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.

What the hell are you driving at? I know. Shut up. Blast you. I have reasons.

Life, he himself said once, (his biografiend, in fact, kills him verysoon, if yet not, after) is a wake, livit or krikit, and on the bunk of our breadwinning lies the cropse of our seedfather, a phrase which the establisher of the world by law might pretinately write across the chestfront of all manorwombanborn.2:36 pm

A father is a necessary evil.  Listen to me, I know.  Who’s your daddy?  Do you really know?  You have a woman’s word for it.  Ok yes, she is your mother and amor matris from whichever direction you approach it may be the only true thing in life.  So why then, come on tell me, do the Roman Catholics and their spin offs base everything upon fatherhood’s rock hardness, when we are all born from the eye of the whirlpool?  Why?  Listen to me, I see you.  Straying in your thoughts.  Get back here.  Come back to my theolologicophilological (I ought to be stopped) theory. Now. Where were we. Father religion. This god is all their daddies. Yes. I’m fine. The church like the world (both micro and macro cosmos) is founded upon the void, the uncertainty of which (even the unlikelihood of which) fatherhood represents.  Or perhaps it happens the other way around.  Yes. Pay attention. The fear of daddy we feel as children while simultaneously feeling secure in his protection from danger we ascribe by apostolic succession to God the father.  Yes.  Feel it.  Furthermore, heretofore, once again, hereafter (are you condemned to do this?) old Nobodaddy will tell you himself that his role was a brief spurt of inspiration (expiration more like) and off he goes.  And agenbite of inwit?  What’s that?  Oh shake it off Nobodaddy.  Mingo minxi micxtum mingler. World without end amen. Oh I will be condemned. (Am I a father?  If I were?)  Look, this enthroned one, this everybody’s daddy, says Sabellius, was son of his own son.  The man felt himself with child foetus that was himself.  How’s that?  Come again?  One coming is sufficient;  Here.  Have an example.  An example.  Well, look at Shakespeare.  Or whatever his name was. Breathe. Breathing. Rutlandbaconsouthhamptonshakespearemarlowe wrote Hamlet.  He was not the father of his own son,  he was the father of all his race.  He was everybody’s daddy.  Am I battling against hopelessness?  Fight with me.  Our worst enemies are in our own house and family.  Stand!  Fight!  Kid, your growth is my decline.  Your youth is my envy.  Your friend is my enemy!  You brought me pain.  Her too and you ruined her body.  You divided her from me.  Get down from there!  Be careful!  You increase my cares.  I worry sick about you.  Slow down!  Look both ways!  Don’t talk to that perve with the candy.  Don’t impregnate before you can pay.  Dont do anything stupid.  Good Christ, listen to me!

When I makes water I makes water

And it has been said elsewhere: This body produced from marriage, and endowed with growth in darkness, came forth by the urinary passage, was built up with bones, bedaubed with flesh, thatched with skin, filled with ordure, urine, bile, slime, marrow, fat, oil, and many impurities besides, like a treasury full of treasures.

8:45 am

Buck spent morning talking like an old woman.  Burned breakfast, we had to open the door to let the smoke out.  Key in the lock, but Buck thought I had it.  Made coffee too strong for Haines and no milk.  Haines interested in the seventies feminist movenent now, Gloria Steinem teaching women how to piss standing up.  Where you truss be circumspicious and look before you leak, dears.  Treating everyone like God in drag.  There is a restaurant in BC that prohibits men from peeing standing up.  Told Haines that would not exist in or out of the Northwest.


Not that kind of relish.8:00 am

Oh the nasty bits the sweet sweet nasty bits.  Saw Anthony Bourdain drunk pontificating about offal again but oh god I like it more than he does.  Liver fried nicely in onions with mustard, chicken gizzards scooped with the blood from the bottom of a roasting pan oh that sticky blood, antichuchos grilled hot and just a little crispy, kidneys sauteed in butter with a bacon or most of the time without.  Oh yes the pork kidneys their fat uriney goodness plumping up nicelyinbrownbutteryummmm.