Having my way with Ulysses

There under starshiny coelum.

Checkmate. King to tower.10:56 pm

Thank you kindly, much obliged my man.  We have to all pull together, am I right, and these things can be damn expensive. When there’s a girl like that a ripe and a ready, a little venus of the people, and no man has yet gone before, then I want to be the man for the job, hey don’t spill on my new pants. We live but to die and there’s hair in your eye. I know it. I’ll never be a poet. I am a little sentimental about the girl, but the sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a thing done.  Much obliged to now where did he go?  Oh there, getting some wine.  Two guinness for me.  And two for yourself?  Ah yes, she’s a bold bad girl.  Who’s paying? Well sir, it’s who’s invited us! Whoa! That one’s passed out. You don’t say? Had the winner until you? Wasn’t such a dead cert then.  Who gave him the winner? Him? Him that gave me the condom for my photo girl? With the wife in the window? Have to see her to be believed. Pull the blind baby, somebody’s watching. Wait, Bloo? He’s the one she calls papli? Ok then, is that the time. Getting late. Just slide over here by the door, Mulligan, look alive, look at that there by the door. A round of  absinthe? Sure sure, green poison the devil take the hindmost. Don’t mind us just going to take a look at something out here. Just outside. See ya adios bye bye catch you later gotta go.

Any object, intensely regarded, may be a gate of access to the incorruptible eon of the gods.

And now, O Alcibiades, the divine thing having been performed, tell me, are the girls and the youths and the philosophers as fond of thee as ever?10:42 pm

Scene: [Around the ideal form of a table sit Glaucon, Alcibiades, Pistritus, and a mirror reflecting an even more ideal form of a table around which sit Glycera, Chloe, Phyllis and a mirror reflecting ooh look at that table, way more ideal, around which sit Anemone, Posie, Echo in a mirror, and a mirror reflecting ok now I like this one best, wait, can I see that first table again? reflecting Mars, Venus, and Juno and a mirror reflecting turtles all the way down.  On each ideal form of a table sits a container of plums. Some of the containers are coffins, some are eggs.]

Glaucon: [Brotherly, breathing on the mirror while the others stare hard at the plums] On behalf of Alcibiades, for the fulfillment of his one great goal, I call them to life across the waters of Lethe.

Juno: [Chewing a plum] You hear that?  Venus, get off of Mars, we have to troop to the call.

Anemone: Poor ghosts. I really anticipate disaster here.

Echo: Disaster here.

Posie: [Carving into the table with a blunt hornhandled ordinary knife reminiscent of Roman history]  e ar space ach e ar e period.

Alcibiades: Anything yet?

Anemone: He is so expectant!

Echo: expectant!

Posie: [Carving]   tea ay en tea exclamation point.

Glycera: [Wearing a frock of muslin and yellow shoes]  He wants me again.  Already.

Phyllis: Well don’t go.  That man would make his own mother an orphan.

Chloe: Isn’t his father the son of his own mother?

Anemone: He heard her say that.  Look his face is growing dark.

Echo: Growing dark.

Posie: eye en gee space dee ay ar kay period.

Pisistratus:  All is lost.  I’m leaving.

Glaucon: Stay, we have all the mirrors aligned in perfect harmonic proportions.  This will work.

Pisistratus: It will work if we bribe somebody.

Alcibiades: Glycera’s soul is far away.  What if she won’t assume her etheric double?

Juno: Ok, place your bets. Will she assume her etheric double?  I say yes.  A whore like that? Come on.

Mars: I say yes too. Last time she had her leg up over our left shoulder.  I could watch that again 16 times in a row.

Venus: Alcibiades’ left shoulder. She won’t.  He’ll beg until he’s black in the face but I’ll have to incarnate for her.  Where’s my ruby dress?

Phyllis: Huzzah! I think Venus will go for you. I wonder if she has a ride?  She can take Aristotle, he’s parked out back.

Juno: Venus your bet’s a throwaway.  Just listen to her heart beating! Can hear it two mirrors over.

Glycera: I guess I can go, but I won’t use a condom. I hate condoms. Well at least I had my period last week so there’s that.  He bites, though.  It’s off putting.

Chloe: You’re fertile!  Oh you’ll have a nice ripe egg for him.

Glycera: Oh fabulous, I’ll get pregnant.  Great.

Anemone: Will she?

Echo: She?

Posie:  capital ess ach e question mark.

Glycera: What do you think, ladies?

Phyllis: It’s a holocaust; you’ll get burned.

Chloe:  Yes she’ll burn. The young green shoots of new plumtrees require putrefaction first. End it now and go to him, it will be the beginning of something.  And the Gods are involved, so there will be mirror effects all over the place.  Lose yourself in it.  I mean, look at these plums.  They’re dying. They won’t be fully empowered until putrefied. The tomb of death is the womb of new life.

Glycera: Ok, here I go.

Juno: You hear that? Let’s get started.

Juno, Venus, and Mars: [Breathing on the mirror] We call them to life across the waters of Lethe.

A star I see. Venus?

Say them all but tell them apart, cadenzando coloratura! R is Rubretta and A is Arancia, Y is for Yilla and N for greeneriN. B is Boyblue with odalisque O while W waters the fleurettes of novembrance. Though they're all but merely a schoolgirl yet these way went they. I' th' view o' th'avignue dancing goes entrancing roundly. 8:53 pm

[Scene:  Rehearsal for Circe.  Venus dressed as a heliotrope in furs is practicing the Dance of the Hours with the  Roygbiv Vance dancers: Rose, Sevilla, Citronelle, Esmeralde, Pervinca, Indra, and Viola.  The director is perched in the upstage grid and the stage manager and asm are in the booth. The nobleman, McIntosh, the newsboys, a hag carrying a bottle and Grace Darling are waiting stage right to rehearse their number: “O by the by that Lotion”]

God [On the god mic.  Always on the damn god mic.  Does he really need the entire house to hear him?  Really?]  I know the sun sets in the west Venus, I was the one who put it there in the first place!

Venus:  The hell you were!

God:  Nevermind the direction, this is theatre!  Our business is illusion.  We are representing truth, not telling it.  Who bloody cares if the sun is setting in the Southeast?

Venus:  I do! I need to absorb all the reality I can so my instrument can feel the very atmosphere of the scene.  How can I do that if you move the sun to the wrong place?

God: Look, you think it’s easy to move the sun around?  My joints are on the rack!

Jesus:  Dad?  Those distant hills seem coming nigh.

God:  I know, they needed to be closer for this scene.  Ignore them, the’ll stop soon.

Venus:  Listen God, I need the light to set in the west: it is a kind of reassuring.  I can’t.  I can’t work like this.

[A feather falls slowly from the grid, lands on Venus’ head.  She bursts into tears.]

Venus:  [Addressing the bird in the grid]  Thanks.  You’ve always brought me such peace.  You really are a promise of hope to me.  The girls too.  Sorry I got your names mixed up Indra, Viola.

Viola:  Don’t worry about it love.  Shall we go again?

McIntosh:  Do already!  The corns on my kismet are killing me!

Venus:  Who is that guy?

God: Jesus?

Jesus: Nobody knows, he just showed up.  Wait.  Where did he go?  Doesn’t he know it’s damn frustrating when people appear and disappear just like that!

God:  Never mind him, he was probably just a mirage.  Now Venus, the director wants you to practice in front of a mirror, hold his feather while you do it if it helps you.

Venus:  There’s no way I can do that.  I don’t want to see myself, that would shatter the reality I’m creating.

God: It’s hard I know, but still you learn something.  We all could stand to see ourselves as other see us. That’s the way to find out.  See yourself, scowl or smile, then ask yourself, who am I now?  Will you try it?

Venus:  Can I do it naked?

God: So long as women don’t mock what matter?

A star, a daystar, a firedrake, rose at his birth.

O, there be players that I have seen play -- and heard others praise, and that highly -- not to speak it profanely, that neither having th' accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made man, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably. 2:40 pm

[Scene:  Empty theatre.  The stage manager is sitting in the house seats next to the director, who is eating seeds from a broad silver and gilt bowl.]

God:  List.  You hear that?  Must be seventy people out there.  Jesus!  Jesus Christ!  Where the hell is he?  [on the god mic] Jesus!

Jesus: [Materializes suddenly behind God, startling the director who flies up into the grid, landing on a downstage line set.] God damn it, it’s a mess out there.  Actors are showing up before their check in times, and without their sides.  We ran out of extras and I’m

God:  Can’t you just make more?

Jesus:  I’m not a miracle worker!

God:  Well, how did you do that water into wine thing?

Jesus:  Never mind that.  What’s going on in here?  Whose bright idea was it to hire a bird to be the director?

God: Oh please let’s not get into that.  The whole Arian thing and the meetings in Nicaea and Constantinople, the Nestorian business.  It’s in our contract.  We’re stuck with him, and he likes to be a dove so what can we do?  Anyway, I’m not entirely sure, but I think he’s ready to see the Bella Cohens.  Anybody promising?

Jesus:  Let’s see.  A  bunch of girls who had decent to middling parts in The Tempest, Pericles, Winter’s Tale.

God:  Too young.

Jesus:  Well, Cleopatra is out there.

God: Who?

Jesus:  Fleshpot of Egypt.  Also Cressida and Venus.

God:  Venus might work, but she’s a big star.  Can we afford her?  And is she willing to do drag?

Jesus:  Probably not.  Will do nudity though, she’s naked now.  And she’s not really a star.  She’s flaming out.  Also, we have a crowd of people out there claiming to be Shakespeare’s relations. Brothers, mother.

God:  Mother?  Mary Arden?  Can she act?  Would she be a good Bella?

[Bird droppings fall from above.]

God:  Fine, we’ll tell Mary we’re going another way.  Jesus, send in Venus.  And warn her she might want to put some clothes on, the director is in a temper.

Entr’acte

 I saw it growing in magnitude significantly, though always maintaining its circular shape. Approaching maximum elongation it began to lose its circular shape on the other side from the Sun and within a few days had acquired a semicircular shape. This shape it maintained for a number of days. More precisely, it maintained until it began to move towards the Sun, slowly abandoning the tangent. It now begins to assume a notable corniculate shape. 2:26 pm

Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?  You disturb my peace.  They all do.  Just now I had one come close, bending down with a stare to rival Galileo’s!  Now that was a mister honey, queer and sick.  Not content to view from afar at my morning or evening loveliness, his nightly intrusions gazed upon my most intimate surfaces.  And his conclusion, that I am losing my shape!  Honestly.  I ask you.  Have you ever?  But this other dark figure, bowing, pale eyes upon my mesial groove, had a purpose I didn’t fully understand.  Looking for something.  Well, I am young.  I am only now entering into my full ripeness.  Didn’t you know?  I was born quite recently from some rather potent seafoam.  Kronos and his cronies cut off their father’s, well, ripeness, spilling more than his prepuce and adjacent parts for the collector, much more.  His fertile seed foamed into the ocean, mother of us all.  How were they to know she’d be so ripe for it?  What a brood of mockers those boys turned out to be.  Well, what you laugh at you nevertheless serve, and now like all men gone limp with leching, they belong to me.  Me!  They worship the very image of the one they despised.  Every day they must do homage to me.  Sentimental fools.  Well, the sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a thing done.  Let’s just see how that works out for them.

Never speaking

There where it smells of shit it smells of being. Man could just as well not have shat, not have opened the anal pouch, but he chose to shit as he would have chosen to live instead of consenting to live dead. Because in order not to make caca, he would have had to consent not to be, but he could not make up his mind to lose being, that is, to die alive. There is in being something particularly tempting for man and this something is none other than CACA. (Roaring here.)1:50 pm

[Scene: Immortal lovely Venus, Juno, and Galatea, shapely goddesses with curves the world admires, stand naked together.  All to see.  They don’t care what man looks.]

Venus: Mortal!

Galatea:  Quick, be statues.

Juno:  Stop breathing Galatea.  Why can’t you stop breathing?

Galatea:  Hey, that’s not my fault.  Blame Venus.

Venus:  Mortal coming!  Whisper!  Try to look like the three graces.

[A man and ready on his way to the yard pauses, drops something, bends down to look.  See if she.  He stands and before walking on he makes swift passes in the air with juggling fingers. Obviously in the craft.]

Venus:  Is he gone? 

Juno:  Yes.  Why do they always look?

Galatea:  Attention defecate disorder.  They think we have no.

Venus:  I’d like to surprise the next one.  Give myself to him, a man with manly conscious.  Lay with men lovers occasionally.

Juno:  I’ll bet you would.

Galatea:  I prefer mortals.  But they do reek of food.  And shit.  Disgusting things they eat too, how did they ever think to eat things like snails,  or oysters?  Unsightly things like clots of phlegm.  Stuff them in one hole and out the other behind.  Like stoking an engine.

Venus:  Oysters have an effect on the sexual.

Galatea:  But how would they know that?  The first one to say yum, that looks like I could eat it.  Imagine!  Disgusting.

St. Leger:  Waugh!  Waugh!  Iiiiiichaaaaaaach!

Juno: What is he saying?

Galatea:  I think he is calling us whores again.  Shut up you two dimensional freak!  I can’t stand the sight of him hanging there day after day.  Eyes gouged out, no lips.

Venus:  No tongue, lucky for us.  Can you imagine having no tongue.  How would you?

Juno:  Stop.  Please no vivid accounts Venus, you’ll get Leger even more agitated and then there will be no end to the howling.

Venus:  He needs to get laid.  And not by me.

Galatea:  Me either.

Juno:  Oh Gods no.