Having my way with Ulysses

Across the sands of all the world followed by the suns flaming sword.

• Proteus

To the west, trekking to evening lands. She trudges, schlepps, trains, drags, trascines her load. A tide westering, moondrawn in her wake. Tides, myriadislanded, within her, blood not mine, oinopa ponton, a winedark sea. Behold the handmaid of the moon. In sleep the wet sign calls her hour, bids her rise. Bridebed, childbed, bed of death, ghostcandled. Omnis caro ad te veniet. He comes, pale vampire, through storm his eyes, his bat sails bloodying the sea, mouth to her mouth's kiss. 11:43 am

That’s twice I forgot to take slips off the library counter.  Remember it now.  Try.  Comes and goes.  How did I start it?  The sounds.  Moomb woomb allwoombing toomb. Mouth to her kiss.  No, two mouths.  Glue them together.  Gluey.  Mouth to her mouth’s kiss. Wayawayawayawayaway.  Ooeeehah.  huh.  Where?  To evening lands.  Omnis caro ad te veniet.  His bat sails.  Her bat shawl.  On swift sail flaming.  From storm and south.  He comes, pale vampire.  Mouth to my mouth.  I am set naked on your kingdom.  Oh, thy kingdom come!  A winedark sea.  Behold the handmaid of the moon.  The moist star.  Unto thee all flesh shall come.  What is her burying grave, that is her womb?  Tomb.  Mouth to her womb.  allwombing tomb.  Oomb.  Thou’rt my Mother from the Womb, Wife, Sister, Daughter to the Tomb.  Trudges, schlepps, trains, drags, trascines.  Across the sands of all the world.  Is that what I wrote? Bridebed, childbed, bed of death, ghostcandled.  Tides myriadislanded, within her.  A tide westering, moondrawn.  In sleep the wet sign calls her hour, bids her rise.  Followed by the sun’s flaming sword.  to the west.  Trekking to evening lands.  Pale vampire, through storm his eyes.  Bloodying the sea.  The winedark sea.  O shit give it up.  Who ever anywhere will read these written words?

Shut your eyes and see

• Proteus

Creating space, Creating Time according to the wonders Divine Of Human Imagination, throughout all the Three Regions immense Of Childhood, Manhood & Old Age; & the all tremendous unfathomable Non Ens Of Death was seen in regenerations terrific or complacent varying According to the subject of discourse & every Word & Every Character Was Human according to the Expansion or Contraction, the Translucence or Opakeness of nervous fibres such was the variation of Time & Space 11:00 am

The world is real and eternal.  Don’t take my word for it, think through your eyes.  Look at the idealists, they knew how to use a good work around.  Take Berkeley for example.

Berkeley:  There is not existence without the mind.  Objects cannot exist without a mind perceiving them.

So to perceive is to be.  Oh yeah, then when I leave the room does it disappear?  Come on.

Berkeley:  Objects continue because God sees them.

And there you are.  A likely story.  Convenient to invent a universal perceiver so all things can be seen and thus be real.  Even Schopenhauer, who had a bit more sense than the other idealists, speaks this treason.

Schopenhauer:  The world is my idea.

Please, what about that sun up there behind those clouds?  And this beach, these shells I crunch under my feet and this sand washing through my fingers?

Schopenhauer:  It is not a sun and an earth, but only an eye that sees a sun and a hand that feels the earth.

But what about time?  Close your eyes.  Think of a very short space of time.  You aren’t closing your eyes.  You think I can’t see you?  I can’t see you and you are real.  Now close them.  Nothing will disappear.  Go ahead.  I’ll wait.  Ok, close your eyes later and think of very short times of space.  And listen.  Rhythms, the nearing tide, the crunch under your feet.  Close your eyes and look through the opacity of your eyelids.  Is it is all still there?   World without end?   All the time, and all time?  You did not need to see to believe.  All still here.  Me too.  Look, there are my feet.  Buck’s shoes.  I’m wearing his pants too.  And Jim’s hat.  But whether one thing comes after another or they stand nicely side by side, the world is not the idea of a creator.  There is no Los, that fallen earth owner creating material reality in his forge, or holding his diaphanous orb of fire as he walks into the crypt of eternity wearing Blake’s hat.  Nor are there ghosts within.  Listen.  That’s a ghost talking, Hamlet’s father.  Howsomever thou pursuest this act, taint not thy mind nor let thy soul contrive against thy mother.  Now look what you’ve done.  I should never have spoken to you.  Your fault!  My mother, ghost with ashes on her breath, is walking here.  No.  Jesus!  I will not fall over that cliff that beetle’s o’er his base.  Oh Christ look now, look with your thoughts.  There I go.

Ffoo!

• The Lotus-Eaters

10:08 am

Why does all the action happen offstage?  Think of Ophelia.  Poor Ophelia!  She has such few lines.  The token chick.  Oh Ophelia, you sweet dead thing.  Probably for the best.  The thing is you fell in love with the wrong guy.  Chica, didn’t anybody ever tell you?  I’ll say it.  Don’t fall in love with crazy.  Don’t do it girl.  Just don’t.  I don’t care how much family money he has, I don’t care that you think he’s cute.  I don’t care that you think you can change him.  You can’t change him.  And I don’t care that you what?  Wait.  What did you just say?  Are you kidding me?  You thought he’d marry you?!  Girl you are delusional.  Are you out of your damn mind?   Hasn’t anybody ever told you to get a ring on it first?  A guy would have to be a lunatic to buy the cow if he’s already getting the free milk.  And a prince?  Please.  He’s got girls coming at him from all sides.  Honey you are just one of the herd.  He gave you some, ahem, private time and what did you do?  You were free and bounteous.  Typical.  Then you couldn’t even kill yourself onstage.  Come on.  We didn’t have a chance to look at your face.  We had to hear about it from Gertrude and you know how she tells a story.  Anything could have happened out there.  She probably drowned you herself.

55 reasons

• Telemachus

What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, or to the dreadful summit of the cliff that beetles o'er his base into the sea, and there assume some other horrible form which might deprive your sovereignty of reason and draw you into madness? Think of it. The very place puts toys of desperation, without more motive, into every brain that looks so many fathoms to the sea and hears it roar beneath. 9:06 am

Buck still leading Haines on about my Hamlet theory, although so far I am not tempted to break my silence.  I’ll tell it when I tell it, it can wait.  Whatever.  To him it won’t be worth more than the price of a pin.  He told Haines I prove by algebra that Hamlet’s grandson is Shakespeare’s grandfather and that he himself is the ghost of his own father.  Haines probably thinks I am my father’s ghost.  He also thinks Seattle is much like Elsinore (I don’t see it).  With the full weight of ownership of his rightful property that can only come from an Englishman who hasn’t read it, Haines called Hamlet a wonderful tale.  How delightful.  Isn’t that special.

It is a disease

• Telemachus

You put your hoof in it now.8:54 am

Haines asked for little pieces of me to insert into his dissertation.  Asked.  I say asked but it was more of an announcement closely followed by assumption.  Wants to collect the things I say and contain them into his pages as his discoveries.  How charming.  Buck wants me to give him my Hamlet theory but I don’t put out for free.