Having my way with Ulysses

From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step.

Swiftly she set out, with joy. But he gave her, stealthily, the honey-sweet berry of the pomegranate to eat, peering around him. He did not want her to stay for all time over there, at the side of her honorable mother, the one with the dark robe.12:28 am

Think back. Remember. I am almosting it. I spent those summer months, the first ones after, with circles and squares. As one would. It’s natural. Look at that circle there. You see it? A reflection of your eye looking at me.  I’ll reflect mine back to you in case you need, no? Fine then. So beautiful your circle. A circle is a circle because it is not a square.  A square is a square because it is not a circle.  The perfect square lacks corners, but I get ahead of myself. But I can’t get ahead of myself, that’s my predicament. Nor can I get behind myself either, damn it. But let’s return to the roundness, the fullness of your circle. All points of your circumference are equal from your center. Such pretty, such sublime perfection. Such infinity. Such simultaneity of number. Ba! Look at that square, now, ugly thing. In front of you, see it? Around where you stare. You should blink more, this is very bad for your eyes holding them open like that. Blink. Now see that ugly square binding your reflection. My reflection back. Corners. Angles. Limited. Linear. Like me. Ba, this has been an unusually fatiguing day. And this day, like any other day is this day now. Here. Now. Endlessly now. Nothing but now, only now forever and always now. I know for you it is different. I see it is different from here. Good Christ you can see it from space, but for me, when I look at myself I see only this and no other then. When? I exist between before and after in a durationless instant, and I unite them. Before and after exist because of me. You exist because of me. But I heard once of a way, a secret way. Closer, I’ll tell you. If the square married the circle, yes? You see it? Forgive the allegorical language but this is top secret understand. If the square married the circle they would mate, yes, and be united. Unified. If the perfect square lacked corners and if the circle had rationality. Think of the implications! Imagine what it could mean! The eternal and the temporal entwining. Infinity plunging into linearity. We can do it. So gently, so carefully. This is virgin territory. The past that was can be caressed into the now. And the future that beckons, we shall be the ones saying come hither sweet little thing you are. Aren’t you curious? Nobody’s looking baby love, we can do it. The cause is sacred. Stop. You don’t agree, do you. You think I’m wasting time. But the quadrature of the circle is all I have left, don’t you see? I live in temporal succession and this compounds my grief. You think it’s so easy to? You. Your center is everywhere and your circumference is nowhere. Ba. When have you ever needed to resurrect anything? Simultaneity. You are nothing. Leave me. Sorrow lives only in linearity; what do you know of my troubles? Now go.

That’s the music of the future.

From her immortal head a heaven-sent glow envelops the earth and great beauty arises under its radiance.12:00 am

Who the hell is she? Get her out of here could you, she’s limiting my radiance. Got a light? So, which one am I marrying, you? Him. Him? For the honor of God, is that Bloom? He barely looks 31!  Did he hear me? He looks 43 at least. Me? Am I on? Right. Good evening ladies, gentlemen, deities, the deceased. As we stand at the base of this, good god would you look at what that looks like, at the base of this pillar of cloud at the start of this year one of the reign of our new what are we calling him? Emperor? President? King? Chairman? To honor my new husband is this the ring? A ruby? hardly a stone of destiny Uh. We have prepared for you a majestic phallopyrotechnic firework display, designed to outshine the splendor of night! Hey. Who wrote the cue cards? Listen. Nothing outshines me, look at the contract. Where’s the lawyers? Where? Behind the millwrights and the newspaper canvassers? Those are the masseurs, aren’t they? Oh in front of them! I swear on my testicles I’m not marring this guy, so may the creator deal with me.