Well would you look at that. You asked once if I ever heard or read or knew or came across a woman pissing like a man, yes? Yes. And look at him, three hats pinned on his head dancing drunk in the street. Listen, I’ve got a real fashion emergency here, and you can’t tell anybody, not even Molly. I have my reasons. Don’t attract attention, I hate stupid crowds, just walk with me, yes? Do you remember that outfit you looked amazing with the thing, and the neckline? Yes? You looked much better than Molly, eating what’s her name Gallaher’s sandwich. You know, the one who was with the one dancing in the street with the one with the three hats, yes? Is that your dog? Cute, just don’t let him devour me. Maybe you could put him in your purse or something. Is that a poodle or a terrier? All dogs look the same in here. Anyway I never liked her style, she was too. Oh God I’m fading. Am I soft? I wonder if he has any pills in that bag, yes?
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.
Rochford is Boylan with impatience for me to show Blazes his bit of code when I see him later. I’ll sound him out. This is it, whatever sense you want to make out of it: 010101000111010101110010011011100010000001001110011011110111011100100000010011110110111000100000001010000111000001100001011110010010000001100001011101000111010001100101011011100111010001101001011011110110111000100000011101000110111100100000011101000110100001100101001000000110111001101111011101110010111000101001 Richie Goulding on financial business for Goulding, Collis and Ward walked blindly toward a woman no longer young, smiling, as she rushed, fully absorbed, toward him, on her way from superior courtroom W-331 to courtroom E-173. Money to be made, Tom says, telling people what they see now. Label the now and they’ll enjoy it more. Augment that reality. From Boeing Field, a string of stretch suv’s, one bearing flags, made its way toward the freeway. Maybe money there but I’ll get mine some other how. I have my methods. He’s a hero, Tom, you know that? Saved somebody stuck down a manhole, the one just down there under the poster of that dauby chick with the yellow hair. Poor devil stuck halfway to hell choking to death on sewer fumes and down went Tom, tied a rope around him and up they hauled them both. The act of a real hero. Ambulance. Can’t hear myself type. Anyway, the race is on soon. Bantam Lyons is putting everything he’s got on a horse somebody gave him that hasn’t an ice cube’s chance in hell. McCoy kept himself out of it. I can take my time; she doesn’t need these steaks yet. I don’t think he appreciated my story about that dinner at Glencree either; he has some kind of feeling for Bloom maybe. Says his wife sang there but did she? Come on. She a star? Please. The bright stars fade. Anyway, it was blue o’clock in the morning when we left with the car top down and I sat next to Bloom’s wife trying to get her top down. Unfurnished Apartments, picked up and placed again on the window sash. Bloom playing the astronomer pointing out this comet and that comet and stars and stars. Left me to pay attention to his wife’s moon. What star is that Poldy, she said. Just a pinprick, needle dick. He’s all right, though, Bloom.
Oh weeping God, the things I married into. Drunken accountant and his brother. Stephen the artist visiting them, couldn’t he fly a bit higher than that? Nuncle Richie and Crissie, papa’s little bedpal, his lump of love. And how does that visit go? I’ll tell you, by Christ, same every time. Stephen rings the bell and that cross-eyed Walter with his sir yes sir no sir sir checks for bill collectors, repo depot, summons servers then lets Stephen in to sit in the only chair. Offer up the back ache pills, that’s all there is. And then what? Drunk in the morning Ritchie holding forth in his house of decay. And and and and how is Uncle Si? Stephen says his uncle is a Judge, his uncle is a general. You’re awfully holy Stephen, aren’t you. But you will never be a saint. You prayed to the Blessed Virgin to spare you from drink and to the Devil to spare women from clothes. You’d sell your soul for that, shouting Naked Women! Naked Women! from the top of a city bus. Cry it to the rain kid. And what about that. What about what? You’d read two pages each of seven books every night then bow to yourself in the mirror. Stars in your eyes. Applause! You think no one saw. House not that big kid. Hurray for the Goddamned idiot! Hray! And where are those books you were going to write with letters for titles? Have your read his P? Yes but I prefer U! FW is wonderful but don’t read SU. You were going to write on everything that can be known and the critics would say when one reads the words of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who once won. And once one has won the hearts of the one who reads the one that one has won, then one may write one more one like that one but not like the other one, you know the one. Jesus wept, and no wonder by Christ.
We should all thank our stars, death is a horrible thing. Dying, there are good ways to go. But death? No connection, no contact with those who are now. In it, you see. Make room, I’ll ride with you. Here. I’ll get that door. Again. Got it that time. Now what was I saying? What were we talking about? Oh yeah, the woman watching us out her window, grateful to the stars for the mark on her door. So death. No bridging from what will be to what is. Will be always turns to is, and I’ll tell you what the meaning of is is. Look around you. Feel it quickly. Motion, stillness. Stillness, motion. It’s a protean thing. Smell, breathe in. Is that smell you? Yes, and catch that? Listen. You heard a click. Finger on plastic. Tap. Click. All that is part of is. And that’s all there is for the likes of you and me. And that woman there watching us out. Glad to see us go we give them such trouble coming. And once we leave the is? We’re dead, we won’t even know who will undress us and how. Wash us. What do they wash? Cut a new omphalos and pour the fluids in and out. Too much? Fine. Cut our fingernails and hair? Okay I’ll stop. Sheesh. Keeps growing after we die, I wonder how much? Waiting. Sitting on something. That soap in my pocket. Will wait. Move it later. Blinds down. Keep the house dark, hushed. Whispering. There’s a young guy in black. Have seen that hat before. Hey Dedalus, there’s somebody you know. It’s your kid. By himself. Nosy. Full of his son. Crissie is how old? Richie Goulding that Sunday morning. Had two hats on his head dancing around in the street. Shitfaced drunk. Bad back. No insurance, lots of pain meds. If Rudy had lived. He’d have me in his eyes, hold our hands. Somebody to pass things on to. Teach him something from me. Was an accident, really. Happened by chance. Molly at the window watching two dogs going at it. She was dying for it. How life begins. Got big. I could have helped him. Sent him to college. Milly, same thing as Molly watered down. Fifteen now. D Papli, Thrs a yg Im crushin on. Grown up now too. There we go. Nice they rented limos, crushed in here though. What is that on the seat, crumbs? Unless I’m mistaken, that’s not food crumbs. Well, that’s natural.