Present: Mr Knowall, Black Liz, Good Uncle Leo, Hairy Iopas, Joseph Patrick Nannetti
 
The minutes of the previous meeting stand approved as corrected.
 
 

Joseph Patrick Nannetti moved to consider the motion that the proper remedy for Foot and Mouth disease and similar diseases infecting local cattle such as timber tongue, scab, hoose, kennel cough, condylomata acuminata, TBA, and acute neurocortical emphasitis, be immediate slaughter, though no medical evidence is forthcoming as to their pathological condition.

Good Uncle Leo moved to amend the motion to indicate that foul be included with the bovines in the disease eradication plan.

Black Liz raised a point of information:  Ga Ga Gara?!

Mr Knowall moved to amend the motion that the committee consider shipdip for the scab and hoose drench for coughing calves, a known remedy exists for timber tongue and whatever be the case the proper course of action must include the most humane methods, because the poor animals suffer.

Hairy Iopas raised a point of information, what about condylomata acuminata, TBA, and acute neruocortical emphasitis?

Joseph Patrick Nannetti moved to amend the motion that as for CA, TBA, and ANE, they are SOL.

Black Liz moved to amend the motion that Klook Klook klook.  Gara. Klook Klook Klook.  Ga ga ga ga Gara.  Klook Klook Klook.

Hairy Iopas raised a point of information: does anybody know what that damn hen is talking about?

Mr Knowall raised a point of information:  would the committee be so kind as to indulge his translation of Black Liz’s amendment concerning a letter she had scratched out of a garbage heap being a defence of fowl as follows:  Lead, kindly fowl!  They always did: ask the ages.  What bird has done yesterday man may do next year, be it fly, be it moult, be it hatch, be it agreement in the nest.  For her socioscientific sense is sound as a bell, sir, her volucrine automutativeness right on normalcy; she knows, she just feels she was kind of born to lay and love eggs (trust her to propagate the species and hoosh her fluffballs safe through din and danger!); lastly but mostly, in her genesic field it is all game and no gammon; she is ladylike in everything she does and plays the gentleman’s part every time.

Good Uncle Leo raised a point of information:  You is feeling like you was lost in the bush, boy?  You says: It is a puling sample jungle of woods.  You most shouts out:  Bethicket me for a stump of a beech if I have the poultriest notions what the farest he all means.

Joseph Patrick Nannetti moved to amend the motion: don’t hesitate to shoot.

Hairy Iopas moved to close debate and vote immediately on the pending question.  Motion carried.  Aye:  Mr. Knowall, Good Uncle Leo, Hairy Iopas, Joseph Patrick Nannetti.  Nay: Black Liz.

Unfinished Business:  A member of the committee to be selected to read the letter authored by Mr. Deasy topic: foot and mouth disease, publication pending.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Made him puke what he never ate.

I'm a fighter. I believe in the eye-for-an-eye business. I'm no cheek turner. I got no respect for a man who won't hit back. You kill my dog, you better hide your cat.

5:36 pm

Money May is more famous but the people wanted Cotto.  The people were there for Cotto.  He didn’t have 50 Cent, he didn’t have Justin Bieber what the Christ was that kid doing there, but he had the people.  And he was bigger in the ring, did you see the size of him next to Mayweather?  He looked good.  And he made up for the Mayweather promotions guys who stunk up the undercard.  Carlos Quintana knocked out Latimore with one eye shut and I wish I had both eyes shut watching Jessie Vargas.  Mayweather came out first few rounds with his 1-2 punches.  Cotto, I don’t know man, his strategy looked aggressive but just not enough action, you know?  We were waiting for the action.  Mayweather may be more famous and he got like, what, like four times the money they promised to Cotto no matter who won, but look, he was  still the challenger in this shit.  Cotto had the title, man, he’s the WBA Junior middleweight champion, his shit’s for real.  And if you don’t believe me look at round 5, round 6.  Cotto owned it.  He owned it.  He came out mean round 5 and had old (and I mean OLD) Money May in the corner fast.  May comes out, Cotto gets him right back in that corner.  And a bad ass left eat that Mayweather!  Round 6 and our boy’s comfortable.  He’s el jefe now and his hook style’s something to see, bouncing on his toes a lot too.  But it was those flurry in round 8 that had the people screaming.  Mayweather shaking his head.  Mayweather laughing.  Mayweather bleeding.  Oye Pretty Boy Floyd, not so pretty now with blood falling out your nose, eh?  He nervous.  He scared.  Pobrecito thinks he’s going to lose in his own ring.  And the thing is, I think he did.  Look at round 8.  Easy for Cotto.  Those two stiff uppercuts.  Come on bro, look at round 10.  Cotto’s for sure.   Those combinations in round 11.  Show off all you want Mayweather, but one 2-1 punch doesn’t get you that round.  He was fighting a bad fight and fell back on showmanship.  Score it for me judges, I’m paying your salary.  If I pretend to be winning then you can score it for me and maybe sleep at night too.  And they did.  117-111, 117-111, 118-110.  What the fuck?  No wonder Cotto left the ring and no interview.  Damnit man, he was robbed.  Mother fucking robbed.  If it had been Mayweather’s exact performance but a different fighter’s name, Cotto would have won by decision.  You don’t think so?  Watch it agian.  Look at it again.  Keep both eyes open this time.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Mrs B. is the bright particular star, isn’t she?

The time will soon come when her last notes sound and die into silence. She is a small episode in the eternal history of our people, and the people will get over the loss of her. 5:38 pm

Yes.  And he’s an excellent man to organize it.  The tour, you see.  It starts up north.  A summer tour, will be a nice holiday.  Who’s in it?  My wife, so far.  So far.  I believe Boylan is adding some rather famous, locally famous you understand, particularly well-known talent.  He’s organizing it.   Really it is just one show.  So far.  Just one.  Only Molly in it.  His father made some money.  Sold the same thing to the army several times over.  And now Boylan selling this tour.  Chip off the old.  Just one show.  I won’t go.  Go visit my father, his anniversary.  They’ll go alone.  Together.  He’ll organize her there.  Again.  I wonder what she sees?  She’s all drowned in him. Worst man around.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing

But they will teach us that Eternity is the Standing still of the Present Time, a Nunc-stans (as the Schools call it;) which neither they, nor any else understand, no more than they would a Hic-stans for an Infinite greatness of Place.

5:40 pm

This place is filled with bugs.  Look at that one there in the corner.  Oh wow, that’s a spider eating another spider.  No wait, not eating.  Well, that’s natural.  Told Joe I could wait for the money he owes me if he would talk to Myles about the Keyes ad.  He won’t do it.  Look at those spiders.  Right here with us, living lives.  Mating.  Sharing our houses strangers to us.  What civilization do they have, I wonder.  They crawl so close over everything we have, everything we’ve made.  Our art, our literature, our beds.  And we busy with our moderation and botheration and civilization and syphilisation to be much to them but goodfornothing gods lighting sideways on their lives smushing them so you wouldn’t see a trace of them after and leave them for our dogs to devour or wipe them off with something and into the trash with you, honey.  And here are these two in the corner just in time to be late to know that somebody will smash them before they are done and well, that’s natural.  Obliterated to nothingness.  Well, not nothingness.  Nothing is not nothing.  Think about zero, yeah?  What is it but a place holder.  It makes things clearer in writing down numbers so 1132 can be seen right away as different from 11032.  Zero is a quantity of nothing.  Until you try to divide something by zero.  Then nothing turns into something pretty quick.  It becomes a whole lot of something, infinite something.  Suddenly nothing is everything.  Those spiders are nothing.  Those spiders are the kings of infinite space.

One Response to Letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Where are our missing twenty millions of Irish should be here today instead of four, our lost tribes?

(Ah, crabeyes, I have you, showing off to the world with that gape in your stocking!) Wold Forrester Farley who, in deesperation of deispiration at the diasporation of his diesparation, was found of the round of the sound of the lound of the.5:42 pm

Where?  Right here.  What are you, blind to the world?  Open your eyes.  Look me square in the eye and I’ll tell you we are here.  We are right here.  All over the place.  But do we know it?  No.  Not really.  No.  We are dilluting.  Watering down.  Merging, really, with others.  Come St. Patrick’s day we’re back in an eye blink.  Kiss me I’m Irish and here’s mud in your eye!  Then the next day, in the twinkling of an eye, memory fails before it can remember.  We have some Irish in us, but we don’t remember what that means.  Some of us think we have no heritage at all, the blind leading the blind to the world.  No-one so blind as those that will not see.  Now get the hell out of my sight.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

If he was at his last gasp he’d try to downface you that dying was living.

I believe in God the father almighty, or at least it stands to reason there has to be some sort of greater power, you know, like electricity sort of thing. And in Jesus Christ who was obviously a fantastic bloke, and its been proved historically that he actually did exist around that time, actually. Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, no don't laugh it could happen, after all they can do it in a test tube these days. I mean that proves it, doesn't it.5:48 pm

I believe in Odd, the number almighty, creator of digits of worth.  I believe in Even, His mate, number adored.  Conceived by the integers transmit and born of the burgeon gyri.  He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was misapplied, divide, and was varied.  He descended to the zed.  On the third ray he rows again.  He ascended into seven and is repeated at the right and of the interger.  He will sum again to judge the sieving and the spread.  I believe in the Coli Omit, the holy data quick research, the profusion of taints, the forgiveness of grins, the resurrection of the bawdy, and life everpasting.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

The rich incrustations of time

he spat in careful convertedness a musaic dispensation about his hearthstone, if you please (Irish saliva, mawshe dho hole, but would a respectable prominently connected fellow of Iro-European ascendances with welldressed ideas who knew the correct thing such as Mr Shallwesigh or Mr Shallwelaugh expectorate after such a callous fashiion, no thank yous! when he had his belcher spuckertuck in his pucket, pthuck?)

5:51 pm

Sedimentary reality — that’s history.  Do you see?  History is made from memory, and the memories that make history, the ones that stick, the ones that calcify, you know the ones, the ones that start out as shifting sands until they become mineral accretions on our bodies, oh where to what to.  I’ll stand to say it.  The memories that make history are the ones compressed into our souls through force, through hatred, through persecution.  All the history of the world is full of it.  Persecution, injustice.  Look at your self.  Train your eye on yourself.  What is your nation?  And what about your race? What are these worlds?  Where dyoublong?  You think, you think, you think history is what was when?  It happened then?  Over there?  Back before whatchuyoucallitwhen?  No.  There is no over there back when.  It’s here now.  Now.  Right now.  This very moment.  This very instant.  Look, the hatred, the injustice, you think that goes away?  It hardens and sticks.  It creates layers all over the place.  Layers right here now, all over us.  Everywhere.  And it persists.  I don’t mean extension in time, no.  There’s no line here from then to when.  I’m saying it is all right here now persisting.  Calcifying.  Barnacling.  Do you see?  Force, hatred, injustice, history.  Insult.  History.  That’s history.  That’s history.  And it’s no way to live.  No life.  You can’t.  You can’t.  But you know it’s no use to stand up to hatred.  Hatred collects and and and it shifts, and it compacts and compresses and it calcifies into memory.  And then it becomes history.  That’s how it happens.  The layers become reality.  Sedimentary reality.  The real built on shifting sands, until it creates a nice hard surface.  No standing up to that.  It’s the opposite of that is life.  It’s.  Oh, what is it?  That world everybody knows.  You know it, don’t you.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

Beehives, soupladles, stars, snakes, anvils, boxes of vaseline,

We accept reality so readily -- perhaps because we sense that nothing is real. I asked Argos how much of the Odyssey he knew. He found using Greek difficult; I had to repeat the question. Very little, he replied. Less than the meagerest rhapsode. It has been eleven hundred years since last I wrote it. 5:54 pm

[Scene:  The Star and Garter Ballroom, Empyrean Building, Holy Mother Public Relations.  The party planning committee including Saints Martha, Agatha, Patricia, Augustine, Genevieve, Wenburgh, Cecilia, and the Holy Mother herself, Blessed Virgin, Queen of the Heavens, CEO Holy Mother Public Relations, etc. are preparing for the imminent arrival of what will be possibly most likely perhaps God willing a new saint: Saint (maybe) Ahasuerus.]

Mary [Frazzled] Jesus H Christ, where are Anne and Margaret?  They were supposed to be here a half hour ago with the welcome banners!

Jesus [Appearing suddenly as if from nowhere]:  Mom?

Mary: Holy Christ you scared the bejesus out of me!  What did I tell you about popping in unannounced like that?  I completely forgot what I was doing!  What do you want?

Jesus:  Sorry  Mom, I thought I heard you calling me.

Mary:  Well, you didn’t.  Go back to your father, it’s his week to have you.  Oh, but first, I need you to make some wine.  God I need a drink.  I tried to get some beer out of Amand, but it’s too late in the day to catch him sober.  Best I can hope is he doesn’t vomit on the guest of honor.

Jesus:  Who is it this time?

Mary:  Ahasuerus.

Jesus:  That guy?  I thought he was supposed to wander the earth until I returned.

Mary:  Well, there’s a chance he’s coming today, dead or not, unless it’s some sort of mistake.  He’s got some tunnel visioned meat head after him who’s getting ready to crack his head open with a biscuit tin, but that’s if he has the depth perception for it.  Personally I don’t want him here, I could do without yet another one of these enormous parties.  I’ve got Agatha and Patricia fighting over command of the kitchen and that sour bitch Martha complaining about both of them.  Look, here she comes.

Jesus:  Speak of the devil.

Martha:  Hey Jesus.  Mary, I could really use some help in there.  Why am I always the one stuck in the kitchen doing everything?  Patricia is beyond useless and I’d give my left breast to get Agatha to shut up about the Glencree dinner already.

Mary:  What are Margaret and Anne doing?  Aren’t they in there with you?

Martha:  Mina Purefoy went into labor and called on both of them.  They’ll be with her for days.

Mary:  Both?  Well get Aquinas then, where the hell is he?

Martha:  That fat ass?  He’s in the kitchen, but he’s eating everything in sight: loaves, hogs, stags’ horns, hawks, eyes on a dish, unicorns.  I have Wenburgh  in there resurrecting what she can, but I still have to cook it all over again.  And how do you resurrect a seed cake?

Jesus:  Yeah, that’s not easy.

Mary:  Well, Genevieve is working on the look of the room, I’ve got Fiacre on flowers and Cecilia is handling music.  You can have Amand, but he’s shitfaced drunk.

Martha:  Yeah, great.  Thanks.  Might as well give me a swarm of locusts or a rain of frogs for all the good he’ll do me.

Jesus:  Maybe we can delay Ahasaures’ arrival somehow?  You don’t want him here anyway, do you Mom?

Mary:  Oh Christ no.

Martha:  Really?  Oh that would be great.  I hear he’s bad news anyway.  Uses his wife to help him cheat at cards.  Son of a grifter too, who defrauded a bunch of people with unsecured loans before he killed himself.

Fiacre: [Carrying an enormous bunch of aconite]  Oooh, who are we talking about, Ahasuerus?  I heard that he won buckets of money on a horse race, and then refused to buy a round at the bar.  What a cheap ass.  Cute as a shit house rat too.

Mary:  All right, think.  What do we do to buy some time?

Jesus:  Who’s the one going to throw the biscuit tin?  We can mess with his aim.

Martha:  Good idea.  Maybe we can blind him?

Mary:  Well I can’t spare Genevieve, she’s up to her tits in work getting this place decorated.

Jesus:  What about Nicholas and Anthony?  Nick can steal his glasses and Anthony can hide them.

Mary:  That might do it.  Jesus, you find them and get them on it asap.  Martha, get your ass back into the kitchen.  I’ll see if your sister can help.

Martha:  Fat chance.

Jesus:  No. She doesn’t need to be here.

Martha:  See.

Mary:  And Jesus, get back to your father after you find Tony and Nick.  I can’t have him bitching to the lawyers again about me violating his visitation rights.  Costs me a fortune every time.

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.

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?

 

Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.